Dear Santa,
It’s Christmas time once again, the streets are trimmed with tinsel and lights, the children are laughing and making their lists. Grandma and Grandpa are making their home made hot chocolate in both kid friendly and “Grandpa’s Snoring Medicine” versions. The babies are discovering for the first time the joys of Rankin and Bass Christmas specials while candy canes poke from their mouths. Their sticky fingers leaving prints on the glass table. Aunts and Uncles are preparing wonderful festive side dishes to bring to the big family feast. In the meantime the most succulent turkey is filling the kitchen with smells of tradition, and Christmas past, and hope of the coming year. Mom is wearing her Christmas apron which is dusted from flour of a thousand cookies that are cooling by the sink. She laughs at the mess of bowls with left over cookie dough stuck to the side, and licked clean spatulas, whisks, and measuring cups scattered to and fro. The sounds of holiday music fill the air, both timeless and familiar, where everyone knows the words to every song.
I sit in my favorite chair with my favorite pipe, and hand stroking my chin, looking at the joyous abundance of family and friends. I reflect on this Christmas and Christmas of past, and come to this very profound and very true realization:
Santa…
You’re a dick!
I mean who do you think you are?! I worked and sweated and paid for all of this shit…and YOU get the credit?! What the hell?? Seriously! You have done jack shit except hock Cola products and wave in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade with your glued on beard half falling off. In the meantime I have stressed and slaved to bring everyone, everything their little greedy hearts desired, despite the fact that December’s bills don’t go away. Why do I have to do this? Because you, my mythical non-existing friend, with your tales of god damn Christmas miracles have deemed it. Yet you don’t contribute one red cent to this incredible unrealistic pipe dream you have bestowed upon my children! Thanks fat man for that! Now I’m spending my lunch breaks eating only carrot sticks in order to be able to afford that $400 bike Little Timmy has always wanted because he “believes in you”!
My favorite is come Christmas morning, after 3 months of scraping and planning, which only lasts for about 10 minutes by the way, is how everyone thanks YOU!
Thank you Santa.
YOU. DID. NOTHING!
I did EVERYTHING!
I understand I gave you the credit since the beginning of my children’s verbal understanding of all things, but that is kind of been forced on me by society. It’s really a vicious cycle that has been going on for god knows how long…
Santa you’re a dick!
I could rant on and on, but instead I composed this song.
It’s called: Santa You’re A Dick
(Sung in the key of G*)
Santa, You’re A Dick You get all the credit You prick I spend the moneys You get the honeys And your red suit Makes me sick Chorus: Santa, Santa, You’re A Dick Dick, Dick, Dick, Dick, Dick Dicky, Dicky, Dick, Dick, Dick Because Santa You’re A Dick! The Bridge: I slave and I save And my children don’t appreciate it They don’t understand my sacrifice All they know come Christmas morn Is all the presents wrapped up nice Chorus: Santa, Santa, You’re A Dick Dick, Dick, Dick, Dick, Dick Dicky, Dicky, Dick, Dick, Dick Because Santa You’re A Dick! (guitar solo) (drum solo) (bullroarer solo) Your story makes no sense With reindeer, trees, and ribbons And a Jewish dentist Which I don’t get in my defense So shove off dear Santa Don’t shed a tear I’m taking the credit This year Chorus: Santa, Santa, You’re A Dick Dick, Dick, Dick, Dick, Dick Dicky, Dicky, Dick, Dick, Dick Because Santa You’re A Dick!** This will be performed by Willie Nelson and the ghost of Michael Jackson and released on Bitter Records.
Christopher De Voss 
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