Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

If you happen to be coming by on Christmas Eve, I sure hope you’ll drop off a new digital camera for me. My old one still works, but, hey, so does my old Brownie Hawkeye camera. I really want one that has most of the bells and whistles as well as an automatic mode.

Santa, I want you to know I have been extra good this year. And you know that you are one of my best friends. Yes sir, I tell everybody how wonderful and generous you are.

Santa, when you stop by we’ll have some cookies and milk for you. The cookies are special. You see our 8 year old daughter bakes them just for you. I’ve always told her she makes the best cookies in the world and you better eat them all or her feelings will be hurt. I’m not sure, but from the smell of things in the kitchen, I’d guess the cookies are on the well done side. Still, they’re mighty good.

And Santa, I’m going to leave you a big glass of milk. None of that low fat crap...genuine milk complete with enough butterfat to clog three arteries at once. You see, I wouldn’t want you to leave me a “low fat” camera that’s missing some of the bells and whistles because somebody thinks it’s better for me. No sir, and I know you always like the real thing. Oh yes, dipping those well done cookies in milk aids with the digestion.

Santa, I want you to know I have been particularly good this year. I only lusted in my heart and kept my car windows rolled up when cussing out the driver in front of me. I went to church too. On occasion, I listened to the sermon rather than working the cross word puzzle. And I didn’t complain about Miss Esther’s soprano solo at Easter cause I used those invisible ear plugs you left for me last year.

So Santa, please come to see me this year and try not to wake me up like you used to when I was nine or ten.

Your good buddy and friend forever,

Old Bopper