Never mind the child in the manger, Santa Claus, and/or getting the temple up and running again.
Kindly spit into that test tube we sent you and mail it back to us, dammit.
For the record, it's not that my saliva is all that special. When I was very young, my mother participated in a government-funded study of family life, race, and class, and the good people running the study have had enough grant proposal writing success to keep it alive. I am, it seems, part of a often-used data pool used to track changes across generations, and now they want to know if all this neurosis and charm is genetic.