Dear Santa,

I don’t have any requests for you. Putting together a list of things that will in all honesty, not bring me any real fulfillment seemed pointless and lost on me. Nope, this letter is ultimately meant as a sort of a giant middle finger to the type of capitalist excess you and your almost assuredly indentured slave elves represent. I don’t mean to “pissall over the years and years of amazing gifts that always happened to find their way underneath my tree, I am very thankful for all of those. Truthfully, the years of childlike wonder that would glaze over my eyes at the magic that is your legend have been washed away in a torrential flood of adulthood and crushing realizations of the bullshit money making scam you have propagated all these years. So in short.. Fuck you and the high red-nosed reindeer you rode in on. Though I doubt any animal rights activist would let you sit atop any species of animal for fear that your incredibly large ass would put it on the endangered species list.

wilford_brimley_poster_by_darthterry-d362700Also, the years and years of overindulging in cookies and sweets had to have riddled your body with a crippling sense of diabetes. If this is the case, then I hope Wilford Brimley has been placed on the Nice side of your list pretty consistently because he might be your only hope at this point. You might want to contact Wolverine to see how adamantium can be liquefied to a point as to coat it over your sleigh so you don’t fall thru the damn thing while you’re riding over the skies. Last thing anyone wants to see on the late night news is a jolly old fat man dive bombing the very kids he’s supposed to be delivering presents too.

Maybe I’m coming at this from a bit of a slanted perspective, and I apologize for taking it out on you Father Christmas. However, seeing as you’re the figurehead for this disgusting celebration of the dissemination of the meager money we’ve earned throughout the year to the fat cat corporate retailers, it makes sense for this to be aimed at you.

Do you even pay those elves you have chained up at your factory on the North pole? Do you feed them? I’m not talking about cookies and milk and candy, but an actual healthy and balanced meal. Somehow I doubt it. The spherical nature of your rather large belly would suggest that any food that is served goes straight down your gullet and yours alone.

I understand your myth and power belongs to the minds of the children who so blindly believe that you, in fact, exist. Excuse me for growing up or getting beat down by the pervasive pessimism of the real adult world, but I’m tired of people falling into the trap of your magical allure. If you’re so invested in the power to bring happiness to every manwoman and child in the form of small gifts, why only for one 24-hour period out of the year? Are you trying to tell us that is all we’re worth? That you’re benevolent gift giving nature is a privilege only to be indulged once out of the year? It seems that your modus operandi is to give us that small glimmer of hope only to take it away and shove us back into the painted box of everyday life. I suppose that I could also make a case for some type of global conspiracy between you, the Easter bunny and the tooth fairy as some sort of unholy triumvirate trying to monopolize and perhaps even mobilize an army of children hypnotized by your legend. Who knowsbut the truth is out there.

My faith in the holiday season has been shattered a very long time ago. A lot of the emotional wars I have fought and lost, a lot of the relativesfriends and family I have lost, a lot of my own personal pain and strife has taken place in or around the holiday that you seem to preside over. The magic that most people so easily cling to during this time I find repulsive and ugly. I suppose you could say it’s my own fault for letting it beat me down as much as it has, but don’t you find it funny that most of my painful memories I try to let go of come around YOUR holiday? Are you trying to clue me into your vague and nefarious plans for me? Or is it something greater? It could very well be that I’m the sacrificial lamb to the slaughter. That for so many others in this world to experience the kind of unbridled happiness you specialize in, I must be offered up the gods of emotional mutilation. If this is the case, I suppose it sort of changes things a bit.

There are people in my closest circles, who, despite my objections to your ability to do anything useful, still believe in you. I am not here to take that away from them. Some close recent friends of mine as well as newly extended family are very sick, and sure still believe in the type of sunshine only you supposedly could reign down during this holiday season. They need you entirely more than I ever will. They need you to give them the gift of life. Don’t waste your time on the likes of me. I’ve already lost the faith in the cheeriness of the next few weeks. You’d be fighting a losing battle.

If you still want to do anything for me despite these ramblings blasting you up and down, spread your magic to these people. Show them the hope that I lost long ago. That despite the war and famine and disease that seems more prevalent than ever, a fat man in a red suit still has the power to make everything right. That the myth of a magical being who can bring peace and happiness with the flip of a glove can still effect the type of change in someone who will give them the strength to keep fighting. Show them that hope and belief in something bigger than us are not relics of an ancient era of man in this new age of hate and pessimism.

Though you can never restore my belief in who you are and what you do, my friends and family and loved ones need you now more than ever.

And if you do this for me, maybe I’ll just leave out some whole milk this time instead of soy you fat fuck

Sincerely (maybe….)
Brodie Mann