A letter FROM Santa...

Dear person who has been “good” all year...

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

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

First, yes, I WAS a real person. Ever hear of St. Nicholas? Real guy.

Secondly — now I need you to sit there for a minute and listen. Can you do that? Listen? It means to put down your “networking” gadget, take your mouth out of fifth gear and pay attention, in case you’ve forgotten. Don’t worry, I’ll be finished soon and you’ll be back sending photos of that Fiesta Taco Salad you had for lunch to your 11,000 Facebook friends.

Pause for a second, and mentally list all the wonderful things you look forward to every year, at the Holiday Season. No, 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-heck-ever.

You know what I have to look forward to? Imagine a high-velocity cork of reindeer poo coming right at you. Think of a baseball pitching machine, set on “high,” shooting reindeer nuggets. Now imagine riding behind EIGHT of them.

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

Let me just say that by the time I’m over the Pacific Northwest I’m ready to hurl. 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.

And your gift lists... I mean, wow.

Why do I even bother? Black Friday KO’D me a long time ago. Don’t get me wrong, I 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? The magic bag wasn’t so heavy, then.

Yes, I understand, traditions get old. And your parents came from a generation of old world notions and sappy music.

I came from the era when people died at 25 from things like a rotten peach or an infected pimple. 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 you, and burn scented candles while you Wii.

And you call ME a fairytale. To be honest, modern life makes my era look like an old fairytale.

In closing... I’m 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/allthree 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. Sincerely, Santa Claus P.S. That’s “Claus,” not “Clause.” I’m not an addendum to a legal contract.