Dear Santa: I want

By now most everyone has their shopping done and gifts wrapped, or at least stuffed into a gift bag with sparkly paper surrounding it. And little ones have written letters to Santa.

In case Santa needs some help with a few of the more difficult cases, the not so little ones, we thought we’d give him a suggestion or two.

For Illinois Governor Rod Blagojevich: A thesaurus. From what we’ve been able to tell, he’s stuck on one particular adjective and it isn’t a very nice one.

For O.J. Simpson: Lots of reading material. He’s going to have plenty of time on his hands, so he could use some books on anger management, humility, and finding inner peace.

For Britney Spears: A gift certificate to a job training center so she can find something she really can do. Second choice: voice lessons.

For former President Bill Clinton: Violin lessons. He doesn’t seem to be the type who’d be satisfied playing second fiddle.

For President George W. Bush: Some nice argyle socks. He seems to attract shoes.

For Paris Hilton: Who, you say? You forgot her already? That’s what she needs most. That’s what we all need.

For Harrison Ford: My phone number!

Merry Christmas to everyone!

Who cares about a white Christmas?

With all due respect to Irving Berlin and Bing Crosby, what’s the big deal about a white Christmas? It’s over-rated.

As the song goes, “May your days be merry and bright, and may all your Christmases be white.”

I have no quarrel with merry and bright days. We all need those year around.

Somehow I gotta believe that neither Irving Berlin nor Bing Crosby ever drove in snow or ice. If they had, they’d never wish any kind of white weather event on anyone.

I don’t think the first Christmas was a white one, at least not if shepherds were outdoors at night watching sheep graze. There had to be some grass growing somewhere, and I don’t think the camels that the Wise Men rode in on were accustomed to snow.

So much for originality.

The Santa Claus legend places him in the North Pole, but he’s not inconvenienced by snow the way those of us who aren’t legends are. He has flying reindeer; who wouldn’t get out more if those were available to the average consumer?

No doubt Irving Berlin was going for a mood when he wrote “White Christmas” for the 1942 movie “Holiday Inn.”

But put me in snow, and I get a mood too. It isn’t a romantic mood of fluffy mounds of snow, sleigh bells, and hot chocolate by an open fire.

It’s more of a mood involving staying upright while navigating ice patches and snowdrifts, checking for broken bones and bruised ego when unsuccessful at navigating ice patches and snowdrifts.

There’s the need to shovel the stuff off the driveway and sidewalk risking cardiac arrest and the wrath of the Postal Service.

And shall we also mention people who think they can drive in snow? But these folks drive like idiots when the weather is good, so what do you expect? And those overconfident people with four-wheel drives don’t seem to realize that 4WD is useless on ice. Those SUVs slide just like someone on skates for the first time.

I can remember when snow was something to look forward to. Back then — WAY back then — snow meant staying home from school, snowball fights, building snowmen and coming inside for hot chocolate.

So if you’re dreaming of a white Christmas, wake up! I’d rather wish you a safe and happy Christmas on dry ground and safe streets and roads. And hot chocolate.

Christmas cards we'll never see

Unless you’re like a really organized friend of mine and sent out your Christmas cards Thanksgiving weekend, you’re probably addressing those cards now. Wouldn’t it be interesting to see some of the cards people in the news send and receive?

Here, with apologies to Hallmark and American Greetings, are Christmas cards we’re not likely to see.

For you, a merry Christmas
Is bound to be a given.
You worked so hard and all could see
Your campaign was so driven.

For me, I fear, this holiday
Is apt to be a bummer,
So here’s a card for you, Barack
From your friend, Joe the Plumber.

To the lower 49:
The time we shared was short and sweet
To leave you causes pain.
We likely would not have met at all
If not for John McCain.

We’ll have to wait till 2012
‘Fore I’ll be back to getcha.
So until then, so long my friend,
Happy holidays, you betcha!
Sarah Palin


Bill
If I had sat on Santa’s lap
And for him a list recited,
I would not be as I am now
So tickled and delighted.

We didn’t get the house of white
That we once did inhabit.
But fate gave me another prize
And you know full well I’ll grab it.

And so my dear for all your work
I really want to thank you.
‘Cause I’m still in retribution mode
And, my love, I still outrank you.
Hillary


To the Big Three
In years gone by I read your lists
Your wants were rather bold,
With seven-figure salaries and
Parachutes of gold.

I filled your stockings full of perks
Like limousines and jets.
Now Congress tells me you’re all jerks.
They’re hedging all their bets.

You guys are on my naughty list
Your heads are going to roll.
You guys may want a bailout;
From me you’re getting coal.
Santa