Dear Santa Claus,
All I want for Christmas this year is for the person who runs Joe Biden's teleprompter to be a covert, true American patriot "plant", who's just biding their time, waiting for the perfect moment to type "Let's Go Brandon!" into the middle of one of Glitchy Joe's speeches, so that busted-up old meatbag just blurts it out for the cameras on a nationally televised broadcast, as he stumbles through the exercise of trying to successfully navigate through and read what the White House Squatters want him to say.
Okay, that's bullshit. You know that's not all I want for Christmas. We do this every year, ya tubby bitch. 🤪
I also want a hundred new paid subscribers on Substack.
And there's always that recurring request about Christina Hendricks knocking on my door with a six-pack and a pepperoni pizza, wearing a full length fur coat with nothing underneath it…which you’ve continued to deny me every year since 2007. 😑
I'm not being good. I'm not good at being good. I'm just not. I'm being “me", and that'll have to do.
Maybe I should find someone who is being good and get them to put the “Teleprompter Patriot" thing on their Christmas wish list as my proxy.
Maybe the Christina Hendricks thing, too. 🤔
Anyway, just like I say every year, forget the whole conventional ‘naughty/nice’ protocol. It's an antiquated paradigm in a “new normal” world. Who can even say what's naughty or nice anymore?
Just do it because it's right. 😉
Your pal,
Glen
If the climate change kooks get their way there will eventually be no lumps of coal to put in the stockings for the naughty kids anyway.
I’d volunteer to do the teleprompter thing but I’m not good either. And I could not stand, for even a minute, being near any of the squatters, especially that nasty bitch psaki.