A LETTER TO OLD ST. NICK
I’ve been thinking. For the last couple of days I’ve had the pleasure of going all ‘Terminator’ on those barricuda Christmas shoppers at the mall. As much as I’d love to say I enjoyed getting toys snatched out of my hands, my feet stepped on and my face scratched by some old lady because my shopping cart was blocking hers, I have to admit that this year’s Christmas shopping experience has been one great big ball of cow poo! With that in mind, I wonder what you would do if your ass didn’t have those little brown-nosing elves to get all of your Christmas shopping out of the way, and eight reindeer to fly you over traffic jams, bird-flipping drivers and cops who are itching to give you a ticket.
I bet you wouldn’t handle it so well would you? By the end of your experience, you’d probably be somewhere in a bar getting completely wasted. Trust me, there are about 30 million, give or take another 30 million people – plus me, who end up in a bar fight after Christmas shopping. If you think that’s bad, just wait until the post-Christmas sales. I’d pay to see the look on your face if you had to deal with that.
Goodness gracious, Santa, I see why your hair is white and you’re so fat. You are under a lot of stress. You’re probably getting drunk all the time. Santa, are you an alcoholic? Is that why you have reindeer chauffeuring you around vs. you driving a big old U-Haul truck? Well, any way, what goes on in your home isn’t my business until it hits prime time news. So enough of the drunk-Santa jokes. Actually Santa, I kind of feel for you. While we regular Joes only have to shop for our small families, you have to shop for the entire world. You have to be mindful of the old, the dirty, the unpleasing, the ungrateful, the arrogant, the evil and the rude. That has to be a job in itself, attempting to satisfy those who are never satisfied at all. Who could blame you for getting smashed?
You’re probably in cahoots with drug dealers, bank robbers and psychiatrists, because I couldn’t imagine any sane, sober person attempting to take on the challenge that you’ve committed yourself to. And that sweet old Mrs. Claus is probably some bitter old skank who can’t count to –5- and only bakes burnt cookies to pay you back for keeping her trapped all the way in the North Pole. She can’t even get any because you’re out shopping all year for other people. She’s probably always PMSing because she’s too far away from civilization to have an affair; and no doubt the elves are out of the question. And in your spare time, you probably only have time to practice your aim for when you sh*t bricks down the chimneys of everyone who mocked you all year long, leaving yourself too grumpy to shut Mrs. Claus up and break her off a lil somethin’ somethin’. Not to mention you’re probably always tired and in a grumpy mood because you’re strapped for cash, having to feed all them damn elves and those hungry ass reindeer.
Geez Santa, I was ready to rip you to shreds. But now that I understand merely the possibilities of what you have to deal with all year long that we normal folks only have to deal with about 7-14 days out of a year, I’ll let you off the hook. In fact, I’ll do better than that. I’ll raise this glass to you in honor of keeping up the tradition of Christmas. It’s because of your drunk ass that we are guaranteed to get laid on Christmas eve, and if the gift is good enough, on Christmas night too. Thanks to you, our kids are nicer, our mother-in-laws don’t call, and our employees show up to work on time.
Kudos to you Santa! Not for being lucky enough not to be the 100th person in the checkout line when the cash registers opens to the 3rd customer; kudos to you for only being fat after having to deal with all of that drama at home. Just promise me one thing: That you and Mrs. Claus won’t remake any Ike/Tina or Chris/Rihanna Christmas specials. I don’t think out networks can handle that right now, well not in the midst of our administration shift and all.
Well, that’s about it for now, Santa. Keep your head up.
Quote of the Week: “Get your ass out of the street if you can’t see where you’re going.”