Please stop asking me when you'll get my Christmas card this year. The answer is "YOU'RE NOT!"
I'm sorry to shout, but I don't have the time or energy to buy real Christmas cards, or to stamp them, or to mail them, or to choose e-cards, or to take a picture of my young son and / or daughter and put them in a Santa hat, or whatever you people do these days. I'm trying to start losing touch here, okay?
What I do have time for is a blog post in which you can search for your name and see if you would be receiving a Christmas card, if I were to do such plebeian things. You can also read what I would say to you this holiday season. This includes my wishes for the new year, because honestly, who knows when I'll write again. I have so much else to do. Like . . . never mind what like. Just, stuff.
I encourage most of you not to go searching for your name unless you want your hearts broken. Reading further is probably a futile effort, as I've almost certainly started to forget you as a person, even at the holidays.
But on you go . . .
The Boston Phoenix: I would like to vote for myself as Man of the Year for 2010. Merry Christmas!
Time Magazine: I would like to vote for myself as Man of the Year for 2010. Merry Christmas!
Highlights Magazine: I would like you to institute a Man of the Year poll, and I'd like to win it for 2010. Merry Christmas, kids!
To the dozens of organizations that email me hourly asking me to sign this petition or call this representative or come to this emergency meeting or freak out about tomorrow because if I don't then wolves won't have civil rights in two years: here's $4 so we can keep Christmas.
President Obama: Thank you for extending tax cuts for the mega-wealthy. I want them in place when I get my first billion. Happy Ramadan! (That's now, right?)
To the Boston school board: Thank you for proving that democracy doesn't work. рождество!
To the outgoing Democrats: Thank you for proving that democracy doesn't work. 圣诞节快乐!
To the incoming Republicans: Thank you for proving that democracy doesn't work. Hilaris Sarcalogos!
To jets, cars, factories, and sheep : Thank you for our unusually warm summer and deep-freeze weather in the Midwest and Europe. Happy flying, driving, emitting, and farting!
And on a more personal note:
The man who was rapping loudly on the train: People don't think you're awesome. They think you're mentally ill. Merry Christmas!
To the guy in "The Crying Game:" Please don't turn out to be a woman. Happy Holidays!
To the man who was collecting money in a Santa suit at the corner of Mass Ave and Melnea Cass under pretense of being poor: How did you get a Santa suit? Merry Christmas!
To the annoying orange: You are a group. You can't get fans. Moron.
To my 47 "like"-ers: Your reward is in Heaven, and your ranks shall soon be great. (I think that's from the Bible. That or I made it up.)
To everyone I've forgotten: I forgot you on purpose. Should Old Acquaintance be forgot . . . sing along . . . and never brought to mind . . . Happy New Year! Good luck riding someone else's coattails in 2011!