Note from Dan: My God, there must be a dozen or more outfits out there that will take your money to send your child a personalized letter from Santa. Here’s one they won’t be sending this year:
Have I ever told you the one about the year I was so washed-out-looking after a long run on crystal meth that I showed up to midnight mass with some strategically applied blush?
That was so my mom wouldn’t worry I was too pale. (My dad was too drunk to notice . . . This was before he joined AA).
Ho, ho, ho!
It’s a true story but DON’T mention it to mommy and daddy because they’ll freak out. I’ll dump a Norfolk Southern coal-car load in your front yard if you breathe a word of the truth to the ‘rents.
So anyway, here is your annual letter from Mr. Claus, aka Santa. Mommy and daddy got worried, from all the Netflix you’ve been watching, that you’d be too lazy to write ME a letter — which, for your information, is the way it’s supposed to work.
So those idiots got ME to write this one to YOU. And (bonus!) they PAID me to do it! Can you believe that?
Of course that money is coming out of the cash they put aside for your Christmas gifts. Yes, count this letter as one less Lego set you’re getting this year. Because I don’t make squat anymore. Your mom and dad buy all the presents on Amazon.com and at Toys R Us.
Things went downhill a few years ago when Mrs. Clause ran off with one of the elves after he seduced her into the S&M scene. The other elves went on strike, demanding I pay them the same wages that Walmart pays its blue-vested goons — the nerve! Without me, they’re nothing more than run-0f-the-mill midgets.
The North Pole is thawing from global warming so bad that my reindeer are sweating buckets. My red-and-white fuzzy suit has been trimmed down to a wife-beater T-shirt and a g-string. Rudolph is long dead from liver disease — you didn’t think his nose turned red from magic, did you?
Christmas used to mean something. Now, it’s just a giant marketing pain in the ass, in which parents get blackmailed into incurring debt and a boatload of “Christians” scream “THEY’RE TAKING THE CHRIST OUT OF CHRISTMAS!!!!”
Newsflash: That happened decades ago, before those jerkwad, book-selling talking heads were even born.
Now, it’s about selling useless knickknacks to numbskulls who will give them to other numbskulls who will never use them — if they’re smart they will re-gift them. And, of course, getting you to spend money.
Sam’s Club starts putting out the decorations after Labor Day. The whole holiday’s a farce, just like this letter mommy paid me to write.
In other words, you’re dumb if you believe in Santa. There are no flying reindeer. I don’t like cookies and milk. I do like brandy, but if you leave some out for me I won’t drink it because I’m not gonna be in your house, or any others. I’ve never crawled down a chimney. So don’t be dumb.
Your parents are liars — but not me.
Ho, ho, ho and MERRY CHRISTMAS.
I’d promise you some mittens but it’ll be 65 that day so you won’t need’em.