Friday, October 17, 2008

by numbsanta

Dear Santa Claus,
I’m a 12 year old kid. All my friends have started going through puberty already and are developing normally, y’know broader shoulders, deeper voices, and signs of facial hair. Most noticeable is their penises. They’re huge! I have none of these things. My shoulders are looking even smaller because I seem to be getting more baby fat in the upper body, My voice is the same, no facial hair and my penis is still just a little nubbin. What’s wrong with me? Why don’t I develop like the other kids? All I want for Christmas is a big long schlong.


Dear Jennifer,
I have some bad news for you. It seems you have a congenital birth defect. You are what doctors refer to as a female. You will never develop a big long schlong. However I can bring you one. You just can’t keep it because it’s attached to a hairy patch just below my navel.

Dear Santa Claus,
The following is a partial list of what I’m expecting under the tree on Christmas morning. Don’t let me down Santa, my father owns Exxon, He’s one of the richest most powerful men in the world so if I don’t get what I want…ha ha ha I don’t think I need to say anything more. Here’s the list:
A Hummer
A Yacht (the biggest)
A Leer Jet
A Lamberghini (yellow)
I need all that stuff by no later than the 25th ‘cause I got a date with this totally hot babe and I think it’ll be really impressive when she shows up at my house and sees all that stuff in the driveway. Well don’t just stand there you old geezer, get to work! and don’t bother reading little Billy’s letter, this is more important! Move!

Corbritt Bonassus III

Dear Master Bone Asses,
I’m very sorry but due to the cost of fuel this year Santa Claus can no longer provide his usual service and Christmas is declaring bankruptcy. And just a thought, if you want to impress a girl you might wanna try buying something for her, and I hope it’s expensive because you won’t win her over with your charming personality.


Dear Santa,
I want a Realistic War Game® where I can be right in the middle of the action so I can feel like I’m really killing terrorists and being a War Hero® just like my big brother who’s over there fighting the war right now. We haven’t heard from him for a couple of months but Dad say’s that’s cause he’s involved in a Top Secret Mission®.

Sincerely, Johnny®

Dear Johnny,
Santa’s got a treat for you! You’re going to have the most realistic war game adventure ever! I’ve arranged to have you spend two years in Realistic Action War Camp®! You’ll be flown to Iraq and be given a Realistic Looking Weapon®! You can get to see your brother in a Real Body Bag® and watch other kids just like you actually Getting Killed!® You’ll come back from camp changed—a Real War Hero®—with your Legs Blown Off®! You’ll have Real Anger Issues® and Post Traumatic Stress®! You’ll get to stay in a Real Veterans Hospital® and get all the benefits Mr. Bush wants you to have! Merry Christmas Johnny! Glad I could make all your dreams come true!


Dear Santa,
If you are reading this then you must really exist, in which case you can disregard this letter whose purpose is to determine if you really exist or not. If you do not really exist please tell me so by returning the enclosed SASE to me.


Dear Weirdo,
If you are in receipt of this it is because I don’t exist in which case you could not be in receipt of this unless you don’t exist either and we are communicating on a non-existence level which is entirely possible since non-existence does not exist therefore all the rules go out the window and then you might as well believe in Santa Claus.
Does that answer your question you little smart ass?

And BTW leave the tooth fairy out of this because I’ve got the quarters to prove he’s real


Yo Yo Yo Santa, Wussup foo’ I’m hookin’ you up wit dis Chrizzismas Lizzist so y’all know what kinda blingage to put awl up under my tree, Y’dig? So dis is da shizzizzny:

A big ol’ crack rock
A C-note werf a blow
Some buds o’ some killah kush
A pair a bad-ass kicks
A Digital Electron Scan Micrometer

Peace out, Bone Slamma

Dear Mr. Slamma,
I can hook you up with all the items you requested. But there’s one that seems a little inconsistent with the rest of your list. Why in the world do you want a pair of kicks?


Dearest Santa,
I am a transient indigent from an underclass family in an impoverished third world nation on the western hemisphere. Due to my father’s employer’s failure to adequately compensate him in the form of monetary remuneration for his interminable toiling at a corporate manufacturing facility, my paternal progenitor has been, as of yet, unable to provide his malnourished, poverty-stricken family with a single Christmas accouterment. It would mean the world to us if you could find it in your heart to bestow upon us but a single token of your sympathy for our predicament in the form of a Christmas gift, preferably wrapped in cheery Christmas-theme paper and tied with a ribbon and a bow.
This gesture on your part might revivify our faith in humanity and give us a reason to live yet another miserable day of this downtrodden existence we currently enjoy.

Thank you, in advance, for your kind and thoughtful consideration of my request. May the best of all things come to you and your loved ones during this season and from now until eternity.

Sincerely, Augustus Champhorwolfe Carrerra III

Dear Gus,
What the hell are you talking about dude? Not all of us can afford the education it would take to read, much less write, a pompous letter like that. Can you put that in laymen’s terms you pedantic freak?

by numbsanta


Anonymous said...

Did you know that women can never equal man as long as they dont walk up the street with a beer gut and balding head and still think they are gods gift to sex!!!!!!!!!

numbsain said...

You're preaching to the perverted, my friend. I find nothing more repulsive than the double standard our society has for attractiveness in the sexes. Stupid, classless, boorish, dumpy, obese men who ridicule their beautiful wives for being one pound heavier than the ridiculous BMI says they should be, for being overweight and making them feel insecure about their looks when these piggish men aren't good enough to lick the toilet seat their wives sit on. I blame that wrinkle-factory shitheel exploiter of-half-the-population Hugh Hefner for single handerdly lowering the self esteem of women in the world and hold him responsible for the epidemics of bulemia, anorexia, and surgical augmentation which is an insult to nature and God herself. My humor is meant to expose the hypocrasy of the christian mail dominated society that is a blight on all of humanity! Don't get me started...uh, again?

numbsain said...

Sorry about the typos and misspellings, I just get sloppy when I'm on a rampage about a subject that really #$%@^%&s my &@#!%*#.



(and not 'cause they're meek)

Anonymous said...

Love you man, your such a crack!

numbsain said...

A crack? Well I was hoping for crevasse or a chasm but a crack is a start.