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Dear Santa;
It's hard to argue I've been good this year. In any case, that's
what my parole officer says, ha-ha. (That's a joke, as you know
I haven't seen my parole officer in months and neither has
anyone else.) In fact, I would say that considering the stresses
I'm under as a modern Father, Husband, full time employee of a
non-profit-i.e.-pays-for-shit-'educational'-institution,
Unitarian/Jew, hobbyist pornographer, I think I've been very
well behaved. The few incidents of road rage should be
overlooked since I don't have a car and it was the booze
talking. Likewise, while I may have told my eldest daughter you
don't exist, I was only being mean to her and I lie constantly
so it's unlikely she took me seriously. I think I more than made
up for it by telling her, that in a fight between totally made
up people, you would beat the crap out of Jesus. I'm pretty
certain I have not cheated on my wife at all in the last year or
if I did it was during blackouts and if I'm going to get coal in
my stocking for things I've done while in blackouts, hell, I'll
start heating with coal. Like you're in any position to judge,
Mr. "Well-I-Guess-We'll-Have-To-Cancel-Christmas".
My point is, it's not up to me whether you judge me naughty or
nice so I figured I'd hedge my bets and send you a Christmas
list. You know, if you're not too busy with the forced Elf Labor
and whatever the hell genetic engineering you get up to with
those reindeer. (I'm kidding. I'm sure the Elves enjoy their
work, and Reindeer can't talk so do what you want, I say.
Especially that Clarice. Rrrrrr, between you and me, Santa,
Those eyelashes, know what I'm saying? I know you do.)
Anyway, here's what I want:
1.) Peace on Earth. I shit you not, Santa. I'm not just saying
that to look all goody goody so you'll give me the other stuff.
I mean, I can't even express how much the news depresses me
these days, like I want to hear about soldiers dying and child
slavery and all that crap. It's gotten to the point where even
with my Discman on I can't shut it all out, so either make me
even more selfish or clean this mess up, and frankly I don't
care which.
2.) Booze. I'm not that concerned about the quality. I don't
appreciate it, it's wasted on me, I'm strictly talking about
utility booze here.
3.) No electronic shit. If anyone gets me electronic shit I'm
blaming you. I'm too damn old, there's no damn way I'm figuring
out how to operate Tivo or a Blackberry or any damn, hand held
crap with weeny little buttons my fat, arthritic, shaky fingers
can't even find, let alone push. NO ELECTRONIC GADETRY unless it
comes with a teenage slave to make it work. A girl teenage
slave. Pretty. And not a big talker.
4.) More Time to Spend With My Kids. They're not slaves exactly
but they still do what I tell them generally speaking and my
back hurts like hell since that time I was found asleep in the
locker at the Port Authority.
5.) A Better Lawyer. I mean, honest to Christ, Santa, what the
hell is the point of a shyster who can't get me workman's comp
for the damage done to my lower back sleeping in a Port
Authority Locker?
6.) A Helper Monkey. Those things are the coolest and apparently
you can't just have one because you want one, you have to be
handicapped. I'm not kidding, Santa, it's apparently some sort
of 'law'. I think restricting me from having my own Helper
Monkey is a serious infringement of my civil rights, so if
there's no way to get a Helper Monkey in my stocking, just go
back and change number five from "A Better Lawyer" to "A Better
Lawyer Who's Really Good With The Whole Civil Rights Thing
vis-a-vis Helper Monkeys."
7.) Worse Hearing. I know that sounds odd but at Thanksgiving my
wife's Uncle Leon was there, and he has this hearing aid. And
for most of the evening he had it turned way low and whatever
you said he'd yell something unrelated back at you, like you'd
say "Uncle Leon, how's the soup?" and he'd yell "BECAUSE THE
DAMN JEWS WON'T GIVE ME FULL DENTAL!" and then Aunt Imogene gave
him hell and made him turn it all the way up, and he did and it
started making this high pitched squealing noise? And then he
fell asleep. That was so cool.
8.) Good Slippers. Every winter my feet get cold and wet until
they feel like two, huge lumps of fresh Mozzarella in brine and
every year my kids get me some cheap ass slippers that are too
tight and my feet can't breath and they feel like hot Mozzarella
instead of cold Mozzarella and I have to pretend I like them. Is
a decent pair of slippers too friggin' much to ask for, Santa?
9.) For Donald Rumsfeld to suddenly vomit up gallons of live
leeches on national TV until he dies. No shit, Santa, I know
that sounds harsh, but I hate that son of a bitch so bad, I am
not kidding, if I could have Donald Rumsfeld gagging and
clutching at his throat with his eyes bugging out and shit and
then keeling over dead on live national TV, I would totally
forgo everything else on this list. Either that or make me
Donald Rumsfeld. He looks like he's having a pretty good time.
10.) I'm not even asking for a new liver. I'm just saying if I
could get on a donor list. Because the Hospital says my liver is
in okay shape, but I know it can take a really long time to get
to the front of a donor list.
11.) You know that movie "Scanners"?
That old David Cronenbergh thing where these people had psychic
powers and could make other peoples heads go all shaky and then
blow up? Can I have that?
12.) Peace in the Middle East. I swear to God, if these bastards
drag us into a Nuclear Armageddon at a point in my life where I
have not even been with two women at once or thrill killed a
hobo, I will hold you personally responsible.
13.) Tickle me Elmo. I don't know how the hell I missed the boat
on this, a few years back one of my kids was absolutely begging
for one and I was all like 'Tickle me Elmo, what the hell is
that, you only want that 'cause everyone else does, screw that,
a canned ham is a great gift'. I saw one of these things at a
garage sale? Fucking hysterical, Santa. But they wanted like ten
bucks for it, which is insane, so I'm asking you.
14.) A Genie. Like, a Barbara Eden type Genie who's all 'master'
this and 'master' that and could get me anything I wanted
whenever. Then I wouldn't need to even write you anymore letters
and just the thought of you in a midriff exposing harem outfit
is very hard to take, no offense. You know what, screw the rest
of the list, just get me the Genie, and I'll take it from there.
So, anyway, I hope you're having a good Holiday season, even
though it's like, a busy time for you I'm sure, and tell Mrs.
Clause I say hello, and tell Rudolph I was just kidding about
Clarice, (like he doesn't know we're all thinking it anyway, am
I right, Santa?). I bet I know what you want for Christmas if
that "Polar Express" film is any indication. A gift certificate
for a Tom Hanks exterminator! The North Pole is apparently
infested with Tom Hanks! Ha-ha. I'm kidding. You're the miracle
gift giver, not me. All you're getting is the plate of cookies
just like always.
Love,
MAX
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