Like any good myth, Santa Claus embodies the values cherished by the cultures that believe in him. He's gone through many permutations in the long journey from St. Nicholas, the man, in the 4th Century to the jolly old elf with cheeks of jelly who sneaks down our chimney, with many submythologies in our cultural tributaries (I recently discovered on Amazon Prime, for example, a claymation Santa Claus creation myth where he is a human raised by wood elves, brought to Earth by a Gandalf-like wizard.)
Santa has comes to represent many things to children: wonder, joy, presents, etc. To adults, though, especially the ones with streaks of pathos and/or ironic humor, Santa is a tabula rasa for two cultural indicators intrinsic to American culture: sex and violence.
Both the sex and the violence are on full, humorless display in the 1984 horror flick Silent Nighy, Deadly Night, a story of a guy whose family was murdered by a guy in a Santa Claus suit when he was a child which of course led him to become the Oedipal heir and become a serial killer in a Santa suit as an adult. This movie haunted my junior high Christmas fantasies, and apparently spawned a full five sequels.
If ever there was a band uniquely suited to give a musical rendition of this slasher Santa myth, it is the Killers, which they did on the first of their annual strange Christmas songs, "Don't Shoot Me, Santa":
But (hopefully) no one will ever fulfill the Santa massacre myth with more satirical aplomb than Matt Groening's masterpiece, Futurama (yes, it's much better than the Simpsons, if only because it knew when to stop, when to start again, and when it was finally over). Every Christmas from 1999-2003 and 2010-2013, we got a Robot Santa, who keeps track of all our naughtiness on large screens on the planet Neptune and punishes us every Xmas with no mercy and no remorse.