Christmas Rant: Letter To The Fat Man
This is also an addition to my series on Christmas. I figured so many other bloggers were doing this, I had to jump on the bandwagon – or jackwagon as the case may be – and offer up my own awesomely-ranty wish list to the world’s most beloved yet nonexistent risk of heart attack and stroke there is. Without further ado:
Dear Fat Ass,
I haven’t written you in years, but I figured that this year has been so bizarre that I’d take a chance and go with it, because hey – you never know. You’ll be relieved to know I’ve left using the Sears catalog toy section behind in constructing this, but then again, as a person who wears big pants now, my list is a bit different in terms of character. Here we go:
Favorable Resolution to The War on Terror – You really could come off more statesmanlike than the President if you can manage this one. On the plus side, I could then probably stay home and continue entertaining folks with my blog on a more regular basis. As much as I love the idea of going back to Afghanistan and earning my bones (as they say in the Mafia), it’s still Afghanistan. Barring this, can we arrange for the next major operation to go down in Tahiti, the Caribbean, or maybe Ibiza?
Presidential Candidate with a Clue – for the love of all things dear, please figure out a way to make this happen. Based on all the available retards blowing hot air right now, next year looks a lot like throwing a dart at a dartboard in terms of voting. It makes me throw up a little in the back of my throat that we’re choosing the least-worst person these days. I’d point out that the U.S. is probably your biggest supporter, so ongoing and sane leadership down here is to your advantage too.
A Woodshop – You’re not the only fat dude who likes woodworking. On the theory of ‘aim high, hit high,’ I’m going whole-hog and basically requesting one of two things: A) Norm Abram’s complete wood shop, or B) An exact replica, down to every last glue brush and clamp block. I was about to ask for this but make it retroactive by twenty years in the past, but I figure even you have your magical limits. Oh, if you want to put this one outside, that’s fine. I’ll understand completely and it will save me lugging all that shit out of my living room.
Talent – A lot of folks seem to enjoy my rantiness here, but even a cave man like me realizes that it doesn’t take a lot of talent to bitch and moan creatively. At some point I’m going to have to earn money outside of the Army, and writing would be good. If it’s a toss-up between this and the woodshop, though, please leave the shop. However, if this is also availble, bring it on. Do not make me write like Nicholas Sparks.
That’s about it. Enjoy trying to stuff that shit down my narrow-ass chimney (exceptions noted). I’m leaving no cookies because apparently like me, you have a portion control issue. Also, I will power down my home defense systems between 0100 and 0300 to facilitate your delivery. You may have avoided the Air Force but this Tanker does not fuck around.
Although these lists used to work pretty well 35 years or so ago, I’m not holding my breath this year. It was worth the try though.