"I want a new laptop too." -Santa

In these troubling economic times, a letter from the North Pole.

Hello, children! Santa Claus here! Thanks as always for your letters! I realize it’s unusual for me to write back, but I thought it only fair to warn you that the economic recession isn’t just hitting North America and Europe this year. I apologize for simply posting this on my website, but did those of you that sent letters notice the ridiculous price of stamps? No wonder the Postal Service may go under. Jesus Christ! Sorry, gotta stop saying that. What I’m trying to say, kiddies, is that Old Saint Nick is making some cuts too. Specifically:

Gonna Adjust Who’s Naughty or Nice
Out of necessity, I’m recalibrating the Naughty or Nice Detector this year. In the past, biting your sister or not doing your homework would be overlooked as an anomaly, but this year I’ll have to enforce a zero tolerance policy to reduce my gift output. You teenage boys who are “just using the bathroom?” I’m not falling for it. Naughty list! Also, I regret to inform you that because of cuts in our Quality Assurance department, I’ll be making the list, but not checking it twice. If you won the Nobel Peace Prize but ended up on the Naughty list by accident, my apologies.

Speling Cownts
In the past, I’ve had time to stop and interpret your scrawling, but this year I’m using an Optical Character Recognition scanner to process your requests. Sorry, but if you can’t spell “Optumis Prim,” you’re certainly not smart enough to transform a robot into a car. You’re getting horsed. And it’s Claus, not “Clause.” Remember to leave the last E off for “Error” or “Economic downturn.”

Stockings
I’m going to insist that you all use real stockings or socks this year. These massive decorative novelty stockings have gotten out of hand and there’s no way I can fill them. If you get a run in your nylon, you’ve already received too much. Also, please lower your expectations from Olive Garden gift card to Chapstick.

Elfsourcing
Was anybody else mad when they cancelled Outsourced? Things are tough all over, including here. Overworked elves – the best toy makers in the world – were not as jolly this year. We’ve gotten back most of the guys who were on hiatus filming The Hobbit, but I’ve lost hundreds to the Keebler corporation, which simply has a better benefits package than I can offer given the cost of Arctic health care. As a result, I’ve had to take on some cheap labor from the shoemaker’s place. If you asked for “cobbling,” you’ll be fine, but our toys will have 30 percent more lead this year and will break as easily as a Hot Wheels Action Playset (typically upon removal from the box).

Baby, It’s Not Coal Outside
Those of you in the Northeast who are without power and intentionally being bad this year in hopes of getting coal in your stocking: quit it. I can’t afford to distribute one of our most valuable natural resources to the naughty. The only coal you’re getting is Nat King. Besides, we have to think about the environment, so I do have some good news! Instead of coal, starting this year I’ll be sending out contractors to install solar panels. Bad news: the contractor is Solyndra.

New Iceland
Speaking of the Northeastern United States … I thought we had bad snow at the North Pole, until I tried to get into your driveways (what was left of them) last year! It was easy to find your houses, thanks to the noise from your backup generators (“these go to 11”), but my sleigh is simply not equipped for that kind of snowfall. You pull that shit again and I’m going to cut back by skipping your state completely, ESPECIALLY if you keep complaining about it on Facebook.

Misstating
Actually, that’s not a bad idea. I’ll cut some states entirely this year. Let’s see … Alaska, Hawaii: sorry, I only brought my map of the contiguous United States. Whoopsie! Wyoming: most people aren’t sure where you are or if you’re really a state at all. Gone. Finally, a major reason for this economic disaster is all of you squabbling politicians in the Washington, D.C., area. If you won’t stop giving yourselves gifts, I’ll do it for you. To put it another way: No, Virginia, there is no Santa Claus. Behave better next year.

The Approximately 12 Business Days of Christmas
What freakish gift-giver came up with the bizarre list of items in that annoying tune? Maids a-milking? Christmas is no place for your twisted fetishes! Putting those lyrics aside, I would like to address the 12 days more literally. Twelve days is at least how long it’s going to take to finish the delivery this year due to magic pixie dust rationing. I’m not making any promises, but I’ll try to get it wrapped up by Martin Luther King Day.

Finally, please don’t let my letter give you depression. Get it? Recession/depression? Ho, ho, ho! My Christmas spirit is not gone. This may be the year you can’t afford cable TV to watch The Year Without A Santa Claus, but it won’t be the year without a Santa Claus. I’m still making my rounds. On Dasher! On Dasher! On Prancer and Vixen! On Comet! On Cupid! On Don—oops, I’d forgotten I’d laid off Donner and Blitzen and threatened the other six that I’d do the same to them unless they did more work for the same salary. Hang tight; I’ll see if I can bribe that insecure kid with the weird nose.