Sorry I haven’t written to you these past couple of weeks but we had a slowdown in the rocking horse department in the Toy Shop here at the North Pole. One of the Elves fell off his rocker!!
OH- HO HO HO!
I love that joke…
But seriously Virginia you’d think it was Easter and not Christmas. Did you hear that several ***holes were trying to put the nails to my good friend Hank and his Christmas Show- A Chatty HANKmuss, that he MC’s at the Stubley Auditorium a week or so ago.
Goodness Virginia, those lovely Garage Door Players were only trying to have some fun, make a few bucks and pass along some of the proceeds to a local organization- Couchiching Jubilee House. I have hereby put the names of those atheist bastards in my big book of names under Naughty Freekin’ Naughty!
Ho Ho Ho!
Sorry ‘bout the language Dear but Santa’s balls are really twisted in a knot over that one.
Then, my Darling Virginia, there’s the little matter of those Pagans dancing around a fire on the Winter Solstice, smack dab in the centre of the season- stripped to the bone…well the gentlemen at least. Why can’t they just head to the mall and shop ‘till they drop like every other Canadian or take a tablet from the Roman’s Book and throw a few unnecessary people to the lions- starting with those ***holes I mentioned above?
So many questions my Dear Virginia- and just as a sidebar, do you know why that Stephen Harper is still Prime Minister? For Santa truly does not. In fact this whole wonderful Country of Canada- which has always been Santa’s favourite, is moving more right than a Gay whore trying to find a hole in the dark!
No Matter My Dear. I really must get back to the Elves or they’ll be talking another non-union Coffee Break. Oh- Mrs. Claus and I are going out to a movie tonight. We hear Hugh Jackman is showing his hairy hieney in his latest film and we both want to see that in wide screen.
Write when you can Virginia.
Your friend,
Santa.
Dear Santa,
Don’t you know I’m a Presbyterian and I shouldn't hear swear words like ***hole because they might warp my mind. Of course, it’s no worse than the stories my Uncle Nuddly told my brother Bobby about Catholic Priests and Altar Boys when he gave him a bubble bath! Did I tell you Bobby now lives in the Church/Wellesley Village, works at Priappe and pole dances at “Sailor”?
Another time perhaps…
Yes, Santa, it is a shame that that some people need to slime others. In fact I know that those men didn’t even have the kahunas to sign their own real names. I've herad some people say they need to have something rough and rusty shoved where the sun don’t shine and see if they think that’s amusing- or intelligent at least.
As for the Pagans and their dancing naked in the winter moonlight- my brother Bobby- although not a Pagan to my knowledge, used to do that every Holiday Season with his friend Roger. After a few shots of Vodka they’d strip to the buff, wrap some tinsel around their “continental shelves” then hang a ball or two on their…ummm…thingies and roll around in the flakey softness while singing- “Joy to the World” at the top of their lungs. Santa, you must promise me that you will never ever tell Bobby what I just told you. I mean, I mean...well, just don't- Okay?
As for Mr. Harper, all I know is my Minister says he’s the Devil’s Child and she says soon he’ll be having us all drop to our knees and kiss his bunions. Whatever that means. She also says Justin Trudeau is our only hope- even though he wears pelts to keep him and his family warm instead of buying coats sewn from man-made materials and assembled in China like the rest of us.
So Santa, I have to wrap some gifts now and bake some shortbread cookies. I’ll leave you a half dozen on the sideboard in the dining room come Christmas Eve.
Your friend,
Virginia
