Here it is, almost Christmas, when I am normally spending my day baking snickerdoodles and pumpkin pie, in preparation for a night of frivolity while hanging stockings above the fireplace.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door….Santa's Urgent Plea

It was a “Special Delivery” letter.  The outside of the envelope simply read “Urgent Plea from Santa“.

At first, I thought it was a joke… No one sends letters anymore, not even Santa, right?

Surely, he could have texted me from his iPhone.

Nevertheless, I tore open the envelope with the enthusiasm of a little boy.

It was a hand-written letter, short, neatly spaced, in a beautiful cursive style that few people practice these days. I concluded it was probably written by “the missus”… Claus.

At first, I thought it was a joke… No one sends letters anymore, not even Santa, right?  Surely, he could have texted me from his iPhone.

I know what you are thinking… you are sitting there in disbelief, having decided I surely took leave of my senses.

You are probably certain I have been dipping into the eggnog if I think for one minute that you actually believe me…

Okay, you are correct… I don’t really know a thing about baking. I admit I get a lot of help from Mrs. Smith and the Keebler Elves.

So anyway, as I pulled the letter out, I noticed adhered to the top page was a little, yellow stick-em note that simply said:

Dear Billy“,

(…quit laughing… Yes, Santa still calls me Billy…)

Dear Billy,
As you are the proprietor of a large email list, I am sending this urgent request to all good boys who are also list owners who might help me spread the word. Please forward the contents of my enclosed letter to your audience in the hope that it will reach most parents of the good little boys and girls before this evening.


I was just as shocked as YOU!!..

Santa still believes I am a “good boy”!

So, since I do not wish to see a hunk of coal in my stocking Christmas morning, I am copying Santa’s letter in its entirety.

Dear Parents,
I am contacting you in the hope that my plea will be heard in time, before the Eve of Christmas.

For many generations, everyone has been so kind to leave me cookies and milk for a snack, as I make my rounds. I do want to thank you for your generosity, but, at the urgings of my doctor and Mrs. Claus, I must make two modest requests:

Number 1 – Please, no more rBST/rBGH infused milk. These stand for recombinant bovine somatotropin and recombinant bovine growth hormone, respectively. Seriously, folks… I’ve been doing this a long time, and I can assure you that my liver can’t handle any more of those chemicals.

Ask yourself this, if shooting cows full of a bunch of synthetic hormones just to boost their production of milk was such a good thing, why don’t we do it to new mothers?

Furthermore, why don’t you ask the executives at Monsanto — the inventors of this stuff — how much coal they found in their stockings over the last couple decades. They seem to keep coming up with these brilliant ideas.

And while we are on the topic of milk, I’m sorry, but soy milk is not milk. I have no idea what it is, but it isn’t milk. Goat’s milk is fine… or even skim or 2%… but please, no soy. Yeck!

Number 2 – When I first started this gig, there was no such thing as processed, prepackaged cookies. Likewise, there was no need for a bunch of junk to increase the shelf life, such as, hydrogenated oils, trans fats, or artificial preservatives.

Also, we got along just fine before anyone ever heard of artificial sweeteners. I mean, Really?! What’s wrong with regular sugar or honey?… Of course, too much sugar is bad, but at least my body recognizes sugar as a real substance.  And the reindeer and I rely on all that sugar for quick energy to stay hyped-up all night to make it to each house.

Trust me when I tell you it takes more than magic dust to keep us cruising at 3-times the speed of sound. This is one night we can use an abundance of carbohydrates, and I’m sorry, but artificial sweeteners won’t cut it. And again, my liver can’t take those chemicals, anymore.

Ordinarily, I share the cookies with my reindeer, but, bless their little hearts, their digestive systems are getting up there in the years, and frankly, their tummies are sensitive to all the junk that has found its way into our treasured treats.

No kidding!  Have you read the ingredients of an Oreo cookie, lately?!  What was wrong with the original recipe from 1912?!!

Perhaps the more important question is; have you ever imagined what can happen when flying at high speed behind a team of reindeer who ingest high fructose corn syrup and artificial flavors?

Especially, Donner and Blitzen… Jeeze!…  Picture feeding a goose cheesecake with a Fig Newton crust topped with a prune sauce.

Yeah, not pretty.

So, all I am asking is please read your labels.  Knowing how bad this stuff is before you buy it is a good first step.

I really appreciate your time and attention to these matters, as does Mrs. Claus, my doctor, and certainly my dry-cleaner.

And may I take this opportunity to wish you, and yours, a sincere “Ho, Ho, Ho” for a very Merry Christmas.

Oh, and by the way, I will also take this opportunity to go on the record and say that the Jolly Green Giant TOTALLY stole that “ho-ho-ho” thing from me.

He wasn’t so jolly when he saw what Donner and Blitzen left in his stocking THAT Christmas…


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