Dear Santa, I would like a macrame'd potholder

December 01, 2004 - 8:03 p.m.

This year I convinced my entire family not to do the normal gift exchange for Christmas, but instead to draw names and give a single gift to a single person. Then I further persuaded them that this single gift will not be bought, but will be homemade. This is harder than it sounds. There was some hissing and presenting of claws, but a few shots of the tranquilizer gun and they were all pretty agreeable.

I challenge you to try this very same idea on your own family and see what happens. Gather together a group of Americans, of any age, race or creed and tell them YOU ARE NOT GETTING ANYTHING FOR CHRISTMAS. OK, YOU ARE GETTING ONE SINGLE GIFT, AND IT IS FROM YOUR ESTRANGED HOMOSEXUAL BROTHER WHO LIVES IN FLORIDA, BECAUSE HE DREW YOUR NAME FROM THE MAGIC COFFEE CUP.

Watch the sparks fly, and the spit. Then tell them that not only are they receiving a single gift for Christmas, but it’s going to be HOMEMADE! Ah HA HA HA HAHA!

The more I think about this the more I realize that I must be completely insane for organizing this. But luckily, my family possesses some quirks that just might make this a recipe for success, like being cheap, semi-creative, and having a penchant to do things that make no sense at all and have a high rate of failure.

I feel a little bad for my 13 year-old niece, who seemed very positive and excited about the idea, but I wonder if deep down she isn’t cursing What about the Degrassi DVD I wanted? WHAT ABOUT DEGRASSI? But then I remembered that when I was thirteen, that was the first Christmas I received snowflake socks from my parents so she is probably not missing out on much. Her birthday is two weeks after Christmas, so I’ll make it up to her then and buy her the latest Grand Theft Auto video game so she can learn how to beat up hookers and steal their money, which will come in handy later in life when she needs to support the drug habit she is driven to by receiving too many pairs of snowflake socks. Just like her aunt.

But seriously. Christmas is bullshit, don’t you think? Everyone sends out an email list of what they want, and you go to Target and pick up everything in one fell swoop. I buy my sister some fancy lotion, she buys mom a sweater, and mom buys me crock pot. WHY WHY WHY. I can go out and buy my own useless cooking appliances, thank you very much.

This is a LAZY MAN’S CHRISTMAS. Receiving a list and then buying everything on the list? What the fuck is that? Why don’t I just go out and buy your groceries while I’m at it? This is what Christmas has come down to and I think it is a big stinking stocking full of ASS.

At work everyone wants to talk about Christmas gifts and I often get badgered to reveal all of the personal details of my holiday goings-on and my lies can only go so far so I finally admitted that my family is making gifts and donating the saved money to a Christmas charity.

My co-worker who sits closest to me snapped his neck around to bug his eyes out at me and exclaimed, “BUT WHAT ABOUT THE I-POD?? DON’T YOU WANT AN I-POD?? IT’S THE NUMBER ONE GIFT THIS YEAR!”

And I replied, “Fool, ain’t nobody in my family ever spending $400 on some bullshit music holder that has a name that sounds like the container that Superman done flown his ass into Kansas with!”

So this is what I did. I found a local child-welfare agency called Lawrence Hall Youth Services and obtained a wish-list for a 16 year-old boy in a foster home, and I’m going to be his Santa. This could very well be the only present he receives this Christmas, so I hope he appreciates the box of Bibles I am sending him.

His name is Dante, and I really want to give him a Christmas card and write something meaningful in it but I have no idea what to say. What can I possible say to a foster-care boy that would make any difference in his life?

Dear Dante,

I’m sorry that you have no parents. I’m also sorry that your mother named you after the guy who has unusually keen insight into the many levels of hell. I’m sorry that, statistically speaking, you will probably die of a gunshot wound before the age of 27. Either that or prison, but you have choices in life so choose wisely! Dante, I want you to know that there are wealthy white people in this world, that live in faraway neighborhoods, in large comfortable homes, and they are thinking of you at this special time of year. We want you to be healthy and happy, and surrounded by love and kindness on Christmas. But most importantly, we want to prevent you from breaking into our homes and stealing the gifts beneath our Christmas tree, which is why we are sending this gift along to you. Is $50 enough? How about $100? Should I make the check out to “Cash”?

Merry Christmas and Love Always,

The Stupid White Bitch Who Would Like to Teach the World to Sing

I know that sounds very crass, and I don’t mean for it to be, but the irony here is not lost on me. White people sending money to black people in the ghetto once a year? I actually am starting to feel a little embarrassed here. For some reason it would have felt totally ok if I had only had to buy a doll for a 5 year-old white girl. But a teenager, and black? It seems a little condescending and I feel like a White Asshole. It would help if Dante is retarded. That would change everything, because retarded kids are just so thankful for any kind of human interaction, even when you throw them into a briar patch.

Alright, this is getting ridiculous. Tomorrow I’m going to Target and I’m going to buy everything on Dante’s wish list and wrap that shit up proper, like a stupid white broad approaching her 30s. But I think I’ll sign the card Aisha and maybe download a picture of a hot black girl from Google images. Werrrrd, Merry Christmas, Brutha.

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