Santa's letter to Jack

Dear "Jack"

I'm Santa, and I've received your long list of things that are way beyond what anyone could possibly provide.  You may know me as the figure that your parents urged you to applaud at numerous parades -- candy was thrown -- I was the big event, the culmination of Christmas that erupted in oohs and awes and childhood splendor -- I was the result of you expecting the most the world would bring you.

You wanted more and more and more.   I'm not surprised that you want a dinosaur -- it only makes sense to ask for something that no one could possibly provide.

Because Christmas is indeed the season of giving.

And you hear tales of elves, with lists, one of which you provided -- and these elves you've always assumed, because that's what you're told, are at your beck and call -- Hurry up, Elves - have it done by Christmas!  Because, you claim, you've been a good boy.

112 workers, "Jack" were just burned to death in a factory, in Bangladesh, making clothes for the stores that sell them for Christmas.  Why did they die?  They were locked in, because these clothes had to be made on time.  

It's not an isolated incident. 33 factories have burnt down in the same country.  Do we believe that our toys, citing "made in China" were made by people as merry as us?  Seems to me that China has started building suicide fences in their workers dormitories -- see, they're dormitories because they're not allowed to leave -- well, yeah, these fences are to keep people from killing themselves after being forced to make stuff so fast.  What's that crazy Bing Crosby Hawaiian Christmas song again?  Fun Stuff!

Hey, Jack -- I realize I'm just a creation of Coca Cola, intended to sell more sugar laced soda to diabetic, obese children.  And, honestly, I'm not here to rain on my parade.  But when you're expecting your gifts to be made by 10 year olds who work 16 hour days, I really start to wonder, Are you really such a good boy? And honestly, are your parents callous a**holes who preach about goodwill and peace and all that crap just to make them feel better?

I don't know, Jack.  Enjoy your dinosaur.  

But he's not in the Bible.

And I quit.


The End

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