Attn: Mr. Santa Claus

THE FOLLOWING ARE MY REQUESTS for the year's upcoming festival of gifts, with sufficient reasoning for my requests, and I understand that resources may not be so abundant from recent economic climate — I hope you hadn't need to lay off elves! But, for me, I'm not seeking such expensive technologies as I am a just a little Christmas miracle. Some Saint Nick magic. Any one of the following, if you can, please:

If we're being resourceful, how about a winning lottery ticket? I mean, it won't actually set you back much financially. OK, I suppose I'm a little hesitant to just jump out and ask for an actual miracle. In Christmas movies, the only miracle is having any toys at all and watching money-grubbing men get knocked to the ground by children's expression of happiness. Mainly, I'd rather not hang out with some crazy, wingless angel named Clarence, or Casper and the box he never travels without, beating up Joe Pesci with intricate booby-traps! Not my style, per se.

I suppose you're more likely to grant my Christmas wish if it helps others. How about a social concern: Why do public bathrooms smell so bad? Well, I guess that's to be expected. But, have you ever noticed that your own crap smells worse at a public toilet than it does at home? Mine does. So, the gift of fragrance, to the world! I don't want you to have to clean all the toilets yourself! But, seriously, would the elves have to clean them? Is it politically correct to say "elf"? How many do you currently have employed? I bet you could outsource a lot of their work to save some money — the toilet cleaning, not the toy making. If you ever need a branch manager, I'm your man. Anyway, do consider the joy the world would feel! If that's too much, well . . .

I have always wanted to be taller. I mean, I'm tall to satisfaction at 5'10", but girls just have to wear heels. Maybe I just need a shoe-size boost in confidence. It's a bit much to ask you to make all girls shorter! They are your creation, after all. Oh, wait. I see what I did. See, you and God look so much alike, it's uncanny. It's all in the beard! I think I'd make a good father, because I can always tell pictures of God apart from pictures of you, even though you both have the same beard. My kids would never get confused while I'm around.

Speaking of which — were you ever a kid? I have this theory, because you are the most generous of the Claus family tree, that you were never a child, and so, missing childhood, you've decided to give gifts so that no one has to miss out. The details of my theory are sketchy, feel free to fill me in sometime.

By the way, did you hear about those neutrinos traveling faster than light? I keep hearing "Einstein is out" and "Time travel is possible." Maybe you already knew that. Delivering gifts in one night and whatnot. It boggles me. I mean, you've got all those reindeer, but are they really aliens? No one has seen them, so I bet they don't even look like deer. Quantum rockets, I bet you have. Santa, the scientist of physics! An engineer! I've figured you out, old man. You design and produce so many toys every year, you've got to make toys for yourself! Oh, what a great present that would be. Okay, I change my request. I want whatever Santa wants for Christmas. I'm starting to see why people talk about The Sharper Image so much right around Christmas. Those gadgets are the real toys.

Which reminds me: How do you know what to get everyone. I mean everyone. If I could really have one thing, I want the ability to give appropriate gifts. I get so anxious before the holidays! It starts in November — the anxiety is minimal, and math related. How much time do I have to get gifts? When is the latest I can start shopping? I write it as an equation. Solve for x, x being the day to start shopping. x = December 25th – November 1st. I suddenly remember the chloroformic effect math has on me, just before falling down and napping all month.

I mean, I don't think people expect much from me, in light of the types of gifts I gave as a kid. Here's a coupon for a free hug, or I guess I could wash your car. Here's a quarter on some cotton in an empty box. Here's a book that I know you'll like because it was in your room and I lost the bookmark sorry. And what gifts am I giving now? A gift card for gas. A gift receipt in a box with an ugly shirt. A book I don't know if you'll like but you watch a lot of Fox News, don't you?

So — Yes! That's it! For Christmas, I want you to do my Christmas shopping for me. Awesome, yes. Thank ye! Merry Christmas!


P.S. Oh hell, who am I kidding. Just give me a bigger penis.

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