Letters to Santa, Intercepted
Here at PurplePTSD World Headquarters, there was quite a furor recently when the folks in the mailroom down on eighth floor discovered something highly suspicious.
A rather large sack of cards and letters was discovered among our weekly flood of fan mail and overdue bills. Each item was addressed to the same address: Santa Claus, North Pole. My buddy Chazz down in the mailroom let this news slip one day last week and I got curious. Now, the legal team has advised me to express a disclaimer here in the first paragraph, so let’s be clear: I do not condone tampering with the U.S. Mail, nor do I admit to having done so myself.
But, as a professional journalist, I couldn’t help but wander, after hours, in the near vicinity of this particular sack of cards and letters, and just sort of lean over the top and take a peak at the contents, and it’s hard to say what sort of natural movement that occurred right at that time might have caused this sack to tumble off of the counter from which it laid.
However, let’s just say that all of those cards and letters just fell all over the floor, and I couldn’t in good conscience just leave them there, so I picked them up and was startled to find many of the envelopes had somehow opened up during their fall, and now they were exposed to the world—something I as law-abiding American citizen was concerned about, knowing that some more nefarious sort would now be able to pry into these private individual’s personal expression.
Now, when I noticed that all of these letters were not only addressed to Santa, but that the time it would take to a) deliver them to the North Pole, b) have a very busy Santa read and respond to each one, and then c) journey through what can be a very slow return-mail trip back to the original sender would completely miss the December 25 delivery window, I felt obligated to do something about it.
So, I did what any concerned citizen would do – I took the sack of letters back to my office up on 21 and dumped them out on my desk, and began answering each one myself, as I’m sure Santa would have wanted me to do. I now feel obliged to share them with you, the general public, on the Internet, the one safe place for sharing personal documents without repercussion. Here is a sampling:
Letters to Santa
Dear Santa: This year for Christmas I would like a shiny new Achilles tendon. My friend Aaron is going to ask for the same thing. I know he is. I think you should know he has been very naughty this year, so I don’t think you should bring one to him. Maybe give him a leftover tendon from the turkey Mrs. Claus made you for Thanksgiving? Oh, and I also want a big fat contract next year. Thank you very much.
Signed, your biggest fan, Kirk. Rosemount, MN
Dear Kirk: Thank you for alerting me about Aaron’s naughty side. I, of course, knew about this from watching Jeopardy, so I’ll try that turkey idea. As for you, I think I can arrange the Achilles thing, but maybe you should expect a smaller contract for 2024. You don’t want your friend Justin to feel bad, do you? And Santa doesn’t like to hear about greedy children. Just think about it.
Signed, your pal, Santa.
Dear Santa: I hope you had a good summer. Do you play golf? I hope you do, and I hope you got your bestest, lowest score ever this summer. You’re the smartest guy I know so I thought I’d ask you about a problem I have. Is it possible to be too nice? When my friends get together to play football, whenever it’s their turn to have the ball they always want to give it to the other team. They can’t score touchdowns if they give the ball away. What should I do? You don’t even have to bring me presents this year if you can just help me.
Signed, Kevin, Eagan, MN.
Dear Kevin: Maybe you’re the one being too nice? You just tell those boys, in no uncertain terms, if they don’t hang onto the $#&!ing football, maybe they shouldn’t get to play at all anymore. And while you’re at it, tell them to quit $#&!ing around when they run the quarterback sneak–what the $#&! are they doing, repeatedly $#&!ing butchering a play all the other kids can run in their sleep? It was just a few $#&!ing inches—what the $#&!????
Signed, your pal, Santa.
* * * * *
Dear Santa: This year for Christmas I would like a new cornerback. I’m worried that the ones I have now are going to make our team lose important games. I really want to beat the Vikings and they have a really good wide receiver who scares me. I don’t want to be scared anymore. Can you please, please, please bring me a new cornerback?
Signed, Danny C., Detroit, MI
Dear Danny: Getting the present you asked for at Christmas might feel like a way to stop being scared, but you’ll just be burying your real feelings. Santa thinks you need to face your fears. Santa thinks you just need to watch that receiver who scares you absolutely torch the cornerbacks you already have. It won’t feel good, but you’ll survive.
Then you need to watch those same cornerbacks get absolutely torched again in a couple of weeks. Maybe even a third time, in the playoffs, you might have to watch them get absolutely torched. It might hurt, a lot, but you’ll thank me when you’re older for not giving you what you want. Maybe Santa will bring you a ducky or a horsy instead.
Signed, your pal, Santa.
P.S. I suppose maybe, just maybe, if you’re very good, I’ll stuff C.J. Gardner-Johnson into your stocking.
* * * * *
Dear Santa: My name is Billy. I’m seven years old and the world’s biggest Packers fan. I just love them! I’m too young to remember Bart Starr or Brett Favre or even Aaron Rodgers bringing us a Super Bowl win, so for Christmas this year I would like you to make Jordan Love and the Packers play so well that they can win one too. I’d be so happy!! I know you’re busy, so if that’s too hard can I just have a million dollars? Preferably in tens and twenties.
Signed, Billy, Green Bay, WI.
Dear Billy: I’ll leave the cash by the cookie plate.
Signed, your pal, Santa.
* * * * *
Dear Santa: My girlfriend and I have been together all season. It’s been great, but I just don’t see her as my forever girl. I’m afraid to tell her the truth because then she’ll write a scathing breakup song about me and I don’t think I could stand the humiliation. Plus I’d probably lose all my endorsement deals and maybe my mom too. For Christmas this year, could I have some sort of anti-love potion that I could slip in her Campbell’s Chunky Chicken Soup, so that she’d just break up with me first?
Signed, Travis, Kansas City, MO
Dear Travis: What, do I look like Professor Dumbledore to you? I do? Well, that’s not the point. I don’t do love potions or anti-love potions. You’re on your own, kid.
Signed, your pal, Santa.
* * * * *
Dear Santa: My name is Jimmy Harbaugh and I have a long list of things I want for Christmas this year. I’d like a job interview with the San Diego Chargers. I’d like a lot of publicity about that interview. I’d like the University of Michigan to overreact to rumors about said interview and offer me a huge extension.
I’d like the accusations of recruiting violations that hang over my head to go away. And I want a National Championship. Oh, and a new garage so I have somewhere big to store my ego. I have enclosed a signed 8’10” photo and a small bribe. I hope that meets your expectations, and would appreciate your discretion on this matter. Thank you, Mr. Claus.
“Sincerely”, Jimmy, Ann Arbor, MI
Dear Jimmy: Santa can’t be bought, and besides I can’t cash the check without proper identification. Your name is definitely on my “naughty” list this year (like it is each and every year) just for being such an arrogant blowhard, so I can’t help you with your requests, but I’ll be sure to bring you some lumps of coal this Christmas. You’ll need that new garage to store it all. Everyone outside of the state of Michigan hates you and everything you stand for, including me, Mrs. Claus, and all of the elves and reindeer up at the North Pole.
Signed, your pal, Santa.
P.S. I’m glad you didn’t get the Vikings job last year, you obnoxious lout.
* * * * *
Dear Santa: I am a huge Vikings fan, and this year I’d like a Super Bowl win for my favorite team. Just this once?
Signed, Tommy, Minneapolis, MN.
Dear Tommy: Don’t think I didn’t recognize this letter, you’ve sent it to me each of the last 50 years. Plus, I’m the one who wrote it. How can I be the sender and the recipient of the same letter to Santa? Perhaps this is a conundrum so mind-boggling that it will rip a hole in the space-time continuum. And perhaps that will be the impetus for the biggest surprise ending to an NFL season in all of history—with the Vikings winning the Super Bowl! Or, maybe we both know that this will never happen. Keep the faith, Tommy.
Signed, your pal, Santa.
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Merry Christmas, PurplePTSD readers. May all of your Christmases be Purple. Except for this one, which the Vikings have announced will be totally white. Peace and joy to you and yours this holiday season, however you may celebrate.
Signed, your pal, @TomWoldum.
Kwesi Crushed It