Friday, December 24, 2010

Santa to Spare: Forget It!

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," Stimulate-the-Economy Edition! Buy now, pay later. After all, it's what our government does -- and who's to argue with Uncle Sam?

A week or so ago, I posted a letter that my daughter The Spare wrote to Santa Claus in a shamelessly pandering attempt to demand request some Christmas gifts. Today Santa's response came, and it's starting to look like no Christmas is coming! I reprint Santa's reply below, in total:

Dear Spare Child,

I have received your letter of 12/15/10, sent by Tardis. My reply comes via the same route. I will address the pertinent points in your communication and make resolves and recommendations as appropriate.

First, your excessive flattery does little to incline me to grant your wishes. I happen to know that YOUR TRUE HEROES are all Internet geek nerd comics, not me. Don't you remember that I see you when you're sleeping and know when you're awake (in a totally tasteful, legal, and appropriate way, of course)? Do not think that you can spend hours and days watching Internet and television comedy shows, and then -- at the 11th hour -- come begging for presents! Why don't you ask those punks at College Humor to get you some t-shirts? Oh, I know! Because THEY are writing to me asking for a new t.v. show!

Now, let's look at your claim that you are good. Oh, pleeeze! Check out your Zip code! I don't even stop in Snobville! Everyone there is either a spoiled rich kid whose parents can buy everything they want, and then some, or a piano-trashing stoner party animal, discarding poppers while escaping the police. I save 16.2 seconds by ignoring Snobville, and in my line of work, it's all about timing. You want gifts? Move to Wenonah.

I don't mind your little fires all that much. But it has come to my attention that you are a terrible American. My reputation would seriously plunge if I rewarded terrible Americans. So get that patriotic piece together before you so much as ask me for a single strand of taffy.

As a corollary to your terrible patriotism, it has not escaped my notice (nothing does) that you are incapable of bestowing respect and obedience on people who have no respect for you. Do I need to name *cough French Teacher* *cough Drama Coach* *cough School Bully* names? Grovel or shovel (coal), Spare Child!

Last but not least, I wish to remind you that much largesse has already been bestowed upon you this year, principally in the form of numerous trips to thrift stores and flea markets. Why should I bring you new merchandise when you can find similar stuff at bargain basement prices elsewhere?

Therefore, I will bestow upon you the following:

*You will never have to clean the cat box.
*You will never have to attend youth group meetings.
*You can have 16 crickets and three stink bugs. Just look under the Christmas tree. They'll be there, bright and early on Christmas morning ... as long as it's just like every other morning in  your house.

As for the whole "Xmas" thing, just you remember -- Solstice is the reason for the season!

Peace,
Santa Claus

4 comments:

Intense Guy said...

Nothing like an ornery Santa. Spare needs to find out who pissed in his wheaties.

Debra She Who Seeks said...

Hmmmm, doesn't bode well for Xmas morning. I hope I'm wrong though.

YELLOWDOG GRANNY said...

I happen to know that Santa is a serious softy and she will get her hearts desire...Happy yule my friend

The Wizardess said...

I expected a Santa-ly admonition about the difference between "your" and "you're". Santa happens to care deeply about this point of spelling/meaning! Harumph!