Dear Santa,
I’m not gonna lie to ya, I’m getting desperate. In Kyle Quincey, I have the most overpaid chunk of wood in the NHL and my best players are fast approaching their pensions. My players’ teeth are falling out like crabs from a hooker’s G-string.
Meanwhile, Zetterberg has fucked up his back. All of this in a place tagged “Hockeytown!” I need help and I need it fast because the people here expect success from their Red Wings, and there’s nothing I want more then to inject good cheer into the beer-addled brain of a Clinton Township power-drinker.
Sales of raw squid have been seriously declining in recent years and I blame myself. I know, I know — I look like a badly constructed Conan O’Brien mask. You can put that down to years of sticks in the face and poutine down the ol’ throat. But this team of underachieving, overpaid semi-stars, and over-the-hill, toothless fogeys just isn’t gonna cut it.
Please send me another team and I’ll leave you out a bottle of Steam Whistle.
Mike Babcock
Head Coach, Detroit Red Wings
Dear Santa,
Please, please, please encourage a studio to make The Santa Clause 4. While you’re at it, get a Buzz Lightyear doll into every child’s socking and keep those Home Improvement re-runs coming.
Tim Allen
Dear Santa,
It’s been a shitty year, my brotha. Even though I got up and swore to Jesus that I was not the criminal the feds said I was, the odds were stacked against me. Please be good to my kids and Carlita — give them whatever you would have given me. All I want is soap-on-a-rope.
Thanks, Santa.
Kwame Kilpatrick
Former Mayor, Current Felon
To: Santa Claus, aka Kris Kringle, aka Saint Nicholas, aka Father Christmas
It has come to our lawyers’ attention that you have been distributing amusement devices for children (henceforth known as “toys”) within the legal boundaries of the City of Detroit.
Further research has revealed you have been violating airspace, trespassing on private and government property, flying an unlicensed aircraft and posing as a supernatural being.
What’s more, your ploy of distributing these “toys,” free of charge, has deprived the City of Detroit its pro rata share of tax revenue. We estimate that in the past 313 years you have distributed no less than $500 billion in said “toys.”
This office wasn’t initially sure how to describe your connection with the City of Detroit, but since you unfailingly distribute these “toys” within said city on an annual basis, you fall under the category of a “natural resource asset” of the City of Detroit.
As such, because this office is executing bankruptcy procedures for the City of Detroit, and bondholders as well as other creditors have placed significant liens on the city, we are forced to issue a cease and desist order from delivering “toys” to households within the city limits until such time as:
• Detroit’s creditors have been satisfied;
• The City of Detroit’s credit rating is AAA;
• You have placed “toys” equaling a value of at least $50 billion in escrow with a firm we reserve the right to designate.
Until such demands are met, please deliver said “toys” designated for children residing within the City of Detroit to the bondholders and creditors listed in Appendix B.
Should you fail to comply with the demands set forth, this office will seek redress in both civil and criminal courts to the fullest extent the law allows.
On a personal note, if I may, given your “unconventional” activities, there’s a distinct possibility of federal law enforcement, as well as the U.S. military, becoming involved — including a possible drone strike.
Regards,
Kevyn Orr
Emergency Manager, Detroit
Dear Santa,
Alright, let’s get this shit started. I want a Skynyrd-shaped pool filled with Mountain Dew. I want a rack that holds all of my gun racks. I want a genuine ’76 Allman Brothers denim jacket. I want the respect that Eminem gets. I want rattlesnake-skin cowboy boots. I want a rattlesnake in a motherfuckin’ glass cage and I’m gonna call him Snakey. I want some of that there sweet fuckin’ deer jerky. I want to go 10-times platinum. I want Pammy’s sweet titties in my face one more time. I want to look Tommy Lee in the eye and say, “I’ve had Pammy’s sweet titties in my face again.” I want an Xbox. I want NWA to re-form — but I get to be Eazy-E. I want a Dr. Who Tardis. I want a king-size Kit-Kat. I want a Lions jersey with “KIIIIIDDDDD” on the back. Fuck that shit, I want to coach the Lions. I want to arrive at the gates of Heaven and hear God say, “Kid, you did good, son.” And America. And the Bible. I want that sweet-ass gatefold Foghat vinyl I saw at that store the other day. I want a red licorice dispenser for my car like in Wayne’s World. I want a $50 Applebee’s gift card (you can eat like a king for that money at Applebee’s). I want a T-shirt with a wolf howling on the front. I want a remote-control helicopter.
And for you, I’ll leave you out one of my Badass brewskis, homie.
Get on that shit,
Kid Rock
Dear Santa,
You know what, actually? If I ever need anything, I’m just going to ask Jack. Looks like I’ll be having a White Christmas after all!
Thanks anyway,
The Masonic Temple
Claus,
OK, first off, big guy, I want none of this “White Mayor” stuff. The blacks have been voting for whites since emancipation, haven’t they? I’m just a Detroiter now, Santa, so let’s get that right out of the way.
I’m happy to rediscover my old neighborhood self. I’m nothing special. I’m so ordinary I walk into a factory gate and they tell me there’s no work. I’m a “dese, dem and dose” guy who shifts his feet in high society. So I don’t think race or class should be an issue. If you could do something to tone that stuff down, that’d be great.
Now, I’ve been good. And people played dirty with me. They ran a guy with the same name and I swallowed that. They spray painted my name on Davison and I rolled up my sleeves and washed it off. I’ve played by a demanding book of rules. I know I’m on your “nice” list. I’ve never been convicted of a crime.
Now, for obvious reasons, I’d argue that it would not be a bad thing if people didn’t go revisiting the glory days of Big Mac and the Wayne County machine. Ancient history, if you ask me.
I’m not a fixer, either, Santa; just a clock-punching politician on the tenure track. I go into the room and find out what deal I have to make — and I make the best one I can — even when I have to hold my nose.
So, I’m hoping you can help ensure that, when I get those keys to the city on Jan. 1, whatever deal I have to make comes out smelling better than usual. I know you have contacts in the media, so whatever you could do would be really terrific.
And I really want to succeed. I want to arrange a graceful exit for Orr, make whatever peace I have to with the suits in Lansing, and get us back in whatever business we’ll be in.
I really have hopes for this great city. It’s seen some tough times, but there was a time, just two generations ago, when it was a great and politically important place. I want you to help me, big fella, to take the ruins of this once-great city and refashion it with as much integrity as is allowed, to turn it back into that wonderful thing it once was: A springboard for mayors to become governors.
Yours truly,
Mike Duggan
Mayor-Elect of Detroit
Hey, Chief,
You know why I’m writing you again this year. I’m hoping that one of my Detroit teams can get out there and win. I’m not getting any younger, fella, and you know I’ve been good. I’m so good that some of the poorest people in the country are giving me hundreds of millions of dollars to build something they’ll pay to use! Again!
God Bless America,
Mike Ilitch
Hiya, Santa,
Putting aside my clown makeup for a minute, Santa, I have a serious business problem to discuss — because my corporate image is at stake. Look, you and I are not so different: We both the head massive global brands that have served billions and billions around the world. As you likely know, both my company-owned and franchisor store employees have been protesting, demanding wages be raised from $7.40 to $15 an hour. WTF?! When I heard this I nearly had a heart attack! (Don’t even try and blame it on all the Happy Meals and super-sized Cokes, either!)
I have to imagine overhead is low up there around the North Pole, even better than Vietnam — but, even then, how do you make it happen? Have your elves threatened to unionize? You don’t actually pay them a decent wage, do you?
What I really need for Christmas this year is a new workforce — one that’s motherfucking grateful to work in the convenience food industry and doesn’t mind working two or three jobs for 80 hours a week just to make ends meet. Sorry, I got carried away. I really am the sad clown, you know. I don’t like to see people work full-time yet not exceed the poverty threshold. It’s just that, well, shareholders are more important than my workers. Maybe you can send me a few hundred thousand elves?
Sincerely,
Ronald McDonald
Corporate Shill
Dear Sir,
Let me begin by thanking you for everything you’ve done for this organization over the years. Maybe you don’t need them with your flying sleigh, but most Americans need good roads. And I’m writing you with a few more items on our wish list this year because we’re having some problems reminding people, especially young people, of the importance of good roads.
About 20 years ago, our local road planners came up with a doozy of an idea, sir. The plan was to expand I-75 and I-94 into wider freeways, create, larger modern interchanges, with beautiful, continuous, multi-lane service drives! For Oakland County, the I-75 expansion could mean maybe another decade of building new subdivisions and office parks! And with this I-94 plan, Grosse Pointers will be able to zoom right through Detroit to Dearborn and, beyond, Ann Arbor!
Unfortunately, we have some people who don’t understand why this is all so terrific. They have some crazy ideas that people want bridges over the freeways, sir. They’re very cranky and say some silly things. They think people all want to ride bicycles and skateboards and walk everywhere. You can see they’re unreasonable.
So what I’d ask you to do, sir, is to remind today’s kids that the private automobile is the very best invention in the history of the planet, mankind’s magic carpet. Maybe you could drop extra monster truck miniatures in their stockings this year? Oh, and perhaps give them fewer of those bicycles?
Respectfully,
Finneas Roadblock
Michigan Commission for Good Roads
Dear Santa,
There will come a time when I am no longer a member of this exclusive heap of craziness that we call humanity and when that time comes many an Evil Dead super-fan will likely lose his shit; this is just a warning.
These bastards get tattoos of my face on their fucking arm — so they won’t think twice about going postal in their local comic book store. So here’s what we need to do to: Send me over a plaster molding kit — the sort of thing groupies used when making molds of rock stars’ dicks in the ’70s — and I’ll make a chin replica.
We can paint it and glue it onto any earnest-faced B-movie actor and they’ll all be none the wiser. In the meantime, please push Raimi into making Army of Darkness II. He must have taken the hint after his Oz shit.
Groovy,
Bruce Campbell
Dear Santa,
My Christmas list for you this year is short and, I think, public-spirited.
First off, I don’t know what Big Ed McNamara asked you for in the old days, but I could use some of that — without the contractor scandal, that is. I’ve been pretty good. I mean, I have run Wayne County pretty competently this year. I could have done better. There were some mistakes. But I really need some of that slack that other politicians get.
For instance, I don’t want to hear my name in conjunction with that jail. I don’t want to hear the words “fail jail” or “jail fail” or any combination that involves a jail and me failing. It’s unfair, hurtful, childish and, frankly, really counterproductive. Let’s leave the past in the past and move forward together.
Please stop people from saying all these unfairly negative things about me! I’m tired of people saying I’m running Wayne County like some guy wrecking his family by running up his credit card on a mid-life crisis. Absolutely not true! I’m not even that old yet!
We have a lot of problems in Wayne County, such as all the pay cuts our county’s union workforce has had to take. (Oh, if it’s possible, can you make them forget about that for at least another election cycle?) What would really help is if people had a clear idea of what it is Wayne County does for them, aside from build half-built jails to sell to rich developers to demolish, or sending residents jury duty notices and paying them $50 for the pleasure of parking downtown for a day. If people understood all the good that Wayne County does for them, they’d stop complaining. So, please, please, Santa, tell them whatever it is that Wayne County does for them.
Now, I know as well as anybody that there are nincompoops in county government. Some are just plain stupid, some are corrupt, some are good but just incompetent. But people need to understand that not every level of government can be perfect. We need a place where politicians who lack any kind of skill can still ply their trade. That’s why we have county government. Without Wayne County, a lot of good but troubled people wouldn’t be able to work in government at all! Santa, make them understand!
Finally, what I’d really like is this: If the voters decide against me, if they really don’t want me, they decide they’re tired of Bob Ficano … I want to fight on with them! Could I still start my own business and get a contract with the county? I mean, after getting all my unpaid sick and vacation days and full pension and all that?
Yours,
Bob Ficano
Wayne County Executive
Dear Santa,
This year started out a little rough, but the last six months have been the easiest of my tenure — so thanks for that. Frankly, I had too many people telling me what I ought to do. Just as soon as one group of people had found consensus in my office, another group would charge in and agree that I should do something else; it was disconcerting. (When I was in charge of Bing Steel, everybody always agreed on what I should do and, by God, I did it!)
I tried running Detroit. I put on my fedora, carried my briefcase filled with rolled-up newspapers and looked as attentive as I could. But when fires rage through neighborhoods because of 40-degree winds or vandals threaten the city on Double’s Night, well, something is clearly wrong. It wasn’t like this when I lived up in Oakland County, that’s for sure.
But I’m not writing to complain. Things have turned out fine. I’ve enjoyed being mayor very much since last spring, thanks mainly to Kevyn Orr and Gov. Snyder, who’ve made my job especially pleasant.
My office used to be filled with arguing. Ever since this bankruptcy mess, it’s been nice and quiet around here. As you get older, you appreciate the value of peace and silence. Nowadays, only a few people come into my office and all of them are happy to see me.
I’ve learned we have fantastic people on the city coffers. Last week, I had a conversation with a longtime City Hall employee and he impressed me a great deal. Custodial work must be very hard. He even emptied my garbage for me!
Honestly, Santa, I couldn’t ask for anything more. Everything’s fine now. Last week, one of my aides came in and said that, with all the political power in the hands of private law firms and Lansing, the mayor of Detroit has never been more important.
Hey, that makes me feel great.
Yours truly,
Dave Bing
Mayor of Detroit
