A letter from Kris

Dear Giftee... Dear person who has been "good" all year... tch.

I thought I would break tradition and send a letter to YOU for a change.

It's about time you knew a few things, foremost among them how Santa, yours truly, is getting a little green around the gills at being taken for granted lately.

Oh, I've always had that little complaint, but in the past few years it has really started to bug me, and now I need to get something off my chest. And I need you to sit there for a few minutes and just listen. Can you do that? Listen? It means to put down your damn "networking" gadget, take your mouth out of fifth gear and pay attention, in case you've forgotten. Don't worry, I'll be finished before your ADD kicks in and you're back sending photos of that Fiesta Taco Salad you had for lunch to your 11,000 Facebook friends.

Pause for just a second, and mentally list all the wonderful things you look forward to every year, at the Holiday Season. No, I don't give an elf's ass what religion you officially hate and feel an urge to remind everyone of it. I just mean whatever it is you like doing around this time of year; partying, shopping, hanging out with your family, the break from work, what-the-hell-ever.

You know what I have to look forward to? Can you imagine what a high-velocity cork of reindeer shit coming right at you is like? Think of a baseball pitching machine, set on "high-fast," shooting reindeer turds. Now imagine riding behind EIGHT of them.

I kid you not. You know what kind of metabolism a flying reindeer has? You realize how much a flying reindeer needs to eat? And how efficiently its body processes a pastey mixture of grain, grass and molasses??

Let me just say that by the time I'm just over the Pacific Northwest I'm ready to hurl. And the last thing I want to see when I get inside a house, is a big glass of room-tempurature milk, and a plate of stale snickerdoodles. I'm gagging right now just thinking about it.

It's a wonder I can sneak in and out the way I do, the smell alone must give me away for half a damn block.

And your gift lists... oh-gawd-take-me-now.

Why do you even bother. The Black Friday sales KO'd me a long, loooong time ago. Don't get me wrong, I so so sooo don't mind you taking some work off my back – ever wondered how hard it is to get a 67" flatscreen down a chimney? Oh, I can if I have to, sure. Yes, I'm magic and all that shit, but back when I got my magic, most people were whittling D-I-Y flutes and fiddles, and making mammy-jammy with their third cousins for entertainment.

The magic bag wasn't so heavy, then.

Yoohoo. Over here. No, let it ring. They'll call back if it's important. Or if it's irrelevant.

Just a moment more, then I'll let you get back to what ever it is you "do."

It occurs to me that you, and pretty much everyone else now, has come to take the Holidays as a time to "emo" out. To talk yourselves blue about "peace and joy," then turn the volume knob of your "belief system issues" up to ten.

Yes, I understand, traditions get old. And your parents came from a repressed generation of outdated notions and crappy music. And you're into something way better. On all fronts. Yay.

Let me tell you something. I came from the era when people died at 25 from things like a rotten peach or an infected pimple. In other words, Santa don't sweat the Spaghetti Monster, OK? You live in the age of electric blankets, automatic climate control, designer coffee and pre-bagged salad – that's why you have all this free time to be "Sky Wolf, the Enlightened One" and burn scented candles while you Wii.

Is that pink clamshell on your belt really a phone? Yeah, go ahead, grab it. Connect with your posse.

I'll just sit here and wonder why.

Wrong number? Oh, sorry. I know how much you love having that thing grafted to your ear, especially when you're doing something that requires your complete attention, like driving.

And you call ME a fairy-tale. To be honest, you're becoming pretty hard to believe in, too.

In closing... yes, it won't be long now. First I apologize for being allll-like yoo-know, harsh wid yo ass, know-whut-I'm-sayin? I was simply trying to air out a few things, not dump on your Merry. The Season really is what you make of it. I just get a little ticked when I see people who can only feel like they win by making other people lose.

Disagreeing with you doesn't make someone your target. And some people still derive inner peace, hope, strength – all that "old age" stuff, from embracing tradition. Complain to your spirit guide; maybe he/she/it/both/all-three will s'plain it to you.

Being as I'm usually a harmless passé symbol of Holiday gift-giving, and mainly just an overused presence in advertising and on greeting cards now, I assumed I could rattle off a few grievances without dousing your mood too much. Thanks for holding your breath.

Santa Claus

P.S. That's "Claus," not "Clause." I'm not an addendum to a legal contract.