Dear Girls and Boys:
I hesitate to say it, but some of you are becoming too greedy. You plop yourself on my lap and recite a long list of goodies you want for Christmas. Sorry, but you sound like you think you're entitled. You want contraceptives. Abortions. Cell phones. Insurance. Who do you think I am? President Obama?
I think many of you have become Santa-dependent. If I may suggest, you cannot expect me to solve all the problems in your life. That's why we have a fat federal government. Washington is awash in cash, unlike old Santa who gets by on a monthly Social Security check.
Believe it or not, I have my own share of problems. The elves organized themselves into a union after some folks from the AFL-CIO showed up at the North Pole. Now they are demanding a 35-hour work week during the Christmas season. It really has gummed up toy production.
Then Rudolph came out of the closet and declared he was homosexual. Surprised me, because I always thought Prancer was the gay one. Some of the other reindeer objected, which caused a ruckus. Next thing I know, TV reporters from North Pole's only station arrived with cameras when Al Sharpton came with a bus load of protesters wearing antler hats.
Mrs. Claus has not been much help this year. She spent most of the Christmas season trying to sign up for Obamacare. The website crashed just as she entered the information about her political affiliation. I told her she should never admit to being a Republican.
Then a team of environmentalists parachuted into the North Pole. They shut down the coal-fired plant in town and converted it to wind power. Santa's workshop is now dependent on northers for electricity. When the wind doesn't blow, Santa's lights don't glow.
To make matters worse, a record snow storm hit the North Pole this week. The reindeer have gone into hiding just thinking about hauling that heavy sleigh through deep snow. I keep hearing about global warming, but it's as cold as a reindeer's you-know-what up here. Call me a denier.
Even old Santa has landed in the middle of a controversy. Some newscaster at the Fox network said I was white. I never thought there was any doubt. But apparently a few folks were offended. To make amends, I have visited my local tanning salon for a month. I swear I could pass for Jesse Jackson.
Heck, I no longer dream of a White Christmas. I want a rainbow Christmas. If he were alive, Bing Crosby would be crooning, "I'm Dreaming of A Black, Brown, Yellow, White Holiday." The word "Christmas" ticks off some people, so it'd have to be scratched.
Then Mrs. Claus put me on a Jenny Craig diet. I tried to tell her that I was supposed to have an ample belly. It's part of the legend of Santa. But that didn't matter. If I eat one more asparagus tip, I think I am going to explode in anger. In my current state, I keep imagining Dancer in a pot roast.
As you can see, boys and girls, Santa could use a few gifts of his own to brighten my Christmas. My list is shorter than most of yours. I desire a little family peace. Some joy. Perhaps, a few good tidings. But most of all, I just want to rejoice in the spirit of Christmas.
I think you boys and girls should wish for the same things. You can do without all the stuff you think you need. And you would be a lot happier, too.
Merry Christmas,
Santa Claus
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