The Christmas letter I’d like to get

The Christmas letter I’d like to get

I meant to warn y’all beforehand, but I generally don’t write the week between Christmas and New Year’s Day. But fear not, Dear Reader, cuz I’m gonna run some greatest hit’s piece from those halcyon Aurora Beacon-News days. And this one particularly makes me laugh because, with the exception of Managing Editor Rick Nagel who loved it, everyone at the Beacon-News tried to squash this one.

God bless Rick for letting me be me! Enjoy!


Sending Christmas cards is a good way to let your friends and family know that you think they’re worth the price of a stamp. – Melanie White

Just when you think you’ve almost made it through the most unbearable of all seasons with only minor emotional scarring and that last trip to the mall didn’t put you over the edge, they start to infest your mailbox. And then those violent holiday urges start to resurface once again.

And I’ve tried to be good this year, too! Not one fruitcake returned though a thoughtless friend’s front window, I haven’t “removed” any Christmas decorations from a neighbor’s front lawn, and I’ve managed to avoid setting the dogs on a gaggle of terrified errant carolers. I really do miss watching them scatter and slip on the ice.

Don’t act like you don’t know what we’re talking about, either. It’s those overly optimistic yuletide missives extolling the fictional virtue of your un-special family intended only to make our pathetic lives pale in comparison. Don’t pretend you don’t send ‘em, either, because we know you do.

Does anyone really care if baby Timmy mastered the art of toilet training at the ripe old age of 3 weeks (unless he’s at my house)? I’m convinced our lives would remain complete if we never learned that little Suzy translated the Bible from the original Aramaic. And what made you think we really wanted to hear about your family vacation to some high falutin’ locale like Dollywood?

You really wanna make me happy this holiday season? Don’t even think about sending me a Christmas letter, or better yet, how about penning a holiday communique that makes us all feel a little bit better about ourselves. I’m thinking something along the lines of this:

Dear Friends and Family,

We’d apologize for sending you this impersonal form letter, but we’re not that close and you’re not nearly important enough for us to take the time to write you a personal letter. Moving on!

We did it! We finally got those indoor facilities installed in the doublewide. No more running across Route 38 to the Shell station in the middle of night for Ethel. She got pretty peeved when her butt froze to the toilet seat last January and she had to sit there until I went over with a crowbar the next morning.

As I like to say, nothin’s too good for my blushing bride!

And speaking of Ethel, I’m sure you saw her on that episode of “Cops” chasing me down the street with a cast iron frying pan in nothing but her underwear. She wasn’t too happy when she caught me messin’ around with her little sister, but I’m proud to say that I’m the one that bought her those “If you can read this I must be drunk” panties last Christmas.

Yep! I’m still working with the decontamination crew down at the nuclear plant, but it ain’t so bad. With all those glowing body parts, Ethel says if I take my clothes off and she hangs a few ornaments on me, it’s even more festive than a fake silver Christmas tree.

And we’re proud to say the trailer’s gonna get a little more crowded next year. That’s right! It’s hard to believe our 14-year-old Latoya is expecting her sixth child. We think we know who the babydaddy is this time, but she’s still trying to sell that alien insemination story to the National Enquirer.

And thank the Lord Jesus! Jermaine will be out on parole in time for Christmas Eve. He swears he was just helping out when the police caught him running from the Suds ‘n Duds with all those wet clothes. Some folks say that boy won’t amount to much, but we think he’s got a real future on the city council.

More good news! Little Tito is finally coming home from the hospital. You may have heard about the unfortunate “Deaf Leopard” tattoo incident. Of course, the infection set in soon after he tried to make the corrections himself with a soldering iron.

Cross your fingers! This year could be the charm for young Marlon. We’re quite confident he’ll finally move on to middle school in the fall! At just 27, he’s poised to be the scholar of the family, but he still says those six years of fourth grade were the best time of his life.

We’re happy to report that uncle Joe is recovering from his recent surgery, but it’s taking him awhile to adjust to life as a woman. I suppose it would be tough having to come up with a whole new wardrobe when you’re 6-foot-8 and 456 pounds. For now, we hear he’s borrowing clothes from his younger sister.

But the highlight of our year was the family trip to Branson, Missouri. What an amazing place! That Elvis impersonator got me so choked up I went right out and had “hunka hunka burning love” tattooed right across my right butt cheek. Long live the King!

As I sit here thinking about all the trials and tribulations our wonderful family endured last year, I can’t help but find comforted in the thought that we don’t have to see any of you this season and we’re not nearly as bad as the Trumps. That Melania can really decorate a tree, can’t she!

Your’s Truly

Billy Ray


Not only would I be proud to be a part of such an intriguing family, or enjoy such an interesting friend, but one can’t help but step a little lighter after reading something as uplifting as that letter right smack in the middle of another absurd holiday season.

So, unless you can come up with something similarly sinister, stop sending me bleeping Christmas letters! If you don’t, I’ll tell Billy Ray and Ethel where you live!

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