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Dear Santa,

It’s been quite awhile since last we spoke. Personally, I blame technology. With all the advancements we’ve made in correspondence-related equipment and accessories, it’s nearly impossible to justify spending the $.44 to mail an envelope these days. So I’ve taken to the keyboard, both digital and…uh…regular, but haven’t been able to locate your email address. Are you on Twitter? Do you have a Facebook page? You’re not still on MySpace are you?

Anyway, I’m going out on a limb here and posting my letter to you on my blog in hopes that you are one of the thousands, hundreds, seven subscribers I currently see on my stats page.

In case you haven’t been checking up on me lately, let me begin by telling you that it’s been a pretty good year. I have a wildly successful blog, my kids can’t get enough of me, I recently got a haircut that made me even better looking than I already was, and the medication I’ve been taking for my delusions seems to be working just fine! Thank you 2011, you’ve been great.

You know Santa, back in the day I used to fill page after page of my marble composition book with my wish list to send to you. Video games, action figures, video games about action figures; these items flowed from my #2 pencil like a river to the ocean. On Christmas morning I’d wake up to a mound of presents, mentally checking items off my list with every box I unwrapped. After a marathon session of toy-filled bliss, I’d sit back and bask in the glory of my loot. Life was good.

But kids grow up Santa; ha! I guess I don’t have to tell you that. While I’ve still been able to throw together a Christmas list each year, recently I’ve found it, dare I say, challenging. I never thought that day would come, and let’s be honest, you probably didn’t either. No, the man writing this letter is no longer the materialistic kid he once was. I now have two soon-to-be-materialistic kids of my own and so my focus has shifted to them.

So this year, instead of past Thundercat-heavy gift lists, I’ve come up with just a few presents of the non-wrappable variety. I hope you can pull a few strings for me.

A respectable IQ for the Jakester: If you’ve read some of my blog posts, which I assume you have if you are indeed a subscriber, you know that Jake takes a few falls now and then. I know kids will be kids, but this kid needs a flippin’ helmet. That part I can handle; I’m just concerned that the damage has already been done. I’m not being greedy here, though a scholarship would be helpful someday, I’m just asking for a normal, concussion-free brain for my little man.

Win the lottery: Now I’m not going to micro-manage how you go about making this happen. If you want to simply provide me with a winning ticket, that works. Or, if you prefer, maybe reveal the winning numbers to me in a dream and I’ll take it from there. I’m leaving the logistics up to you. I mean who better to handle logistics than a man responsible for coordinating visits to approximately 1.5 billion homes in one night? Am I right?

The strength to handle a teenage daughter: I know Izzy is only 2, but if her current attitude and personality are any indication of what is to come, it doesn’t hurt to start asking for this now.

Another year of wedded bliss: I’m hoping I’ve assured myself of this request with my recent post about my wife, but just to be sure I’m asking for a little help. I’m expecting that one of these days she’ll come to her senses, but not this year Santa!

Some sort of lost-sock-recovery gizmo: One thing I am somewhat capable of doing around the house is laundry; but at the end of every folding session there’s a poor little argyle buddy staring up at me. While I enjoy turning them into sock puppets as much as the next guy, I’m starting to fear that the army I have amassed may be planning a coup d’etat. I’m hoping you can help me avoid what is shaping up to be an inevitable sock revolution. They are the 99% and I’m scared!

So that about does it for this year Santa. I think you’ll agree that nothing on this list is unreasonable, you know, except for the lottery thing. But if you make it happen, there might be more than milk and cookies waiting for you next year. Now go and get some rest, you have a big night full of “Ho Ho Ho-ing” and chimney squeezing ahead of you.

Sincerely,

Jim (aka The Wordslinger)

P.S.- If you have a Thundercats lunchbox and thermos lying around the workshop, throw that in the bag will ya?

Need a last-minute gift idea for a friend? How ’bout sending them a link to The Wordslinger so they can subscribe! Or have them follow me on Twitter! It may just be the best Christmas present they get. And if it is, I feel genuine pity for them.

 
 
 
 
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