I must say that Deiter's was the funniest. But I'm not going to publish his because this is my blog and no one is allowed to be funnier than me on my blog.
Dear Secret Santa, Old Saint Nic, Kris Kringle (or whatever other alias you may be going by these days),
I know your secret. I've known since I was a boy. I didn't find out on the schoolyard or on the playground. I didn't read about it in a book. I figured it out through sheer wit and solid detective work.
That's right Santa, I know that you're not real.
Not a real man, at least. Wikipedia says that you are based on a Greek Saint and possibly the pagan, Germanic god Odin. But we both know that is a load of reindeer poo.
It should be pretty obvious to anyone that is willing to use a little bit of rational thinking that you are, in fact, a Cyborg. Yes, that's right. A true cybernetic organism. I can only assume that you were sent back in time on some errand of hope by the future of mankind. I suppose it isn't such a bad thing. Bringing hope and cheer to millions in the form of brightly wrapped gifts is a lofty but admirable ambition to take on every year. It is not, however, difficult to believe that a Cyborg (think Terminator, but with a red, pointy cap that doesn’t kill people) could zip around the world, whilst carrying loads and loads of toys, and deliver them between sun down on Christmas Eve and sun up on Christmas Day. Besides, how could an overweight, insanely old German-Greek guy possibly do all of that in such a short period of time? Being a Cyborg from the future gives you the added advantage of robotic speed, the lack of need for sleep (more time to get all those toys ready during the year), and the ability (and this is the most important part) to jump back and forth in time. Bingo! How else could such a feat of voluminous distribution of toys and treats be accomplishe
d? So, Dear Cyborg Santa, this isn’t so much of a wish list as it is a ransom note (or black mail, if you will). Here’s the deal: you give me what I want this year and I won’t peal back the synthetic skin of your computer chip, gear-driven façade to reveal the shocking truth of what you really are. Below you will find a list of my demands. Please select a few and have them to me on or before December (the sooner the better). I have my finger on the left mouse button, and I will send an email chain letter the likes of which you have never seen in your silicon-databank-brain, exposing your secret to all the world!Mwwahahahahahahahah!!
Here is a list of books that I would like to have. I keep this list in a spreadsheet to keep track of books that I would like to read, so I just copied the whole thing here. I put a star (*) by the ones that I am particularly interested in. Some of these may be difficult to find, especially in the North Pole (if that is where you truly live), but they are readily available on line (which should be a cinch to find for a robotic computer from the future!) Check Amazon.com. They are great. And cheap. A Visa Gift Card would also suffice, I suppose. I am sure there are some things that I would like besides books, but cannot think of at the moment. So Cyborg Santa, until next year, farewell!
P.S. Just curious, are your reindeer Cyborgs too? What about the elves? I’m thinking that Rudolph’s red nose is some kind of all-seeing, future-reading cyclopean eye that you use to determine who has been naughty or nice. Or maybe it’s some kind of weather forecaster? Anyway, get back to me on that if you get a chance.
P.S.S. Since you are essentially just a computer with synthetic skin, teeth, and hair, you won’t be needing those traditional organic treats that are left for you every year: cookies and milk. I think I’ll save those for another carbon based organism that can actually enjoy them. ME!
By the way, if you're wondering to yourself whether I included this letter to Santa simply to fill up space and make myself feel as though I have contributed to my blog, well, then, you're right! Now move along.
Kirk Out.
