We See You When You’re Sleeping

Imagine your family tucked warm in their beds on Christmas Eve. The lights on the tree twinkle, cookies and milk wait on the table, and white snowflakes sparkle in the silent night. No last-minute shopping, no fighting crowds at the mall. Your family awakens to the perfect gifts under the tree. And the cookies and milk? Gone, with a note saying “Thank you!”

Relive the childhood wonder of Christmas with Amazon’s North Pole®. North Pole uses the latest Artificial Intelligence (and a touch of elfin magic) through the Echo® devices already in your home. Enable North Pole on all your devices and start an Amazon Christmas List™. Add items through the web, the app, or by speaking to Alexa®. North Pole scans your email, texts, social media, and conversations to suggest gifts your family will love. Your Echo Look® guarantees a perfect fit and style. The results may surprise you.

Set budgets for each family member, and enable Amazon’s always-on Checking It Twice™ (Beta) AI to compute their “naughty or nice” scores for the year, and adjust budgets accordingly. Keep your family on their best behavior with alerts from Santa. And when Christmas Eve finally arrives, Santa’s reindeer drones wait until you’re sleeping (Fitbit or compatible sleep monitor required), and use Amazon Key® to deliver your gifts right under the tree. This year, believe in Christmas again.

PLEASE NOTE: Amazon Krampus® is discontinued. If the Krampus enters your home, please alert our 24/7 customer service and your local authorities.

Sucker Punch

The first truly cold day in Chicago is a sucker punch. Every summer you forget it’s coming, and in the fall, when it shows up, you smirk at it like a schoolyard runt with a chip on his shoulder, brushing him aside until he grabs you by the coat, turns you around, and socks you in the gut like he’s been practicing that move all summer on a punching bag his parents got him in a last ditch effort to vent his bottled-up rage. But he was training. He puts his hips into that punch. And you’re on your ass, the wind knocked out of you, staring up at him with your mouth a silent O, more shocked than angry or afraid. Every day of fall flashes through your mind at once: short sleeves yielding to sweatshirts, coats dragged out of the basement, the chill bedroom air when you climb out from the covers, driving you back under like the groundhog seeing his shadow. The signs were all there. But you just threw on a coat this morning without buttoning it — no hat, gloves, or scarf — because you know Chicago, and you know cold, and you’ve survived it every year and this year will be no different. But the cold knows you too. And he keeps coming back, harder and fiercer, every year, because he’s persistent and he knows that one day when he knocks you down, you won’t get up.