Celebrating Santa’s goat-demon sidekick at Krampusfest in Media

I joined more than 50 troublemakers in Media on Tuesday night to celebrate Santa’s unhuggable sidekick, that craggy goat demon of Christmas chaos known as Krampus, during the borough’s second annual Krampusfest.

There were Krampus tales, Krampus carols, and a promenade down State Street to the borough’s main square for a reading of the naughty list. Those on the naughty list (yes, I was among them) were publicly thrashed by Krampus with tiny sticks. It’s kind of his thing.

Held on Krampusnacht, or Krampus Day (yes, it’s an actual holiday), Krampusfest is organized by the Media Fright Fest, a film festival that’s a program of the Media Arts Council.

Festival cochair Karen Chiarini said Krampus celebrations exist across the country — from the Krewe of Krampus in New Orleans to the Krampus Rampage & Bazaar in Bloomington, Ind. In Philly, Krampus and other dark, winter folklore characters are celebrated during the Parade of Spirits, which takes place this Saturday in Northern Liberties.

But Delco was woefully lacking a Krampus celebration until last year.

“I think Delco has a lot of weird to it,” Chiarini said. “This is like that alternate Christmas for all of us who love Halloween. Now we can keep it going through December.”

Organizers teamed up with Matt Lake, author of books like Night of the Krampus, Krampus Carols Ancient and Modern, and Weird Pennsylvania, who served as master of ceremonies. Lake dressed as St. Nicholas and regaled the crowd with creepy Christmas tales and folklore.

For the uninitiated, Krampus is a giant, anthropomorphic horned goat demon who punishes children on the naughty list by beating them with tiny sticks (or by eating them or taking them straight to hell). He’s not Santa’s enemy, but more his “agent of retribution” who does his dirty work for him, Lake said.

A centuries-old folklore that originated in central Europe, Krampus’ prominence in popular culture has risen since the 2015 release of the horror-comedy movie Krampus, starring Toni Collette and Adam Scott, Chiarini said.

As a first-time attendee this year, I’ve assembled this list of dos and don’ts for future Krampusfest goers.

If you’ve ever wanted to show your horns, Krampusfest is the place to do it. Folks came sporting horns of all shapes and sizes, from ones made out of black duct tape and pipe cleaners to ones made out of real antlers.

It was standing-room only at the Media Arts Council building for Lake’s hilarious and enlightening “sermon” about the monsters of yule beyond Krampus, absolutely none of which I’d ever heard of.

In Iceland, they fear the Yule Cat, who kills you if you aren’t wearing new clothes; in Sweden, the Yule Goat judges your holiday preparations; and in Germany, Frau Perchta spreads light but also stuffs you with trash if you’re bad.

Krampus seems like a kitten in comparison. The last thing I want is side-eye from a goat who thinks I’ve got my garland all wrong. That would be very baaad.

Lake said the moral of these folklore tales is to “take care of your sh- in the winter, or this is what could go wrong.”

(Yes, I put a new coat on my Christmas list to ward off a giant, murderous cat.)

One of the highlights of the evening was singing along with attendees from Lake’s book of Krampus Carols Ancient and Modern.

With songs like “Oh, Run All Ye Fearful,” “We Wish You A Scary Christmas,” and “The First ‘Oh Hell!’” it was hard to pick a favorite, but “Dangers We Have Heard Are Nigh” ranks high up there. I never thought I’d be singing “gorier” to the tune of “Gloria,” but I thoroughly enjoyed it.

After the presentation and singing of Krampus carols, festivalgoers were encouraged to carol down the sidewalk on State Street to the main square for a reading of the naughty list. They were discouraged, however, from calling it a parade.

Parades require permits and Krampus doesn’t do permits. He’s got carte blanche permission from Santa to do whatever he wants. But for legal reasons, just call this short sidewalk procession a promenade.

Before the promenade, Lake passed around a naughty list and encouraged attendees to write down their names. Now, I wouldn’t usually be found on the naughty list (my own mother-in-law once gave me a winter pajama set that said “Snow nice” on it!), but my curiosity got the best of me, so I signed up.

Once at the main square, Lake read the names on the naughty list and had each person come up and confess their sin. Then he determined how many thrashings Krampus should rain down upon them.

Some — like my husband, who wore the ugly Krampus sweater he’s had for years (suck up) and said his biggest sin was “swearing” (pfffffttt!) — were immediately absolved and did not have to face Krampus’ wrath, much to the chagrin of their spouses.

Others, like me, had a hard time coming up with a creative sin on the spot. I confessed to writing terrible puns and loving it and only received three licks from Krampus’ sticks (of note: all public thrashings were pantomimed, nobody was actually hit, which some on the naughty list seemed quite sad about).

Then, there were those who came prepared with epic sins, like toppling foreign governments, keeping a library book two weeks past the due date, and buying Communion wafers from Amazon, which they used for a cheese plate.

I’d like to give a final shout out to the grown man who put “Holden Mygroin” down as his name on the naughty list. You, sir, have secured an annual visit from Krampus for a long time to come.