LETTERS TO SANTA
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.

Jennifer

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.

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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.

Guirro

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

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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

Fashion Faux Paws—Road Kill: All the Rage!

numbsain presents


Howdy Holler-Day Shoppers!
I'm Jiblitz!
And I'm Gravy!
We're Grablitz and Jibbly er, Jablitz and Gribbly... (Jam it Grablitz!)

Jiblitz: And today we're here to stand up and make ya Holler-days about a squa-jillion times easier with some blew-it-yer-self,
ex-mess gift eye-deers that'll git them li'l plate-lickers so excited they'll pee in their poop-jay's and just start ricky-shayin' off the walls like bumblebees in a nuke-ro-wave oven!

Gravy: Ooh-weevils, Taint no bow to doubt it, Jib, and it ain't gonna cost ya a hot squat on a porty-pot neither. Cuz we manufabricate everything outta common extra-ordin-every-day items.

Jiblitz: You shed a mouseful there, Gravy', Santa's little heifers ain't got skaddle on us.

Gravy: Today we're gwine to show-n'-tell ya how ta make a fashion mistake-ment outta unlucky jaywalkin' varmints who, through no asphalt o' their own, wound up squarshed under the wheel o' misfortune while trying to live life in the oncoming lane. Ahm talkin' about "Road-kill" "Tread Leather" "Pavement Patch Pets."

Jiblitz: I wish we could say: "No animals were harmed in the makin' of these products" but
in fact, they're 100% harmed animals! Hyuk Hyuk!

Gravy: Only the strong survive and the meek shall be imbedded in the earth! it's all part o' natural see-lection on Jiblitz and Gravy's Wild Kingdom!

Jiblitz: Brp brp brp brrrrrr-drp, Brp brp brp brp, br-drp...

Gravy: Besides, they don't feel pain the way we do...I mean, It hurts but it's a good kind o' hurt. Now did ya scrape us up some street-thins, Jib?

Jiblitz: Ah squirtin'ly did! Just feast yer thighs on this corn-u-copious distortment of asphalt huggers, pat as a flan-cake and stiffened in the noon-day-sun since Sunday noon. Here's a blob-cat, a spread eagle, Looky here! This skunk still gots every hair, but flatter!

Gravy: Flattery will git you every hair!

Jiblitz: Aw... Gawd-Blangit, Gravy! It's McNuggets! She was a damn good layer...

Gravy: She's a thin layer now.

Jiblitz: Now WHY did that chicken cross the road?

Gravy: This is no time fer joking, Jiblitz. Here's a little finch, hot off the grill...

Jiblitz: This is no time fer dinner, Gravy.

Gravy: I meant the grill o' my truck. Whattaya think was the last thing that went through his mind?

Jiblitz: His asshole...

Gravy: You kiss yer cousin with that mouth?

Jiblitz: Only if she's wearin' one o' these!

Gravy: And PRESS-TOE! the Beaver Cleavage Bra!

Jiblitz: And we done it in no time ‘flat.’ Hey Gravy! Lookit what else ah made!

Gravy: Whoa! PERVALERT! Put yer trousers back on Jiblitz!

Jiblitz: Does this cat make mah ass look fat?

Gravy: Spank cod we're outta time

WE'RE JIBLITZ & GRAVY! WE'RE INBREDNECKS BUT AT LEAST WE'RE NOT RELATED!

MERRY FELIZCHRISTMASHANNUKWANZAA an' a Happy Añonuevo-Tet-Passover-Lent-Ramadan...
Jiblitz: Did we leave anybody out?

Gravy: I hope not Jib, ya can't have whirled peas unless ya get 'em all whirled in.

Jiblitz and Gravy was brought to you by
Mystery Meat Jerky Surprise® and
The Law Offices of Gowen, Gowen, Gowen, & Gawn and by
Ostracizer Food Resuscitator ...Bringing food back to life!

NUMBSAIN'S IRATE CHRISTMAS CAROLS

Yellow Snow, Yellow Snow, Yellow Snow!
Sung to the tune of "Let it snow, Let it snow, Let it snow!"

Oh the pressure is getting stronger,
Can't hold it too much longer.
If I can't find any place to go
Yellow Snow, Yellow Snow, Yellow Snow!

Oh the question right now is whether...
I can keep my knees together...
Till I find some place to go...
Yellow Snow, Yellow Snow, Yellow Snow!

Well I guess I drank too much beer...
So just stop by the side of the road.
Or I might have to go right here;
my bladder's about to explode.

I can feel myself start to weaken
I think I might be leakin'
I need to find a place to go...
Yellow Snow, Yellow Snow, Yellow Snow!



Santa Claus Ain't Coming to Town
sung to the tune of "Santa Claus IS Coming to Town"

You needn't watch out,
You might as well cry,
I'm not kissing all my money goodbye,
Santa Claus Ain't Coming to Town.

The corp'rate ripoffs...
Ain't gettin' a dime.
Ain't spending all my money this time,
Santa Claus Ain't Coming to Town.

It's not about religion, a holy day, indeed,
They use our kids to guilt trip us and to satisfy their greed.

This holiday crap...
Is all a big scam.
And frankly my dear, I don't give a damn.
Santa Claus Ain't Coming to Town.



Driving Like You Have the Right of Way
Sung to the tune of "Walking in a Winter Wonderland"

On the phone going 80... in your shiny new Mercedes,
Pedestrians run... you just hit one,
Driving like you have the right of way.

Almost cause... a collision...cause you're watching television,
You rear end a cop... don't even stop...
Driving like you have the right of way.

Someones turning left on a green arrow,
You don't even have the right of way,
But your tunnel vision is so narrow,
You go first and think that it's okay.

In your car... at the market... looking for a place to park it,
Though spaces are few, you straddle two,
Driving like you have the right of way.