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. Read more »