ensions ran high in the world court this week as prosecutors continued what will undoubtedly be the greatest trial of the century, at least for a long time: The world vs. Kris Kringle, also known as Santa Claus, also known as Father Christmas, et al. It was a trial marked by emotional outbursts and brutal accusations of crimes against humanity.

Kringle, led into the courtroom with his ankles shackled together and a series of elaborate handcuffs binding his hands, sat quiet through most of the prosecution's presentation of evidence. For the defense was world-famous Swedish lawyer Jorgen Fiord, who successfully defended Argentine dentist Emilio Rodriguez in 1996 against charges he was the infamous "Tooth Fairy."

"This man, sitting right here—though he may appear jolly, and have the very glint of holiday joy in his eyes, is at best a worldwide fraud and perpetrator of lies," presented attorney Manfred Hauser for the prosecution. "At worst, he's the greatest terrorist in the history of mankind."

Hauser was referring to the charges levied against the alleged jolly old elf: the first, pretending to provide toys and presents to all the children of the world, when in fact they're bought and delivered by the children's parents; two, attempting to set up a non-profit "holiday" religion by infringing upon the beliefs of Christianity; three, initiating and operating international pyramid schemes of "helpers" on street corners and department stores everywhere; four, cruelty to animals, i.e. specifically the training and illegal housing of endangered reindeer; and five, violating labor laws and international laws against slavery, specifically regarding the livelihood of diminutive people.

Kringle had the entire world on the edge of their seats, awaiting how he would plea, when he finally entered a statement of "not guilty" two weeks ago.

The trial has been the focus of the entire world ever since the world-famous "Santa Claus" was taken into custody last year, Sept. 19, 2012, by Russian soldiers while leading a Chechan rebels' rebellion during his so-called "off season." Tipped off by local naughty boys, soldiers found Kringle hidden beneath a collapsed chimney that he may have been using as a home for as long as six weeks. The U.N. had planned to try Claus in October of this year, but thought given the circumstances they could postpone the event until the holiday season.

The highlight of Thursday's trial included the testimony of an anonymous elf, known only to the jury as "Sprinkles," alleging Kringle used magic powers to extend the days just so he could make his elf workforce work 28-hour shifts. The testimony took a turn for the lewd as the witness alleged, through sobs and comically high-pitched crying, Santa Claus made the workplace even more uncomfortable with the use of a device called a "mistletoe belt buckle."

"Humbug!" exclaimed Kringle, standing up and shaking a green-gloved fist at the video screen. "Complete and utter humbug! And there's no use disguising your voice—I know it's you, Butterscotch! He's a liar, your honor! Check his closet and you'll see—nothing but coal!"

Kringle denounced the trial as a sham, and tried to remind the court of the reason for the season, but was warned by Judge Avril Harkrieger he would be bound and gagged if he didn't keep quiet, and maybe would anyway, if the judge wanted it bad enough.

Each day the trial has been marred by protests outside, middle- to upper-class kids demanded Santa's release, and several children living below the poverty line demanded years worth of retroactive gifts.

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OH MY GOD SNOW

Ramrod Hurley at the helm. The big news this week… well, everyone knows. It's the big fat picture we so conspicuously placed atop the index page. But buried in the major national headlines was one of the most important stories we could have asked for: Tom Cruise's long battle with a male porn star is over! The victor: Tom Cruise.

It's a shame that sometimes the media gets caught up in ridiculous international headlines like whether North Korea is aggressively seeking to build up nuclear arms or the state of weapons inspectors in Iraq, and they lose touch with the simple stories that really matter. Here a man, a filthy male porn star even, accuses Tom Cruise of being gay and doing nasty things with him, and that story makes all the major tabloid headlines. Everyone read it, if in the supermarket headlines at least, and yet who will read about Tom Cruise's exoneration? It's a damn shame. Shame on you, media.

And what does Tom Cruise get for all his humiliation? Well, $10 million. But the guy will probably never pay on the bill, he's a gay porn actor, for Christ's sake. How much money is in gay porn? Don't answer that as I never, ever want to know. So basically what we're left here with is Tom Cruise, flooded with accusations and holding a big, stiff bill in his hands. A bill never to be paid. No compensation for all this.

It's nothing new for Tom Cruise. He's been hounded with claims he's gay his entire career. Research Editor Griswald Dreck says much of it stems from Tom Cruise's first claim to fame, a sitcom where he played a gay rock star married to a "beard," with two adopted kids, a show called, Queer as Fuck; that, and the fact he's gay. Which leads me to a very important note, which is to never trust anything Griswald Dreck says. But you didn't hear it here.

So why is Tom Cruise followed by gay rumors? Nothing more than wishful gay-thinking, I would guess. A beautiful, charming Hollywood star with a light touch to his nature, like a modern-day big-teethed Cary Grant. Tom Cruise has more passion than growl, maybe, more sophistication than ruggedness, but does that mean he's gay? Rock Hudson had those same qualities, as did The Brady Bunch's Robert Reed. Now what do you say?

There are plenty of people who would want Tom Cruise to be gay, I'm sure. It's hard to blame them—who hasn't considered nuzzling naked in a large bearskin blanket next to a fire with Tom Cruise? Well, I haven't. I was just trying to trap you. But no matter what gay people want, it doesn't necessarily make it so.

But that alone can't be the answer, otherwise all those rumors about George Clooney I've been starting would have caught on. No, there's something else to Tom Cruise's mystique. And I think I have it.

You see, the gay porn star wasn't lying—he did sleep with Tom Cruise; or believes he did. The answer has been so obvious I'm surprised I'm the first to reveal it. There is a Tom Cruise doppelganger out there, living la vida loca on Tom Cruise's good name. And don't get me started on Ricky Martin.

Who is the Tom Cruise impersonator? Without further evidence, it would be potential libel to say. But if I were the finger-pointing type, I'd point squarely at Peter Facinelli from the show Fastlane. Just take a good long look at him: He looks just like Tom Cruise, he's too pretty to be straight, and I could definitely drop him into a naked bearskin blanket fireplace fantasy and not notice the difference. Someone's been nailing porn stars with Tom Cruise's face, and if I were in a Fox series with Bill Bellamy and Tiffani Amber-Thiessen I'd be so full of anger and resentment there'd be no limits to what I'd do.

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Well, well, well, if it isn't Boguslaw Sadowski—actually, it is. Or someone who looks incredibly like him.

That's correct, good people, my old nemesis, 40 years my junior, has returned: Boguslaw Sadowski. Also known as "the mad Russian," when he gets extremely pissed off. He may not actually be Russian, but I'm not here to argue semites. All I know is he's my arch-enemy and the stakes in this game of me vs. the mob are raised considerably.

You may remember Boguslaw Sadowski posed as a woman on the internet and tricked me into paying for his flight over here from Eurasia—at least you might remember it if it happened to you. He broke my heart that day. I was all set to meet the most unconventionally beautiful woman of my life and make her my bride, only to find out I had been conned by one of the best. Sure, things work out for the better in the long run, and I met my darling Felchyana, which brings me to my current mixed-up with the mob existence. So maybe things work out for the best only to backslide into the territory of terminally fucked up once again.

But I'm rambling, which is unlike me. What's important is that although ostensibly nothing has changed, things have changed considerably. In addition to trying to find a way out of new mob family and still keep my new wife, I now have my latest worst enemy breathing down my neck.

Boguslaw is unattractive—large and burly, a pock-marked face, iron jaw, slick jet-black hair parted down the middle and a nose worn away by years of fisticuffs. The same features I found so attractive when I thought him a woman are now reprehensible and threatening. He is what the ancient Greeks meant when they coined the phrase, "a man not to be fucked with."

I wish I had that luxury. And a speedboat. But time is slippin' into the future and I'm running short on ideas. As if things weren't bad enough, now in addition to finding a way to take out Yogi and the rest of the ambiguously Russian mafia, I must contend with the world's most intimidating 5-foot noseless mobster.

I sought out Omar Bricks' advice, being something of a young ruffian himself, and I believe what he said was quite true: "A man can only be pushed so far until he explodes like a mailbox full of gunpowder." That wasn't so much his advice to me on the situation as it was a warning of what would happen if I kept bothering him for advice. But it's as true in our time as it was in his, yesterday afternoon just before happy hour.

It's clear I will have to act, and with extreme prejudice and racial epithets. But like a thick scab, I must pick my moment. Camembert is already on board, and has guaranteed he will "fight like a crazed rabbit if you drag me into this." Whether he was directing the fighting at me or our common enemy, I'm not sure, but when push comes to shove, Camembert will roll in on my side, if I push him in that direction.

My current thought is to make allies with the, let's say, "Russian" mafia while awaiting Lee's return. When Lee comes back, with his kung-fu grip and sizzling bass lines, I will finally have the backup I need to challenge Yogi for leadership of the mob. Not that I necessarily want to be a mob leader, but I've heard stories like this before—hearty and sincere white people forcing their way into gangs, taking them over, and using them as a tool for good. And if I had a Coolio song to back me up, I could even make it into a box office hit. But first thing's first.

Step one: Bide my time. Step two: Gather a bad-ass army. Step three: Challenge for leadership of the tribe. Step four: Make a hit motion picture with a best-selling soundtrack. Step five: Stop telling all my secret plans in my nationally web-published column. But that's a consideration for a more peaceful time.

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