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Dear Santa. I want stuff. Thank you.

December 6, 2015

How about a R2-D2 humidifier for a stocking stuffer?

Dear Santa,

Howdy.

My kids tease me about saying “howdy” because while I’m a Southerner, I’m not thatmuch a Southerner. You’re a Northerner, of course. How do you greet people at the North Pole? I’m guessing “howdy’ is out of place. More of a formal “hello” kind of deal? Yes, I’m stalling because it’s not my nature to jump right into asking for stuff.

I want tougher gun laws.

No, no, just kidding! I could use a new wallet. Mine is frayed. It’s a serious problem. I can’t expect to maintain my breakneck level of professional success with a weakened wallet.

I want an international climate deal.

Come on, fooled you again Santa! I’d really like a Mistletoe Drone. I saw one for $70 in the Hammacher Schlemmer catalog. This is the mistletoe that imparts whimsical cheer to holiday gatherings when hovered remotely over celebrants’ heads. Imagine flying that baby at the office party! For those of you whose office parties were discontinued because of the exorbitant cost to your multi-million dollar corporate owners, fly the drone on some random Friday at work. Imagine the festive sexual harassment lawsuits!

I want peace in Baltimore.

Sorry, I’m cracking myself up here. Seriously, I want WD-40 with a Smart Straw. I ran out. This is important. (P.S. I love that straw, so please make sure my new WD-40 has one. Thank you.)

I want anyone caught poaching an elephant or enjoying recreational lion hunting to serve time at Guantanamo.

Just a little wildlife slaughter humor there! Seriously, I want an R2-D2 humidifier just in time for the new “Star Wars.” Artoo also incorporates a night light to ensure a room does not slip over to the Dark Side. If you can throw in a Darth Vader Barbesaber for my next barbecue and maybe the Darth Vader Toaster that imprints “Star Wars” on each evil slice of bread, I promise not to ask for another thing, Santa.

I want peace in Syria.

Got you again! Who do you think I am—a holiday buzz kill? Santa, I got two words for you: plantar fasciitis. Nothing says holiday spirit more than plantar fasciitis. Peyton Manning has it. I have it (we have so much in common). Again look no further than Hammacher Schlemmer: Item #1: The Gentleman’s Plantar Fasciitis Herringbone Slippers. Item #2: The Plantar Fasciitis Insoles. Item #3: The Plantar “Twister” Game—for the sore of heel and young at heart (not featured in catalog).

I want comprehensive immigration reform.

Like a hole in the head!

OK, I’ll stop kidding around. Honest, I want a Charlie Brown Musical Christmas Tree authentically wrapped in Linus’ blanket. With that one ornament and sad little pine tree. Because like Linus, I know the real meaning of the holidays.

The real meaning is wanting and buying stuff from catalogs.

Everyone knows that.