Just finished reading your new book about keeping me in Christmas, Sarah, but to be honest, I'd rather you left me out of it from now on. Thanks to you and your friends, I don't even know what it's about anymore. All I know is that it's my birthday and I'm depressed. So count me out. Just call it Mas or something.
For starters, I'm not wild about how you keep using the word "war" in the same phrase as the word "Christmas." It's kind of a turn-off for me, Sarah, given the whole "peace on earth, good will to men" thing.
That's bad enough but then you go to church packing concealed weapons and sing the same Peace on Earth hymns. Try coming up with a believable excuse for that one when you get to the Pearly Gates, not that we're expecting you.
The charming seasonal racism doesn't thrill me either. Why in God's name (sorry, Dad) is your friend Megyn Kelly so obsessed with the color of my skin? Would she name her son Jesus? Probably not, but her gardener might. If I suddenly appeared on a street in Phoenix, I'd get slammed against the hood of a police car and ordered to produce my green card.
Then I'd be deported.
Frankly, I never liked Nativity Scenes. You think it was pleasant being born in a Godforsaken (oops, sorry again, Pop) manger in the dead of winter with no space heater? Why do you have to remind me of that every year? My mother has a baby in a heavily mortgaged barn with no heat, no pre-natal care and a pantry full of nothing but stale Matzoh (in other words, your dream scenario, Sarah).
Explain to me why I'm supposed to feel honored on my birthday because you and your rich friends pay good money for a dead tree, underpay someone to schlep it into your 12-bedroom McMansion and put ridiculously overpriced non-union-made presents under it for your spoiled kids, but God forbid (oops) you should increase the minimum wage or extend unemployment benefits.
Not crazy about your Christmas carols either. Some of them are pretty catchy, but "Jingle Bells"? Who wants to ride in an open sleigh in subzero temperatures except for a deranged homeless person who would be better off in a mental health facility if Reagan hadn't closed all of them?
"Silent Night"? Trust me, it wasn't that silent. I was a baby. I cried a lot. And you wouldn't believe all that noisy jubilation. Fortunately, the neighbors -- Gloria and Excelsis -- didn't complain. Too bad we couldn't afford day care but neither can 60 percent of your middle class.
Christmas is supposed to be about my birthday but do you even know how old I am? Isn't that what birthdays are about? Here's a hint -- I used up my Paul Ryan Medicare voucher centuries ago for those five bandages.
Do I get a birthday cake? No. I love cake. Just like everybody else, I like blowing out candles and making a wish. I'm sure you like making wishes too Sarah, but yours are probably about outlawing contraception.
Not even a birthday card. We have mail here and we take Forever Stamps for all eternity or until Congress fires all your underpaid, overworked mail carriers and steals their pensions.
How come I don't get presents? I could use a few things -- nothing expensive -- maybe cuff links or a nice scarf. Are you too lazy to go to Target and get me a little gift? (Don't go to Walmart -- the owners are so devoid of Christian charity, they make Scrooge look like Mother Teresa.)
On second thought, forget the accessories. Make a generous charitable donation in my name but -- are you listening, Mitt? -- don't do it just for the tax deduction. I'll know.
The Three Wise Men were thoughtful enough to give me presents. The gold was helpful but getting cash is kind of... cold, like the Koch brothers or a gift card to Banana Republic.
Does anybody offer me turkey or mashed potatoes? I love mashed potatoes. But no, I don't even get leftovers. Somehow Santa survives on donations of milk and cookies once a year but that's probably because your pals took away his food stamps.
And now you're arguing about the color of his skin too? He's imaginary, folks. You conjured him up. Who's next in line for this hot racial controversy -- the Tooth Fairy?
Don't even get me started on Easter.
So count me out Sarah. Next year, I think I'll just have a quiet birthday dinner at a Chinese restaurant with close friends and family. Maybe I'll even get a scarf.
In the meantime, Merry Mas!