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December 5, 2008 |

By Brian Prisco | Eloquent Eloquence | December 5, 2008 |

Dear Children of Pajiba,

It’s like that, huh?

I bring you toys. I work my fingers to the bone to handcraft goods and merchandise for you, you ungrateful little shits, and this is the thanks I get? I spent 360 days a year working in a fucking ice box, with nothing but penguins and lame ass little elves who’d rather be dentists. My reindeer run away, because of identity crises. I have a retarded yeti fucking up the joint. One year, a fucking canvas sack kidnapped me. Or a pumpkin on a stick, it’s all a goddamn blur.

You criticize me for my films? You think I want to be represented by Vince Vaughn? I’m the Claus, bitches. I used to have Bing Crosby and Jimmy Stewart singing my holiday praises. Now who do I have? Tim Allen and Paul Giamatti. Why don’t you just get that lardass Dan Fogler and twist the knot in the noose?

I’m sick of it. I sick of the disrespect. So there will be no more presents for the Eloquents until you cobble together the perfect holiday movie. And don’t pull any of that fucking Movie Movie shit on me either. No, let’s just cut and paste scenes from holiday movies we think are awesome. You think I want Ralphie shooting the eye out to Kermit Cratchet, while Clark Griswold electrocutes himself in the background? Come to think of it, that’d be awesome. Fuck this once a year shit, I’m moving to Hollywood where I can fucking get a tan. I’m old, I’m tired, and I’ll be pooping in a chimney before I move to Florida with the rest of the Deathwatch.

So get to stepping if you want free T-shirts.

Suck my candycane,

Kris Kringle, ESQ.

A Letter from Santa Claus / Brian Prisco

Eloquent Eloquence | December 5, 2008 |

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