Dear Mr. Claus.....


It's that time of the year, again. I realize you have your hands full and hate to add to the burden you've already got on your shoulders, but there are a few things I'd like you to work on for me. I understand if time constraints will limit what you can do. There are millions of good little boys and girls more deserving of your attention than a broken down old carpenter. But seeing as how a carpenter plays such a pivotal role in this blessed season...Nudge, nudge. Wink, wink.

You also have the home front to contend with. It can't be easy with all you have on your plate.....A corral of moody reindeer sharpening their antlers on everything that doesn't move ( And sometimes on the things that do move. Has the wound healed yet? Must be tough sitting down. ).....Blitzen and company peppering the ranch with steaming piles of Christmas cheer.....Ungrateful elves threatening to unionize if you don't give them an extra week's paid vacation and a designated smoking area.....Keeping the randy little buggers from getting at Mrs. Claus while you're off doing Santa stuff ( it doesn't help that she strolls around in that half-open robe all day, smelling like cookies ).....A leaky roof and noisy pipes in the workshop.....Iffy brakes and finicky transmission on the old sled.....Mailman giving you crap about his bad back, having to tote all those letters up the hill every day.....Doctor giving you crap about your cholesterol and high blood pressure.....Dodging SAMs on those trial runs over Pakistani air space.....Getting the "old lady" to cook something besides candy canes and fudge balls for dinner ( Rudolph's been looking been mighty tasty, I bet ).....Having to listen to The Easter Bunny, The Tooth Fairy, The Great Pumpkin, Cupid and Baby New Year gripe and complain at the Thursday night poker game about you being more popular.....

Not to mention every greedy little pinhead in the world asking for special favors. Yeah, sorry about that, Santa. I wouldn't even consider asking if it wasn't really important to me. Like I said, I know you're bunched up right now. For what it's worth, I've never written you directly before. Was kind of hoping you'd take that into consideration before crumbling my letter and using it to light your pipe. Hey, I'm not judging. Whatever straightens your beard, bud. And from what I hear, that North Pole ganja is so smooth it should be called Nat King Cole.

Anyway, getting back to my dilemma. You've always been good to me in the past. Even when my name was on The Naughty List. You over-looked my indiscretions and made my Christmas mornings special. Looking back, you treated me better than I deserved in most cases, and are under no obligation to extend that good grace and grant my present requests. But I would be grateful if you did. If you would just look over my Christmas Wish List and see what you can do, I'd be in your debt. Thanks, big guy.

I wish.....

.....a squirrel would mistake Mara's junk for an acorn and stick it in a knot hole 60 feet up in a termite-ridden tree.

.....Dan Bailey had lady parts and a thing for middle-aged carpenters.

.....Mila Kunis also had a thing for middle-aged carpenters.

.....Dallas 49, Chicago 3.

.....I could make my butt glow like a lightning bug.

.....Sean Lee would get the chance to hit Golden Tate so hard his colon explodes.

.....every referee that ignored a holding penalty against DeMarcus Ware would be forced to do nothing but watch Pauly Shore movies for all eternity.

.....Jason Garrett would use the word "process" a tad more.

.....KD would put burning incense in his dreads and wear an eye-patch on his next video. And start the show with a hearty "AARGH!".

.....Dallas 49, Washington 3.

.....someone would make Honey Boo-Boo eat a salad. Poor kid.

.....every fast food joint was a Whataburger.

.....the real Dez Bryant would decide to show up.

And if he already has, I wish.....

.....someone would stab me in the eye with a carrot.

.....Roger Goodell would get ravaged by a horny beaver.

.....Dallas 49, Green Bay 3.

.....Tony and Candice have a healthy second child. Then she leaves him for me.

.....Nutter Butters were the main course in every meal.

.....Drew Pearson would tag the Hall Of Fame building with big, blue 88's.

.....I wouldn't giggle uncontrollably every time someone says the word "pianist".

.....there were more synonyms for "loathe". Roget's doesn't have nearly enough to adequately capture my hatred for Michael Vick.

.....Dallas 49, Philadelphia 0. Screw'em. They don't deserve any points.

.....karma would finally catch up to Roethlisberger. Just typing that name makes me want to sterilize my laptop.

.....I had X-ray vision. Would finally get to see Barbara Eden's belly button.

.....Peyton Manning would shell out a few bucks for a decent haircut. The NFL's poster boy shouldn't look like a mental patient.

.....Jed posted more.

.....I didn't like the way satin felt against my skin. Damn you, Victoria's Secret.

.....Super Bowl XLVIII: Dallas 49, Irrelevant AFC Team 3.

.....Ratliff all the best with his new team. Nope, couldn't keep a straight face.

.....Gene and Paul would make a KISSmas album.

.....a 'roided-out woodpecker would make Eli's face his beeyotch.

.....John Gruden would stop talking. Please.

And if that's not possible, I wish.....

.....everyone would just stop listening. some point, the entire civilized world would be forced to get on their knees and apologize to Tony Romo.

.....someone would crack open Deion's head and Hoover out the bantha fodder.

.....Hatch would come back next season for free.

.....Sims would not come back at all.

.....Sheldon would grow a pair and make Amy howl like a banshee.

.....Tom Brady would get a colonoscopy from a seizuring Freddie Krueger.

.....everyone else would realize just how ridiculously funny Pee Wee Herman is...was... was socially acceptable to fart in public. I do my best work in book stores.

.....I could spell "guarantee". Hey, look at me!

.....we had 53 Wittens on the roster.

.....Romo would just haul off and kick an O-lineman in the shin the next time he gets creamed.

.....I never hear the word "hamstring" again in my life. was possible to watch a Miami Dolphins game without yawning. I miss Mercury Morris.

.....the Super Bowl was played in November.

.....Si Robertson was my uncle.

.....Vivica Fox was my aunt.

.....cousins weren't so much fun to practice with.

.....I hadn't said that out loud.

.....I breathe my last with a fishing pole in one hand and a plump brunette in the other.

Lastly, and most sincerely, I wish.....

.....all my BTB brethren have a joyous and fulfilling Holliday Season. Love you guys. Even the knuckleheads and buffoons.

Well, Santa, I know it's a fairly long list, and some of my requests may require you to step outside your comfort zone. Not expecting you to break the bank and go all in for me, but a token nod on some of them doesn't seem unreasonable. I tried to whittle my wishes down to the bare necessities to make your job a bit easier. Hope my selflessness impresses your sensibilities.

I'll keep the fire burning for you. Not in the fireplace, though---I know how much you hate that. You can expect a nice homemade rum cake and a bottle of the finest vodka on the mantle, as usual. Thank you, again, for everything you do. You're the best.


Another user-created commentary provided by a BTB reader.

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