My Letter to Santa

Dear Santa,
I know it's pretty early in the year to start writing you letters, but there is a lot on my mind and I wish to unload it before my usual string of moral mishaps have banished me indelibly from your "Good" list. First of all, those girls I allegedly made cry have all moved on with their lives- and let's face it: there are far fewer instances of me (allegedly) crushing people's hopes and dreams, this year. Along the same lines, I have turned down more than my share of dishonest bribes this year. Although it was for the joy of such Hope and Dream Crushing, rather than integrity, I feel the point is moot (and awfully hard to prove). I'm not normally susceptible to bribes in the first place, but this year I have taken (slightly) less joy in souring the human spirit. Furthermore, I feel that I have improved as a human being- although kindness is something I don't understand, I do at least pretend to possess it. Imitating life is something that we would expect from, say, an advanced robot. This year, I am like an advanced robot, whereas in years previous I imitated life about as well as a vacuum cleaner which is a bit too loud to justify. So you see? Improvement!
Also, I'm not writing this letter in the blood of an innocent. (That child was totally guilty!)

But as long as we're on the subject: Who the hell are you to judge me?! Seriously, Santa- I have had enough of your uppity bullshit. And I think I speak for all free-thinkers when I say it! What makes you so freaking perfect? What gives you the right to weigh all of humanity on your totalitarian scales of "Good" and "Bad"? Are you the son of some kind of God? No? Maybe you have risen to power through all sorts of saintly acts which deem you better than the rest of us. Oh, no? Not that either, huh? So, what exactly gives you the right to determine our fates with your holy list-making?

Oh. You break into people's houses, steal their milk and cookies, and leave them presents. Okay, I'll admit that leaving them presents is pretty cool... when they live up to your standards. But what child in the world hasn't done something to banish them from your "Good" list? I mean, is there some sort of consolation prize for those of us who are bad (but kind of want to be good) or those who haven't been bad, but didn't necessarily do anything good, either? Is there anything out there for those who sit on the moral fence- or sit on the bad side only because that fence is really hard to climb? Oh, you give out coal, don't you? Fucking coal. Now, I'm sure there was a time when a lump of coal could serve a purpose. But in this day and age, a child like me recieves a lump of coal and I can't do anything good with it. I can't even draw a picture with it. Okay, I probably could draw a picture with coal, but it would be a really crappy picture with only one shade and tons of those little fingerprint-smudges covering the white spaces. But the point is: If you give coal to someone other than those heavenly suck-ups on the "Good" list, what did you expect us to do with it? Therefore, it is your fat fault I fed coal to Mrs. Thatcher's poodle. It is your fault I threw coal through the fire station's window the year before. And the year before that... that alleged incident with the old people at the park? That one is your fault, too.

What did you think was going to happen? It's like putting a bottle of scotch in front of a drunk ten minutes before his DUI hearing. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy of badness that you inspire deliberately.

But we forgive you, Santa. Because one day out of the year, you lift your tubby ass off the couch to give back to those of us under your shoe. Thanks, fuck-face. Maybe you should show kindness more than once a year- and to everybody equally. Like Oprah. If you were more like Oprah, maybe you wouldn't be receiving hate-mail like this (though you probably would, from me). Charity has become a job for you. But it isn't a job you perform every day- or even once a week. You show kindness one time a year. And the rest of your days are filled with voyeurism, as you watch the children sleeping, and judgment as you decide which ones are "Naughty" and which ones are "Prudes." Or whatever the word was. And let's not forget your self-indulgent, gluttonous eating habits, you chunky bastard. Maybe you should turn that lightning insight and dazzling judgment inward, Grizzly Adams.

Oh, and shave the beard, Robinson Crusoe. The Zuess Look is out this year. You look like a homeless man. Or a bus driver.

Fuck you and your pedestal,
-Grady Richards.