Dear Santa-
Wow, we’re really getting down to the wire here. I know it’s kinda late in the season but I thought I should write anyway, just in the off chance this reaches you in time. This letter marks the 35th anniversary of the first time I wrote to you and I’m going to celebrate the occasion by not asking for a death ray (34 years is enough time to fucking invent one let alone deliver it, so I have to assume you’re just not gonna come through on that request.). Nor will I be asking for video games and comic books again. No, I’m going to switch it up and act my age for a change. I’m pushing 40 for Christ’s sake, it’s probably time to start making more adult requests in my letters to you. Anyway, on to business:
- First, I’d like a raise. I’m asking you because I know there’s no fucking point in asking my boss.
- Second, I’d like a new economy. This one is coughing up blood and it seems cruel to just sit back and watch as it slowly dies.
- Third, I’d like you to make a reservation in Hell for Rod Blagojevich and, really, anyone who’d sell an open Senate seat for personal gain in lieu of what’s best for the country and the people who live in it. And not just any place in Hell, it has to be someplace particularly awful: The Anal Rampage Room perhaps. I’d ask Satan but his number isn’t listed and I’d feel awkward praying to God for something that horrible, so…
- Fourth, I’d like a gift card to Home Depot for $300,000.
- And, lastly, I want a bike.
That’s about it, really. Oh, and I’ve been pretty good this year, by the way. I haven’t kicked a single politician in the nutsack and it was an election year, and everything. So that has to count for something. Good luck tomorrow night!
Your Pal,
Tim