Letters retrieved by Alex Zaragoza, Ryan Bradford, Dave Maass, Nathan Dinsdale, Peter Holslin, Kelly Davis, Jim Ruland and John R. Lamb.
Subject: DONT LET OBAMA SURRENDER YULETIDE TO RADICAL MUSLIM CLERICS
Ninety-eight percent of American households will be jailed or worse for celebrating Christmas this year unless you fax every member of the U.S. Senate TODAY.
Barack HUSSEIN Obama plans to ram the Law of the Sea Treaty down the throats of the lame-duck Congress. This nefarious agreement would strip the U.S. of our rights to resources off of our coasts, including the floating ice mass known as the North Pole. Instead, presents—gifts American children earned by following the word of our Lord—will be handed over to the Islamist-sympathizers at the United Nations for redistribution to sworn enemies of Christ.
The treaty would also allow these same U.N. mullahs to enact global Sharia Law on all oceanrelated matters. Again, that would include any gift traffic in and out of the North Pole! If you dont act now, American girls and boys will wake up Christmas morning to discover only hijabs and plastic scimitars under the tree. Families that disobey could find themselves locked up or crucified on a tree in front of the Muslim Brotherhoods offices in Egypt.
Tell the U.S. Senate today not to let Barack HUSSEIN Obama surrender our national sovereignty. You can fax Senate Republicans for $69.95 or the entire Senate for $79.95. All major credit cards accepted.
In His name, Judge-elect Gary Kreep Executive Director Emeritus United States Justice Foundation
Hey Santa Girl,
Thanks for taking time out of your busy day to read my letter. Ill give you a long foot rub as you re-read A Room of Ones Own while taking a hot bath. I promise to use your favorite cookie-scented massage oil.
Santa Girl, I love that you dont give in to societys expectations of beauty. Your girth and wild facial hair keep me warm on the coldest of nights. While, to me, youre the sexiest person alive, I dont understand why I keep getting overlooked as the Sexiest Man Alive by People magazine. Are my abs not sculpted enough? Do I need to work on my smolder? I dont understand!
So, Santa Girl, I ask that you rub some of your sexy onto me and get me that title. I deserve it. You know it. I know it. And every woman, gay man and man who can appreciate sexiness in another man, without it being gay, knows it.
Your boo, Ryan Gosling
Give me a shot of Jameson with a Stella back, a Costco jar of ibuprofen, a seaweed wrap and some sort of hibernation capsule to chill out in for the next 36 months.
Hi how are you Im fine. Thanks. Also thanks for all my gold medals. They match my teeth now. Bling bling. Hahaha. I love swimming because of water and swimming fast but Im not good at talking stuff. I saw these learning computers. One of them was cool. It pointed to a cow and you pull a string and it would say The cow goes moo which is cool because thats how cows talk and I learned that. Can I get some of those learning computers so I can sound good and also like a cow? That would be awesome. Also, can you tell old women to stop touching me in my swimsuit area? It makes me feel funny.
You may be wondering, What more could the Most-loved entertainer on the planet want? And, yes, I dont require much. Hook me up with a menagerie of multicolored tuxedos and an ass to yell into and Im good to go. I guess anyone could use a more sexy la— KILL ALL AMERICANS!
Oops. Damn autocorrect. Anyway, the only thing I want for Christmas this year is an actual pony. Yeah, yeah, everybody loves the invisible-horse dance, but can you imagine riding through the countryside, wind through your hair, KILL YANKEES TORTURE AMERICAN SOLDIERS MAKE WAY FOR GLOBAL DOMINATION ALL HAIL PSY #GANGNAMSTYLE
Yeesh. Autocorrect again. My bad. So, yeah, a pony would be great. I would feed him haaaayyy (sexy lady) all day. Get it? KILL THEIR DAUGHERS, MOTHERS, DAUGHTERS AND FATHERS KILL THEM ALL SLOWLY AND PAINFULLY.
Greetings Mr. Kringle,
Its come to our attention that several urgent supply deliveries to your workshop have allegedly been disrupted allegedly due to malfunctions with our GPS app. Several UPS cargo planes have disappeared off the coast of Argentina, and an uncommon number of errant FedEx trucks have accumulated in St. John, N.D., and Christmas Valley, Ore. We vehemently deny any error on our part and refuse to offer a refund under any circumstances, but please accept a $3.87 credit to your iTunes account while we bide our time until the iPhone 6 is released.
Best, Apple Maps
Ever since I left office, I cant stop humming Simple Minds Dont You Forget About Me. I thought about holding a press conference, just for fun, but press releases look so blah without the city seal at the top.
Ive been watching Inception a lot (thanks for the DVD last year). Id like one of those machines they use to get into peoples dreams, plus instructions to go three levels down into Bob Filners subconscious and implant the idea that in April 2014, hes going to resign as mayor and attempt to kayak the Kinnickinnic river in Wisconsin. I know nothing about the Kinnickinnic, but itll be funny when he tries to pronounce it.
Id also like a copy of Homebrewing for Dummies. Prosperity Pilsner is my Plan B.
In service, Carl DeMaio
Can we get a mulligan on Prop. 8 already? Sure, we may back our way into a Supreme Court bailout, but even Minne-freaking-sota looks progressive in comparison right now. One word comes to mind when I think of a Pride parade in Duluth: frostbite.
Dear Honorable Mr. Santa Claus,
My friend, it has been too long! We have grown older, and hopefully wiser, since our first fateful encounter at the 1986 World Human Resources Association Conference in Tampa. You pulled me aside at the continental breakfast and said, Joseph, the question isnt How do I attract hard-working labor? Its How do I snatch them? So much I learned from your instruction!
You explained how you abducted elf-children from their tree nooks in the night, how through isolation in the Arctic wilderness you convinced them they were doing the Lords work. Give a man a fish, you feed him for a day. Teach him to brainwash a child soldier, you fuel his rebellion for decades.
It is with heavy heart and great anxiety that I write to you this day. Perhaps the Kony 2012 posters have made it as far north as your workshop, but if these American interferers make good on their pledges, my days are numbered.
All I want for Christmas is asylum. OK, that and South Park Season 14 on Blu-ray and a fleet of Predators. Konys drones. I like the sound of that.
Your servant, Joseph Kony Lords Resistance Army
Ive grown weary of Fernet, and theres only so much you can do with rye whiskey. St. Germain? Yawn. I want to introduce the craft-cocktail world to something new. Last night, three ingredients came to me in a dream: Malibu Rum, Chalupa sauce and Ovaltine. But I have no clue what to do with them. A recipe or two would be great. Just nothing involving Aperol—its so November 2012.
Thanks, Frank Galliano, Mixologist
Help me salvage whats left of my dignity and turn me into something respectable like glue or Alpo or the entrée at a Kazakhstani familys Christmas dinner. Its bad enough that I only have the third-best mane in the family.
Notice of potential litigation, Lynchester v. Santas Village LLC:
It doesnt have to come to this, St. Nicholas. We bought a North County newspaper this year just to spy on you! We dug into your background. Says here youre the patron saint for sailors, merchants, archers and thieves. Need I point out that I belong to a yacht club, sell myself like no other, skewer my foes with gusto and, well, lets just say I bought the title publisher for chocolate chump change.
To our point. We at Lynchester Inc. LLC LLP blame you for the rotten year weve had. Bad press. Bad election picks. Bad fashion sense. Wed blame the current president— the worst of all time—but weve determined that you have deep, velvety pockets.
You will hereby rectify this situation by selling us your shares of Santas Village and all commensurate North Pole properties. Our intent is to redevelop the site into a premier winter resort, dba Lynchester Village, complete with ice hotels; hot, calendar-quality room service; and Rudolphs, a four-star bistro featuring specialty meats. (Naturally, Lynchie prefers a sports complex, but I keep telling him the Chargers are a warm-weather team. What a kook!)
Dont make us come up there and commandeer Dancer and Vixen.
Douglas F. Manchester, John T. Lynch, U-T San Diego
Dear Mr. Santa Claus,
I refuse to propagate this chauvinist myth that only a man gets to decide what constitutes naughty and nice, that only little drummer boys can run pa pum pum, that jolly happy souls made of snow must be men even though they have no discernible genitalia. I reject your misogynist monopoly on gift-giving.
This holiday celebrates the labor of one person—a woman. Yet, today, the only woman in your operation is relegated to a role so subservient, shes not even worthy of a first name. How dare you?
I will not sit on your lap and tell you that Ive been a good little girl and what kind of dolly to bring me. I am the prime minister of bloody Australia, and I can choose my own present. All I want for Christmas is your chestnuts over an open fire.
Sincerely, Julia Gillard
I dont know what happened. Back in my day, pop culture was so much simpler. Limp Bizkit did it for the Nookie and nothing more. The only thing Savage Garden felt Truly Madly Deeply about was chicacherry cola. Britney Spears was a nice little virgin with a full head of hair.
Now, boys are running around in girls jeans, girls are wearing flannel and everybodys waving around those dang mp3 pods!
Back in October, they closed up the store for good and sent me packing. I feel like Im no use anymore. My Sony Discman is broken, my extra-baggy JNCO jeans have a hole in the seat and somebody stole my wallet even though I had a wallet chain. Do you know if AOL is hiring? Ive enclosed my résumé, just in case.
Best, Blake Evans Former assistant manager, Sam Goody, Horton Plaza
Please find my Christmas list attached.
A miniature, plastic Irwin Jacobs in an old-fashioned deep-sea-diver suit
Love, Balboa Park Koi Fish
Dear Mr. Claus,
Apologies for the mix-up last year—I thought it was a one-wish-list per household deal and, as you know, Ive got a lot of houses!
So, lets focus on my La Jolla pad this year, where Im going to be spending a lot of time thanks to you-know-who.
Thank you again for the super-neato car elevator. Im going ahead with the underwater submarine base and supersonic helijet I asked for last year—on my own dime.
Id like to keep these modifications out of the public eye as I prepare for my next career move. Heres where you come in. Whatever tech youre using on your sleigh to keep its movements a secret, Id like to install that at the La Jolla compound.
If thats too much, ask yourself this: What would Christmas be like without the Mormon Tabernacle Choir?
Think long and hard, fatso.
Sincerely, Mitt Romney
Just tell Captain Magic Underpants that I have a trash-can-dwelling, pipe-wielding malcontent and a crazy-eyed dude all hopped up on baked goods staking out his pad in La Jolla ready to deliver the word of the day.
Ive been a bad boy. Ive let down President Obama, Ive let down the country, and Ive let down my wife, Holly (no more enhanced interrogation role-play scenarios in the bedroom for me anymore, thats for sure). Ive also let you down, Santa, and Im sure youre going to use a Predator drone to blast a flaming lump of coal up my ass this year.
But I have one thing to ask for, and it isnt a bunch of 007 gadgets. This gift wouldnt be for me—its for everyone, especially the veterans in America and the people of Afghanistan, whove suffered long enough from this terrible war. What Im asking for, Santa, is a book deal. I want to set the record straight: I might not be able to keep my cruise missile in my pants, but Im not such a bad guy. (Besides, these lawyer fees are killing me.)
Oh, and maybe send the troops home, too.
Remorsefully, David Petraeus
Mary Mrs. Claus,
Listen, bitch. I dont know what kind of fruitcake game you think youre playing, but I had better not see you flaunting your Silicone snowballs anywhere near my Davey or, so help me, Ill stab you in the throat with a month-old candy cane.
Youve been warned, Paula Broadwell
Normally, I wouldnt write this letter because I find the concept of you laughable at best, but my m?o?m? girlfriend thinks I shouldnt be so negative all the time. But if I must indulge her moronic request so shell get off my back about getting a job, then fine: I want a new set of cogs for Christmas.
Dont expect me to explain our culture to a simpleton in a red suit. Let me just say that I will be seriously pissed if you give me a non-Victorian-era cog. When dealing with cogs, you get what you pay for. I cant tell you how many times Ive had a cheap knock-off get jammed with Dorito cheese or corroded from Monster energy drinks.
While were at it, I also want a t?o?p?l?e?s?s? signed picture of Lucy Lawless. And the Quantum Leap series. On Blu-ray. And friends. And [words smeared and illegible from what appears to be either sweat or tears].
Steampunk guy from Comic-Con
I want to punch you in the face so bad right now. Meet me by the car elevator after yacht practice and Ill have my man servant Frederick sock you right in your rosy cheeks with a roll of Spanish doubloons.
This is Elmo! Elmo is your friend! Elmo loves bringing happiness and hugs to all the boys and the girls in the world. They are Elmos best friends! But Elmos best best friend, Mr. Kevin Clash, had to go away. My other friends on Sesame Street asked me if Kevin Clash ever touched Elmo. They held up Grover and asked Elmo to point to where Kevin Clash touched Elmo. I showed them where Kevin Clash puts his hand in Elmo and they all started screaming: AHHHHHHH! Now they dont let Kevin Clash and Elmo play and be friends. Elmo just wants to make kids happy. Can Elmo still do that even if Kevin Clash has gone away? Thats what Elmo wants for Christmas.
I love you!
This movement has always belonged to you. Our ground game was the decisive factor in this campaign. It was you, KRIS, and your local NORTH POLE teams, canvasses, phone banks, ELF DRIVES and donations that helped change the face of American politics. But our work isnt over. Thats why Im asking you to contribute yet again. Today only, when you chip in $11 or more, well send you a limitededition Horses and Bayonets + Malarkey Obama-Biden bumper sticker. Because youve saved your payment information, your donation will go through immediately.
Jim Messina Campaign Manager Obama for America
These binders full of women I heard about during the election, I would like one. It would make my work so much more organized.
Kind regards, The Hillside Strangler
Give me a gun. A nice Glock 19. Anything to put me out of my misery. I beg the staff here to just let me die, but my pleas fall on deaf ears: Kill me buzz buzz buzz kill me kill me buzz buzz buzzzz. My insides are rotten—ghosts of past meals haunt me from within. Forgotten deli sandwiches, doughnuts, diet sodas and vegetarian meat (I know, right?) have made me unfit to live in this world, yet everyone just pretends Im not here.
Im a ghost. Its not suicide if Im already dead inside.