Friday Semi-Fluff: Letters to Santa

Ohferbleepssake.

This Christmas, the Pennsylvania Medical Society is asking children to ease up on the milk and cookies for Santa Claus. That way, his ample waistline won’t be further widened by the 787.5 million calories he would otherwise consume in that state alone.

No, see, I get that large chunks of this are written with a knowing wink to the adults. I get that this is somebody’s/bodies’ unsuccessful attempt at whimsy with a moral. I get it. But I also live in a house with two young PBS watchers. So when I see this:

The poll is part of the society’s annual campaign to highlight a Christmas tradition as a way to teach a health lesson to those who don’t park reindeer on the roof.

…it strikes a familiar chord. Yes, God forbid we have a situation involving BOTH children AND food that doesn’t teach a dad-blame HEALTH LESSON. Because that strategy — teaching children to associate tasty bites of food with shaming, moralizing lectures — has clearly proven SO successful to human happiness that we can’t afford to suspend it even for one stinking second during a holiday celebration.

“The average person gains 1.4 pounds per year, one pound of which is often gained over the holidays because of overeating,” said Pennsylvania Medical Society President James Goodyear, MD. “There’s no better time than right now to adopt the Santa Snack Plan — to help Santa and yourself not only on Dec. 24, but also all year.”

The Santa Snack Plan is a way to cut down Santa’s (and your) unhealthy eating, such as the strategy modeled by the small percentage of Pennsylvanians who said they would leave carrots, apple slices and celery sticks for St. Nick.

Yeah, ‘kay. Couple things. First, let’s note that it’s weird to call something the “Santa Snack Plan” when part of your whole pearls-clutching point is that the traditional and widely-favored Santa snacks are OMGBADFOODS! You might consider calling it the “Opposite of Santa Snacks Snack Plan” or the “We Can’t Stop Moralizing About Food Even One Evening A Year Snack Plan” or the “We’re Stuck At Home Having Snacks Because We’re So Obnoxious and Ungracious Nobody Will Have Us Over For Christmas Dinner For Fear of Being Lectured At Snack Plan.” Possibilities abound.

Second, uhhh, I’m pretty sure kids – especially any demographic that might, conceivably, Look To Santa As A Role Model For Their Own Eating Habits – are supposed to gain quite a bit more than 1.4 pounds a year. Whence the panic, O Pennsylvania Medical Society?

Third, I’m trying to figure out what the children’s thought processes are imagined to be, such that this particular health lesson is called for. Once a year, some kids in some parts of the world leave cookies and milk out for Santa Claus. So the thinking is that kids love Santa, and Santa eats cookies, and therefore… kids will eat cookies cookies nothing but cookies until they puke and gain 1.4 pounds a year and get fat and become our national shame and drain health care dollars and die?

Right, well, is that before or after they go back in time, become Anatolian bishops, give lots of stuff to the poor, die, get canonized by the Catholic and Orthodox churches, have a feast day named for them, hang out for a few centuries, get coopted by Coca-Cola, move to the North Pole, hire elves, raise reindeer, and start making and delivering Wiis for all the children of the land? I mean, if Santa’s eating cookies is such an OVERWHELMINGLY TEMPTING EXAMPLE that children are POWERLESS TO RESIST HIM?

Or is the idea that parents leave the cookies out and then eat them, which is totally NOT OKAY because even in a season of celebration, the very worst thing you can be is a fat fat fatty fat cookie eater, a setter of bad examples for the children, who’s getting fatter by the year? A whole 1.4 pounds fatter!

They’re. Just. Cookies. Sheesh, people took notice when Sesame Street’s Cookie Monster felt the need to clarify that cookies are a “sometimes food.” But MOTHER OF PEARL, special once-a-year holiday things are the very SOMETIMESIEST of sometimes foods. But no. Sorry. Not even then, and not even for Santa.

(And say, incidentally, you know what makes yummy apple slices and refreshing carrot sticks* completely suck? When they’re given to you as a consolation prize along with a lecture about exercising unfailing control over what you eat, for the rest of your life, without taking a break, lest you eat the ohhh-soooo-tempting COOKIES that are not for YOU!)

So here’s your Friday Fluff assignment, Shapelings. Write an over-the-top joy-sucking, earnest, moralizing, Grinchy note to Santa to leave out with your lack of cookies. Here’s mine.

Dear Santa: Suck it. You’re fat. Here are some wafer thin ass-wipe flavored mints, letters from all your exes listing your flaws and failures in excruciating detail, and a self-improvement handbook. Also, some coupons for things you don’t like, and a box of tooth whitener. I hope you hate yourself enough, because the children of the world see you as a role model, you dirtbag. Please leave my stuff under the tree and get the hell out of my house. Love, A Sarah.

(Readers of other faiths or none should feel free to address their letters accordingly. Just make sure they suck all the joy out of an ordinarily joyful experience.)

*-Sorry, but I do not care for raw celery sticks, ever.

155 thoughts on “Friday Semi-Fluff: Letters to Santa

  1. Dear Rabbi Hillel. I know I’m supposed to be eating latkes and sufganiot this Hanukkah to remind me of the 8 days the oil lasted in the temple, however due to the extremely high fat content (not to mention extreme carbs) of these foods, I will be sticking to an all protein diet this year. After all, the Maccabees may have sacrificed their lives to keep the Jewish faith alive but that doesn’t mean I have to stop peeing out my ketones. Shalom.

  2. Dear Humongous Housebreaking Corpulence Devil,

    I know it is common to leave you cookies and milk in exchange for our presents, which you BREAK INTO MY HOUSE THROUGH MY NON-EXISTENT CHIMNEY TO FORCE UPON ME AND MINE, but I have decided that a more appropriate response is a glass of watered down prune juice (full strength will only make you more of a fat, fat, the water rat than you already are, you overfed miscreant!), two celery slivers to divide amongst your nine reindeer who are probably gaining weight every second they spend hauling your monumental ass around the globe, and a restraining order.

    Leave one more damn fruitcake or box of delicious candies in this house, and Rudolph gets it.

    I mean it.

  3. Grr…I’ve been meaning to pick up some celery because I’ve been craving ants-on-a-log (celery sticks with peanut butter in the middle and raisins on top) lately for some reason, and this article just took all the fun out of it.

  4. Dear Santa,

    You are very large and in charge, however you set a terrible example for people. Instead of the usual cookies, which you might recall have been officially classified as a sometimes food, here are some coupons to various weight loss programs for you to try. Hopefully, you can get the help you need in order to slim down and not rely on oppressed animals to do all your heavy lifting.

    Hearts,
    Snarky

    PS: I would really like the stuffs included on this here list. Thanks!

  5. Sarah — go ahead, just be sure to use full-fat peanut butter and extend your middle finger in the direction of Pennsylvania while you do it.

    Becky

  6. Dear Santa,

    Of COURSE we left you cookies! I think you’ll agree that they’re quite tasty… But you might want to leave your pants off for the next part of your trip, because we baked them with OLESTRA.

    Love from the O’Donnells!

  7. Dear Santa,
    Remember how you never brought me the rock tumbler I wanted? Or the microscope? They told me that you sometimes try to teach people to learn to be patient, and learn about how you don’t always get what you want, and how that makes you a stronger person.
    Well, Santa, here are some julienned jicama strips. With Vegemite. Be strong and patient with that, smartass.

  8. Wait! What? Pennsylvania? Huh?

    I was just reading about the amazing cookie tables featured in Pittsburgh weddings – where the bride and her relatives bake thousands upon thousands of delicious cookies for the guests to eat at the reception, after they’ve finished their catered meals. Thousands of cookies are spread out in a colourful feast, and guests are invited to take cookies home with them after they’ve eaten their fill.

    Maybe the whole anti-Santa-cookie thing is just sublimation – the researchers desperately want to be asked to a glorious cookie-filled wedding, but nobody ever asks them, so they take their cookie-deprived frustration out on the whole world – including Santa Claus.

  9. I was just reading about the amazing cookie tables featured in Pittsburgh weddings – where the bride and her relatives bake thousands upon thousands of delicious cookies for the guests to eat at the reception, after they’ve finished their catered meals. Thousands of cookies are spread out in a colourful feast, and guests are invited to take cookies home with them after they’ve eaten their fill.

    I went to a wedding in Pittsburgh once. Best. Idea. Ever.

  10. Dear Santa:

    This whole knowing when I’m sleeping, when I’m awake, bad, good, etc. meme is quite frankly creepy as hell. Stop f**king staling me, dammit.

  11. Dear Santa,

    A recent story in US Weekly magazine alerted me to the fact that you have been struggling with your weight. I know this is a busy time of year for you, but put yourself first! You deserve it! We’re all just so concerned for your health, really.

    Handing out presents to kids since forever, managing a large toy-production enterprise, and generally spreading cheer and goodwill across the earth in only one night doesn’t mean you can just eat whatever you want, you know. You owe it to the kids to take care of yourself! What about the children, Santa?

    Furthermore, you owe it to your North Pole neighbors to set a good example – all those whales and seals and walruses think that prancing around glaciers with a thick layer of blubber is just fine; well, let me tell you, none of us want to look at that. Buoyancy, heat retention, blah blah blah – put some clothes on, walruses! You’re disgusting!

    Anyway, I’ve left you out this plate of self-loathing and paranoia; I hope you think about the lifestyle choices you’re making this holiday season. You have such a handsome face, it’s a shame to hide it under all that beardy fat. Also I would like a pony.

    Merry Christmas,

    KC

  12. Bwah! KC, I can’t pick which part of your letter had me laughing the hardest. Was it the “put yourself first”? The “What about the children”? The “put some clothes on, walruses”? No, I think it was the “Also I would like a pony.”

    You Shapelings are a hilarious bunch. I’m going to have a hard time pretending that I’m working, here.

  13. Thousands of cookies are spread out in a colourful feast, and guests are invited to take cookies home with them after they’ve eaten their fill.

    AND JUST THINK HOW MUCH BETTER IT WOULD HAVE BEEN WITH CARROTS AND CELERY AND SHAME!

  14. Dear Santa,

    We’ve had a good run. For the last few years, I’ve been baking for you every Christmas Eve in the hopes that your stop at my humble abode would help keep up your strength. Remember the toffee I made last year, all covered in melted milk chocolate and chopped pecans? Remember the year before, when I left out a slice of peppermint cheesecake? The slices of toasted banana bread slathered with fresh butter? Remember all of that?

    Well, I hope your memory is good, because this year, I’m heeding the advice of the Pennsylvania Medical Society and putting you on a snack plan. No more baked goods, Mr. Claus. No more flour and sugar and butter. No sir. Because it turns out, you’re fat! I’ll assume that’s news to you.

    What’s that, Santa? You’re saying you have the ability to be thinner if you want to? That you have to do it countless times over Christmas in order to fit down chimneys all across the country? That you like to jiggle? That you’re comfortable being plump and jolly? What’s this about a bowl full of jelly?

    I’m sorry, Santa, but you’re wrong. Maybe you haven’t heard, but it turns out that nothing tastes as good as thin feels. Yes, even if you live on a piece of permanently shifting sea ice where the temperature rarely gets above freezing and there are no trees for a fire. It’s better to be thin than warm. And anyway, once you’ve lost the poundage, you and the missus could move to Miami, where you can just buy presents at Target instead of employing elves. In your new spare time, you can start exercising, because you clearly don’t do that now. You’ll love it! I’m willing to help you get there, Kringle.

    So this year, you’ll find I’ve sliced up some apples–if they’re starting to brown, that’s because I did it a few hours ago. While you’ve been reading this note, I’ve also taken the liberty of stealing your reindeer. Think of how much exercise you’ll get walking from house to house! Don’t bother thanking me. I’ll take those presents we discussed–you can leave them under that pile of celery I’ve covered in lights.

    Have a wonderful night, and remember: eat to live, not live to eat!

  15. Question: Has anyone ever in the history of the world thought of cookies as an always food? I can eat more cookies than pretty much anyone I have ever met, and yet they have never been the only thing I eat, and I’ve been known to go days or even weeks without a single one.

  16. Dear Santa:

    Never mind that you do your work silently and invisibly, bringing joy to millions while trying your best to stay out of the public eye. You’re still a celebrity, and that means you owe us the right to criticize every aspect of your existence, especially your appearance.

    Also disregard the energy it must take to lift heavy bags of toys in and out of chimneys all night long. You can fuel yourself on carrots and celery if you just put your mind to it.

    In other words, straighten out and fly right, tubby!

    Muse of Ire

    P.S. If anyone in Pittsburgh neglects to read the recommendation and leaves you the wedding cookies anyway, please bring them to Philly. We don’t do that here.

  17. Dear Fat Bastard,

    I’m leaving out a lo-fat raisin bran muffin this year instead of cookies because I’m concerned about your health. And by “health” I mean weight, of course! You may not know this, but you are fat. Hugely, grossly, disgustingly fat. I’m telling you this because I love you and I don’t want you to die before your time. Yes, I know that you are, like, 600 years old, but don’t you want to be around for the next 600?? All I want for Christmas is for you to develop sufficient self-loathing and renounce your slovenly ways. It’s obvious just by looking at you that you eat too much and never exercise. Try taking the stairs instead of the chimney! Think about the children.

    xxoo,

    krismcn

  18. KC, that was amazing!

    “I’ve left you out this plate of self-loathing and paranoia” Hahaha!

    Poor disgusting walruses…

  19. Perhaps Pennsylvanians should just do like my mom, who always encouraged us to leave a glass of her favorite bourbon for Santa. ONE ice cube, thank you.

  20. Dear Santa,

    One side of my family is from Pennsylvania, and I spent a decade of my childhood there. During this decade, I was sometimes fat. This is your fault, as like all good acolytes of William Penn, I ate milk and cookies night after night while staring at my chimney, desperately hoping a fat man in a red suit would come tumbling out. It turns out, you only came once a year! Now I have trouble buying jeans. Thanks a lot, Santa.

    I would leave you some healthful rice crackers and soy cheese, but I don’t even have a chimney because I live in an apartment building. You can buzz up all you want, Santa, but I’m not gonna let you in.

    Love,
    SM (Sweet)

  21. That should be *stalking*. Kinda took the fun out of it, didn’t it?

    Phyllis, I seriously thought “staling” was new slang I’m too old to understand. So it still worked.

  22. Apple slices, left out on a plate. Yum. Nothing says lovin’ like brown slimy props from s Peter Greenaway movie.

  23. Dear Santa:

    You may perhaps be wondering why, at many of the homes you have visited tonight, your traditional treats have been replaced with wilty vegetables. I am sad to report, a fun-hating social contingent is gaining power in American society. As a show of their power, they are pressuring honest food-loving folks to starve you out for the good of the children.

    We, the beleagured resistance movement, want you to know that a loophole has been found in their dastardly scheme. Please find in place of your traditional cookies and milk, a bowl of Cookie Crisp cereal and milk. I assume you will land here some time after 12 am, making this an appropriate time to breakfast, and as everyone knows, while you can’t have cookies for breakfast, you can have Cookie Crisp.

    In gustatory solidarity,
    Bella

  24. JM – Cookies are an always food in my life. There are always cookies in the house, just as there were always cookies at home. Granted, I eat whole meals without cookies (breakfast; usually though not always lunch) but there are almost always cookies in my house, either in the cupboard or the freezer. Because, as Snarkys said, “Cookies are a sometimes food.” is the saddest food meme ever. There should always be cookies**.

    ** – if you want ‘em. If not, okay.

    I actually love me some celery sticks, but I’d rather have them AND the 26 varieties of special Christmas cookies my family makes every year, fuckyouverymuch PA Medical Society.

    DRST

  25. I am suddenly reminded of Harry Connick, Jr.’s new Christmas album and the Santariffic song, which is a duet (but I don’t know the other singer’s name). One line goes something like “Far from slender…how lucky Mrs. Claus is!” I recommend it highly as an antidote.

    All those plates of cookies, all those mugs of milk/Make my beard as white as snow, make my skin as soft as silk…

  26. KC = awesome. Can I have a pony, too?

    And I don’t think I know Hanukkah Harry’s eating habits well enough to lecture. Maybe we should cut out all the alcohol, though. I mean, not only is at sugar (CARBS!!!) but apparently the human body metabolizes alcohol as a fat.

  27. Dear Santa:
    PA Medical Society says you shouldn’t have cookies. And as you know, my mom is a cookie baking fiend. So can you do me a favor? Can you swing by my parents’ house in California and pick up a plate of cookies, then drop it off at my house here in Oregon? This is the second year in a row I’ve had to miss Christmas with them because of work, and maybe the cookies will help ease the lonlieness of being so far away.
    Love,
    Mary Sue

    (Who started writing this as a joke and is now crying. DAMNIT. Next year I’m going home for Christmas, no matter what.)

  28. Dear St. Nick,

    I must apologize for the dearth of cookies under my tree this year. I HAD planned to roll out sugar cookies with my 3-year-old and my 2-year-old, since nothing brings them more joy than coating my kitchen with flour and sticky.

    Luckily, all of the CONCERNED individuals who are WORRIED about our health have INFORMED me… that … you’re a bad, bad, fatty-fat-fatty, and so am I. My children must be “rescued” from any chance to become TEHDEATHFATZ, and therefore, we will not be leaving a snack for you.

    I know… I know… I could’ve at least left you some apples or carrots, as was suggested. However, even if you eat HEALTHY, you have to WATCH your CALOREEEES, and all those carrots eventually add up.

    Besides, we all know that you’ve been “naughty” this year, and “naughty” people don’t GET stuff. We can tell by your expanded waistline that you’ve been indulging in food and desserts and stuff.

    What’s that? You mean, you didn’t mean “naughty” that way? Well, sorry, old man, that’s the only definition that counts anymore.

    __________

    Wow, that was supposed to be light-hearted, but that last part has me depressed! Of course, I actually WILL be baking sugar cookies with my kids, as planned. :)

  29. Faith, your letter was hilarious. Nothing more can top it in the Hanukkah category, from addressing it to Rabbi Hillel as the “Father Hanukkah” figure to peeing out the ketones. :)

  30. Dear Santa,

    Instead of leaving you foodstuffs, which would clearly be enabling and inappropriate, I’ve decided to invite you to my family’s Christmas meal. All of the women in my family will spend hours cooking and then, once we sit down to eat, everyone will have a competition to see who can proclaim “I’m sooo stuffed, I never eat this much!” first.

    I think I started losing this competition at age 3. Don’t worry, if you don’t want to play I’m sure someone will be more than willing to give you the stinkeye with every bite of food you eat!

    love,
    Ildeth

    P.S. Can you please bring me an Amazon gift certificate this year? It’s so much easier than returning everything!

  31. Dear Santa,
    I care about you and that’s why this year, instead of cookies and milk, I’m leaving you some carrot sticks and a cup of non-fat cottage cheese. Millions of children around the world adore you, but they don’t need a role model, not a fat-roll model. Have you ever thought about? When was the last time you went to the doctor? Have you been pre-screened for diabetes? Do you know what your cholesterol levels are? I’m shocked that Mrs. Claus, who purports to love you, is still serving you all those fattening, buttery, sugary, lardy meals. You don’t happen to have a life insurance policy, do you? LOL. J/K. One thing you ought to consider is moving to France, where people don’t get fat. And may I recommend thinner elves?

    Also, I just read in the paper that the manufacturer of your Santa suits is cutting out their plus size collection to save costs – just one more good reason to drop the weight! True, you may have an okay face, but nobody wants to see you naked! What people want is the whole package, Santa – you can still be your jolly self without the terrifying 52 inch waist.

    p.s. I’m leaving you a copy of the current Men’s Health magazine.

  32. Actually I believe ‘staling’ is something horses do. A staling horse is a horse that is taking a wee, though in their case it is generally not ‘wee’ but rather on the copious side, which is I assume why horses get their own special word for it.

    So, um, ick, Mr. Santa.

  33. “Perhaps Pennsylvanians should just do like my mom, who always encouraged us to leave a glass of her favorite bourbon for Santa. ONE ice cube, thank you.”

    I grew up in Pennsylvania and I remember at least one year we set out bourbon for Santa. Because warm bourbon isn’t as nasty as warm milk.

  34. I just really had to express my solidarity with A Sarah as a fellow celery hater. I love pretty much all veggies except raw celery and carrots. Maybe because they were forced on me as “healthy snacks” when I was little. Blech.

  35. Celery to me is like onion. You don’t just sit around munching on it raw. It’s a flavoring veggie – it goes in soups and stir fries. If I find myself munching on a celery stalk, I feel like any second I’m going to start shooting bunnies out of my ass. Just my $0.02!

  36. Dear Pennsylvania Medical Society,

    You have all just officially made the BAD LIST. Nothing but lumps of coal and switches for all of you.

    For your information, cookies and milk have the magic I need to FLY thank you very much! I burn it all away just taking off from the roof! I cannot sustain the power to stay in the air without them. Have you ever tried to fly around the world on celery and carrot sticks?? NO? Of course not, nobody can do that! I have no idea how I’m going to make my run this Christmas thanks to you!

    Next time mind your own business.

    SANTA

  37. Santa’s like, a thousand years old. Obviously his all cookie diet is working….

    Actually I believe ’staling’ is something horses do. A staling horse is a horse that is taking a wee, though in their case it is generally not ‘wee’ but rather on the copious side, which is I assume why horses get their own special word for it.

    As a lifelong horse lover…this is pretty much true. Staling = the relaxing of the male horse’s bits. Basically, letting it all hang out, if you will.

  38. Dear Santa,

    I have, since early childhood, left a glass of scotch for you, having been informed that by the time you get to my house you’ve had enough cookies. I have no intention stopping.

    Thanks for the pony.

  39. Dear Santa,

    Please be advised that my roof is not rated for a fictitious man of your side or your imaginary reindeer. In the event your fat ass damages my roof, I will sue you for every fucking toy in that sleigh plus all the toys made in your workshop from now until infinity. Also, I did not sweep my chimney this year with the economy being as it is. You slid down that bad boy at your own risk and any damages incurred by me are your liability. Also, the stains on your suit – not my fault.

    I was good as is required and I expect that no gifts will be broken. I’d have left you cookies, but you’re fat enough to warrant me telling you to stay off my roof. Instead, I’ve made a donation in your name to the PA Medical Society.

    Respectfully yours,

    DW

    PS – pick up your reindeer’s shit before you leave my roof.

  40. We always left Santa some Buckeye candies, which are smaller than cookies but probably a hell of a lot more dense. Obviously our offering of 5 candies to mom the Jolly Old Elf was a plot to destroy him through fatness.

    Mom Santa doesn’t deserve anything for all the hard work she put into making the holiday nice, not even a few sweet treats by way of thanks.

    (I hope I don’t have html fail.)

  41. Dear Santa,

    I’m worried about you. The PA Medical Society has alerted me to your tragic, life-threatening condition. You see Santa (and I don’t really know how to break it to you), you are quite fat. Overweight, even. (I mean, I don’t know EXACTLY what your weight SHOULD be, but clearly you are over it. I CAN TELL.) I know that you probably don’t realize it – after all, you, like most poor fat slobs, probably think you look FINE. But you don’t.

    And I know you probably don’t read the paper – who has time, with all those cookies and baby doughnuts you’re shoving in your piehole? – but being fatfatfat means that you will almost certainly get teh diabeetus and DIE. I know, I know: it’s scary.

    I know all that sounds harsh Santa, but I’m only saying it because I CARE. Now, the PA Medical Society has recommended that I put out only healthy snacks for you. But frankly, you already look like you’re carrying several Christmases worth of snacks around your waist there. I figure you can live off of those for a year or two. What I HAVE provided you with (because I CARE) are some pamphlets. You’ll notice a Weight Watchers brochure (I even circled the meeting location closest to the North Pole), along with some information on weight loss surgery (I circled locations near you in that one, too).

    I really love you, Santa. And I’ll never feed you anything with carbs or fat again, because even if YOU don’t care about your health, *I* do. (Also, you might consider leaving Mrs. Claus. Clearly, she’s not performing her wimminz work properly, or else she’d be feeding you healthier food, and YOU’D BE THINNER. Are you sure she isn’t trying to secretly kill you with cookies? Food for thought – pun intended.)

    Love and kisses (but not the chocolate kind, because food will never fill that hole in your heart),
    Marste

  42. Dear Mr. Claus,

    In lieu of cookies, candy, or anything containing carbohydrates or sugar, instead I am leaving you reading material pertaining to gastric bypass and lapband surgery. I think you’ll find that as the pounds fly off (much like your reindeer hurr hurr hurr), you’ll realize that being thin far outweighs (GEDDIT) the massive nutritional deficiency you’ll suffer as a result. Never you mind the loss of your robustness, the calcium that’ll leech from your bones, the laundry list of complications, or that silly little percentage about how the surgery might very well result in you taking a one-way sleigh ride into the sky!

    Do let us know ASAP if you’d like to schedule a consultation with one of our very super-skilled bariatric surgeons. They’re happy to help you…HELP YOU.

    X X OOO

    The American Society for Metabolic and Bariatric Surgery

  43. Dear Pennsylvania Medical Society,

    You know that Weird Al song, ‘The Night Santa Went Crazy’? You don’t? Then maybe you should have a listen and take that as a cautionary tale. Just sayin’.

    No damn love,
    Ren

    Dear Santa,

    I’m making almond-rose sugar cookies this year. I know how much energy it takes to stay warm up where you live, much less fly around the entire world in one night, so I’ll set out a batch for you.

    Hearts,
    Ren

  44. Dear Santa,

    I don’t get all this diet talk. Please find the usual Miller Lite, Wisconsin colby cheese, and Town House crackers left at our house the last 30 years. Actually, you know what? How about a holiday spice microbrew instead of the Miller Lite. If there’s any left in the morning, I’ll know you prefer the flavor of Miller Lite and return to that next year.

    TG

  45. dear shamanic bacon eating buddha goddess,
    dont eat bacon. it makes you fat.
    dont worship the universe and yourself as it is, be more unhappy. starting now. but dont get stuck in the now. instead focus on the past and how much it sucked. also if your thoughts wander, make plans. just don’t be here. its not a good place.
    dont wear warm socks and cuddle w other humans. they might have germs. you might too.
    don’t wear clothing you like. squeeze yourself into gender appropriate clothing and look in the mirror a lot.
    dont practice compassion. instead, focus on how to be more judgmental, angry, and unhappy in each moment.
    don’t listen to your intuition. ignore it.
    also, have a dreadful holiday season.
    love,
    lioness

  46. In my very Pennsylvania German household, Santa’s preferred snack was pretzels, cheese, and beer (left in the fridge, because of course Santa would read the note and how can you eat pretzels without beer, anyway?). Not unrelatedly, I usually got quite the haul.

  47. Dear Santa,

    Let’s face it, you’re a lardass. Yep, you heard me right. Lardass. Nothing good could ever come from that fact. It doesn’t matter that you send kids the moral message that their hard work will be rewarded on Christmas. Who cares if you inspire others to give to others? What does it matter if you probably get one hell of a workout lugging around a frickin HUGE sack of toys (and coal) all over the world?

    YOU. ARE. FAT. And according to society, as a fat person, you are not allowed the following:

    -Eat
    -Have a positive self image, self esteem or self concept
    -Be successful
    -Have a love life
    -Have a sex life
    -Buy or wear nice clothing ANYWHERE

    Because of this, you need to change. No more cookies for you sir. No no no no no. Instead, we are leaving you a present: An all expense paid, lifetime subscription to the Lighter Life diet, where you are SURE to lose weight on only 530 calories a day.

    Love, PlusSizedFeminist.

    P.S. Aside from all the all the crap the Anti-Fat Brigade has been putting out there, I’d never ever do that to ya!! The red velvet cake is in the fridge, next to the milk.

  48. I used to live next door to the most awesome 94 year old woman (who lived alone, not even with a care taker or other helper). She would pick flowers from my mother’s garden, feed the other neighbor’s dog her “Meals on Wheels” meal (except the dessert), and she had a baby grand piano. She dressed up in all her finest jeweleries every day, thought I was my mother’s mother, had all her original teeth, and stopped by everyday for us to turn on Lawrence Welk.

    She was the most awesome woman I knew when I was 14.

    She lived on cookies and Ovaltine (and her weekly banana pudding). And she lived in PA.

    Huh, PA Medical board!? Huh! Really!!

    (epilogue: As human bodies are only to live for a finite period, she did reach a point where she needed to enter a home. She passed one year later. We were all very sad. I took some things from her house, including an awesome satin purple throw pillow. I still love her and her cookie eating ways. I only hope to be half as awesome as she was, but her life story is a wholnother post.)

  49. I just want to thank all of you for making my day! I had been feeling guilty for eating all the treats my kids brought me (I’m a band director), and I really needed to snap out of that. Now I’m off to enjoy some Indian food to go on top of all those Christmas cookies!

  50. This one’s a little early; I hope you’ll forgive me.

    Dear Valentine’s Day Mouse,

    Now, granted, I made you up when I was eight because I knew that if I told my parents that I believed in some new holiday supercritter who leaves Valentine’s Day candy for all the children of the land, they would HAVE to throw together some candy-related ruse for my benefit. And granted, also, you are a mouse.

    Still, you should be ashamed of yourself. You’re probably one of those obesity experiment mice, aren’t you, fatass? One of those lab mice that got the whoseamawhatsis and gained 13 percent more body fat, on average, than the control group. You know what? I hope you get caught in a no-kill trap and have to scritter and scratch and pray and hope that some very nice little girl sees you and takes pity on you. Which she will, but not before looking at you IN A SCOLDING FASHION for being such a candy-dealing obesity mouse of high-fructose DEATH.

    Honestly, you’re impossible. Oh, and PLUS, knowing YOU, you won’t even turn out to be a fairy godmother who’s been trapped in a mouse’s body, and who, in gratitude for having been rescued, takes me-I-mean-the-girl to a magical land where nobody picks on the dorky girls who read all the time. So suck it, made up Valentine’s Candy Death Mouse! Suck! It! I swear, I’ve had it up to here with you. Here’s a crappy fold-and-tear Valentine that I got last year, on which I’ve scratched out my name in the “To” field and written in “UNSATISFACTORY MOUSE.” Now just GO, okay? Just… just… leave the candy on the night table and GO! (Are there any coconut cremes in there?)

  51. @Renatus — Did you say almond rose sugar cookies? Is that real, or did you just string together a bunch of words for wonderful things?

  52. I don’t gain weight over the holiday season because I eat what I like all the time! Including but not limited to delicious cookies. Mm, cookies all year.

    Okay uhm…
    Dear Santa,
    I made you non-existent carrot sticks so you don’t put on 1.4 pounds of non-existent weight on your non-existent form. No, you don’t need to thank me.
    Love,
    Ultrapeach.

  53. Actually I believe ’staling’ is something horses do. A staling horse is a horse that is taking a wee, though in their case it is generally not ‘wee’ but rather on the copious side, which is I assume why horses get their own special word for it.

    As a lifelong horse lover…this is pretty much true. Staling = the relaxing of the male horse’s bits. Basically, letting it all hang out, if you will.

    So sorry for the typo. More than you know.

    Dear Santa,

    Just between us, nothing tastes as good as thin feels.

    Toodles

  54. Dear Santa:

    Forget all those other people, and come on holiday with me.
    I will feed you sweet potato pie and offer you a silver chalice for your eggnog.
    We will avoid all those other people who sound disturbingly like my nuclear (literally) and extended families, as they moralize around the mouthful of cornbread, unfiltered cig, Scotch glasses, and reality TV — and my don’t those crumbs together with the “shoulds” make an interesting mess — and you can split the presents with me.

    Also, I’ve been told I do a mean “Eartha Kitt’s ‘Santa Baby'” impression.

    kisses,
    littlem

  55. Dear Mrs. Santa,

    Honestly, your husband has made no progress this year in weight loss. Haven’t you been keeping him to a proper diet? I don’t care that it’s impossible to grow anything green at the North Pole except kale, and that only during the summer. You should really be feeding him better than this. I hope you’ve given him the proper instructions to avoid any sweets and whole milk those health-hating children might leave him during his Christmas travels. If you want him to stay around for another century or two, you’d better get him to buckle down.

    Pennsylvania Medical Society Auxiliary

  56. Celery is part of the mirepoix, which goes in the bottom of the gumbo and — well, everything else. Everybody knows that. Laissez les bon temps roulez.

    DW, you are dangerous. I’m sending you Special Delivery to my aunt’s, I think.

  57. Dear Santa,

    Please, take a seat, there’s something we need to talk about.
    I hope you’ll appreciate that this isn’t easy for us, but we care about you, we really do, so we felt the need to bring this to your attention.

    Sigh. Look, you know you’re not getting any younger and, while you’re in terrific shape for your age, could stand to make a few changes to your lifestyle.

    Yes, your generosity is legendary, no one can fault you for that, but how good a role model are you really being for the youth of today?

    You don’t file flight plans, you blatantly violate speed limits – just because no one can catch you doesn’t mean it’s big or clever – and I shudder to think how many sherries you drink while in charge of a reindeer-drawn sleigh!

    And, well, let’s not beat about the bush, but you don’t lead a very healthy lifestyle, do you? All those cookies and mince pies and chocolate and cake? Those sherries we mentioned? Furthermore, adults really have no business drinking milk, and do you realise how bad those sodas are? All that sugar! I’m afraid the ‘Jolly Fat Man’ image is rather frowned upon these days, you know.

    Oh yes, of course delivering presents all around the world is good exercise, but you don’t really do it very often, do you? Only a few days in the entire year. Perhaps you should adopt a more frequent exercise regime.

    Yes, yes, I understand that you’re busy overseeing the elves in the workshop, not to mention keeping atop of current trends in popular toys, and of course all that ‘making a list, checking it twice,’ business, but you could at least make the effort.

    So we’ve decided to make some changes, but we’re sure you’ll love them. Here, instead of milk, or sherry, we thought you’d enjoy a nice smoothie as part of your five-a-day. Hmm? No, no, those carrots aren’t for Rudolph, they’re all yours, dig in!

  58. In Spain, children traditionally get their presents from the Three Wise Men who visited Baby Jesus on the evening of January 5th – although, thanks to American movies, Santa is rapidly gaining control of the out-of-nowhere-present-bringing market. Anyway, tradition dictates that kids leave a bucket of water for the camels, and three glasses of liquor for the Wise Men, accompanied by some sugary, christmassy snacks. This is what the adults usually eat and drink at 3 am while they put together flat-pack toys, wrap smaller gifts, insert batteries, read instructions and so on, in preparation for the following morning. The Three Wise Men ALWAYS nibble on the snacks, empty the glasses, and sometimes even leave a thank you note! I’m telling you now, hypothetical future children of mine: a plate of crudités will NOT get you a thank you note.

  59. Sorry about that Phyllis. But thinking icky gross thoughts is totally a weight-loss tip, right? We should pass it on to Santa.

    I myself just came back from making–wait for it–COOKIES. Cocoa chocolate chip meringues, to be precise.

    Is it okay if this thread ends up with some recipe swapping? Because now I think I absolutely must know how to make almond rose sugar cookies.

  60. Well, then the Easter Bunny is gonna need one, too

    On it!!!

    Dear Easter Bunny,

    You thought we forgot about you, didn’t we? Oh no no no, we didn’t forget about you, you fuzzy, enabling miscreant!!! Don’t think you’re going to get off that easy!

    How DARE you make our children fat!!! You and your chocolate eggs! Don’t you know how HARMFUL this is? Our children will gain 1.4 pounds a YEAR because of this!!! And do you know what that means? DO YOU?!?!

    Diabetes!!!
    Heart Disease!!!
    DETHFATZ!!!!

    It’s bad enough that you bring Fat Tuesday as your predecessor, with its diabetes inducing paczkis!!!!

    We cannot, in good conscience, allow your tyranny of obesity to continue. You will also receive the lifetime supply of Lighter Life.

    A concerned fatty, PlusSizedFeminist

  61. The REAL Nightmare Before Christmas
    -or-
    A Visit From a Disappointed St. Nicholas.

    Preface:

    From the desk of the editors of the Troy, NY, Sentinal.

    Dec. 12, 1823

    Dear Clement Clark Moore (Or Henry Livingston):

    Thank you for submitting your amusing holiday poem to us. We much enjoyed your tale of St. Nicholas’s visit to your home. However, before we print this in our paper during the week of Christmas, please consider accepting the following edits. We make these suggestions for change in your content on the advice of the Medical Association of the State of Pennsylvania, who are actually a bunch of weasles, and need to be taught a lesson.

    We Remain Your Obedient Servants,

    The Editors

    Text of Poem, With Suggested Edits.

    T’was the night before Christmas, and all through the house
    Not a creature was dining, not even a mouse
    The diet books were placed on the bookshelves with care
    And diet candy boxes set out for us to all share.

    The children were nestled all snug in their beds.
    While fantasies of thinness all danced in their heads.
    And I in my kerchief and papa in his cap.
    Had just settled down for an unsatisfying snack.

    When down in the kitchen there arose such a clatter.
    I sprang from the recliner to see what was the matter.
    Away to the ground floor I flew like a flash.
    Tore open the fridge door, and emmitted a gasp.
    I gazed on the virtuously small portions of cookies we’d made.
    To sub for the the past year’s delicacy parade.

    When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
    But a widely grinning fat man, with a smile ear to ear
    With a box of Godiva’s so shiny and slick
    I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

    His eyes — how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
    His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
    His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
    And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

    The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
    And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
    He had a broad face and a little round belly,
    That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
    He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

    And I gasped when I saw him, in spite of myself;
    With more passion than sense I let loose some fatz shame
    And concern-trolled and hectored, and listed by name
    “Now, Snackwells, now Weight Watchers! Now Slimfast (two shakes, then!).
    On, Treadmills, on Slimlife, on Lifestyles A-Changin’!
    Till you’re acceptably thin! And impress the Penn MA!
    Put down those damn chocolates and choose a new lifeway!”

    With a tear in his eye and a hang of his head,
    He soon gave me to know he had heard what I’d said.
    He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
    And glared at the cut apples we set out like some jerks.

    And laying his middle finger aside of his nose,
    And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
    He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
    And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
    But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

    “Fuck you, Pennsylvania Medical Association!
    I believe in Health At Every Size.”

  62. You know, if i were a parent, i’d be very worried if my child only gained 1.4 pounds a year. Especially in the event of a windstorm.

  63. Dear Santa,
    In light of the layoff notice that I received yesterday, despite being a very very good girl, I am not leaving you my usual cookies and world’s best biscotti. Instead, I’m saving my goodies for my coworkers (who are in the same boat as I am) and the hottie I’ve had my eye on.
    In lieu of biscotti, I’m leaving you some nast gas-inducing lo-carb Atkins snacks..they’d been gathering dust since I’ve discovered HAES and Shapely Prose. I also want to let you know that my brother, who is the proud owner of a Santa suit, and the physique to match, has been doing his best to ruin your reputation with his Santa-clad debauchery.
    Please make sure to leave me beter gifts next year,
    Luv,
    -annimal

  64. Nomie, we used to put out carrots too. (Now that I think about it, I suspect they went right back into the vegetable drawer in the fridge after the cookies were eaten by Santa. Santa believes in saving carrots because sometimes Santa has to make a salad later in the week and Santa can’t be having with all that damn shopping.)

  65. Dear Santa,
    I have decided to wait up for you this year so I can give you the news face to face…..turn around slowly, and don’t look me in the eye because fatties like you don’t deserve respectful human contact. Be sure to watch my body language (that includes taking a step backward away from you, a sneer on my lips, and a face full of disgust) as it will deliver the blow to your self esteem with the necessary disapproval and shame needed to sufficiently transform you from human being to monster in nanoseconds.

    Now that your eyes are cast downward and you have your life sustaining defenses up, I can give you the news you so obviously are unaware of disguised as genuine concern. Here goes……Santa. You’re Fat. Yes, I know, you didn’t see this coming and had not a clue that you had reached such a revulsive corpulent state of TEH DEATH FATZ, but you need someone to tell you this at every house you visit tonight. You see, we have all been fed a sizable dose of TEHOBESITYEPIDEMIC KOOLAID daily for a number of years now, and we clones have been given our orders to do whatever it takes to make you thin. We have worked our magic on the Cookie Monster, who now only consumes cookies in “moderation” and pairs them with a “balanced diet and exercise” regularly. He is still pudgy, but just wait until we get an even skinnier hand up his ass! (Kate Moss isn’t available until after the holidays).

    Wait Santa, it gets worse. From this point on, all the food you eat will have a morality clause attached to it. Fruits and vegetables have the most morality per bite, followed by legumes, whole grains, and finally lean (but only lean) meats in serving sizes that will only satisfy the mice that made Cinderella’s dress. Saturated fats, fried foods, fast food, breaded things, candy, cookies, white rice, chocolate, sugar, and basically every other food that actually tastes good, has the least amount of morals and will drag you straight to hell should any of them pass your lips. You have been warned, Santa. If you imbibe of these “forbidden foods”, your suit will be changed from a jolly red to grim reaper black and all children will be ordered to kick you squarely in the crotch at first sight.

    If you follow the strict guidelines laid out by the omniscient medical community, you will reap the following rewards:

    The healthy glow of your cheeks will be replaced with the much more attractive “sunken eyes and hollow faced” look that Photoshop makes look so attractive.

    The twinkle in your eyes will turn from sparkling to sallow

    The bowl full of jelly tummy will become a six pack fully enhanced with strategically placed makeup and shadowing for definition (it doesnt have to be real, just LOOK real).

    Your sweet disposition will be replaced by grumpiness (see Snow White for exact details), hunger pangs, tiredness, mental confusion, lack of concentration, possible heart palpitations, and weakness. You are required to wear that disposition proudly as it boosts your morality score because you are “Living the lifestyle change” and making statements such as “I couldn’t eat another bite!” or “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels” 497 times a day while participating in 3 hours of rigorous exercise 7 days a week.

    Lastly, your “Ho Ho Ho” will now be “NO! NO! NO!” to every single food that does not lie at the top of the food morality scale. Children and pets will thank you for that change because they don’t hear that enough in their lifetime. Bonus points for saying it while blaming yourself for global warming, the recession, the death of all cute puppies and kitties, (along with the rise in popularity of the dreaded coconut crab).

    Finally Santa, if you find yourself unable to comply with the food requirements and exercise restrictions we have placed on you, we will be forced to give you the “Easy Way Out”……Gastric Bypass Surgery. This procedure will reduce the size of your jolly stomach to that of an egg, reroute your intestinal tract and make you incapable of absorbing sufficient nutrients required to live. You will be unable to stuff your stomach, develop shakes and tremors from dumping syndrome when you eat morally wrong food, require fists full of vitamins daily just to sustain your life, become dehydrated easily and often, become weak, anemic, develop various infections, and ultimately die….but that’s the price you have to pay, Santa. You’re just gonna have to deal with it.

    Now…drop the presents, stuff your fat ass back up that chimney, and don’t even THINK about stuffing a cookie in your mouth EVER again. You will thank me for this one day….I promise.

    Signed,

    Regina T.
    You resident Concern Troll

  66. I will be waiting on the roof of a Christian neighbor with an RPG launcher on Christmas Eve, so honestly Santa might want to do whatever he can to present a narrower profile.

  67. Dear Santa:

    I wish I still believed in you. After my unfeeling oldest brother (then 12) told me you didn’t exist at the tender age of 6, I have not set cookies out for you at all. Turns out, I was right, because you’re a fatass who needs to get on a treadmill, tubbo, and is a bad example for children. This year I am going to put a lock on my fridge so you can’t get at the pumpkin pie I’m making. Or better yet, I’ll give you a slice of low-fat pudding pie (made with skim milk and almost entirely tasteless). Or maybe some nice muesli, made with fat free yogurt and skim milk and no fruit at all (because all that fresh fruit has so much SUGAR) instead of how I usually make it with rich yogurt and 2% milk and fresh blackberries and bananas.

    Also, can you please give the PA medical association a clue about how people gain weight in the winter to keep them warm, and has less to do with how much they eat than their bodies going “wait we need to put a thin layer of fat on this so we don’t freeze to death” which is why most people lose it quickly come spring? Thanks.

    Also, if you don’t mind, I would like a doctor’s visit for Christmas. It’s been two years since I had insurance, and while I technically have it now through my current job, said job doesn’t pay me enough for me to actually afford the $50 copay for a doctor’s visit as well as the $60 copay for my acid reflux medications which I will likely get prescribed at said doctor’s visit. Thank you.

  68. - – – – – kids, cut this out and put it under your pillow! – – – – –
    Dear Tooth Fairy,
    You probably don’t think you’re doing anything wrong, taking teeth from under pillows and doing whatever it is you do with them (really weird, though, when you think about what you MIGHT be doing with them) and leaving money under the pillow.
    You are making a big mistake. You, madam, are responsible for corrupting our nation’s youth.
    Here are some of the things that children are likely to spend their coins on:
    Cheap plastic toys that can be purchased at the supermarket
    Comic Books
    Sweetened, fat-enhanced coffee drinks from Starbucks
    Potato Chips (not homemade)
    Porn
    Cigarettes
    Alcohol
    Heroin
    Meth
    and, worst of all,
    Cookies, Candy, snack cakes and other foods containing, yes, Sugar.

    Yes, you, Tooth Fairy, are contributing to tooth decay. No, not of the particular tooth you just snatched from under the pillow. And it’s probably too late to save the rest of the teeth about to fall out. I’m talking about the teeth to come, not to mention the body they reside in.

    To make it easier on you in the future to prevent ruining the future leaders of our country with dental carries and flabby bodies (the Meth and tobacco, especially the chewing kind, can be kind of hard on the teeth, too) I have provided this shopping list of things you could leave under the pillow instead of cash, which neither you nor the child’s parents have any control over how they spend it.

    Be sure to pick up:
    Dental floss
    Mouthwash (the alcohol-free kind, of course)
    Toothpaste (not the new-fangled gel kind, either)
    A new washcloth or plastic tumbler for the bathroom
    A coupon good for one hug from mom or dad
    Sugar-free gum, but only the stick kind that loses its flavor quickly, in the child’s least favorite flavor, so as not to develop a liking for gum and moving on to the hard stuff, like Bazooka.
    U.S. Savings Bonds (kids love ‘em)!

    Although I’ve never seen you, Tooth Fairy, I imagine you could stand to lose a few pounds. Have you been finding it harder to fly lately? You might want to switch to skim milk and lay off of the sugar plums. Also, when kids stop believing in you? That’s your own damn fault for not being magical enough.

    Love,
    The U.S. Treasury, in partnership with the American Dental Association

  69. Also, thank you all of you who pointed out that Santa hasn’t keeled over from fatness after all this time.
    I’ve never had a visit from Santa (as far as I know) being Jewish and all, but from where I sat, the cookies and milk looked like a payoff. What kind of a bribe is carrots and skim milk? Coal is what I would expect if that’s what I left for Santa.

  70. First In a Series of Lost Drafts
    (A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens)

    …They were a boy and a girl. portly, chubby, lazy, scowling, wolfish; but prostrate, too, in their shame. Where graceful youth should have given them litheness and athleticism, and touched them with its freshest tints, a pudgy, grossly dimpled hand, like that of a headless fattty, had bloated, and twisted them, and puffed them into marshmallows.

    Where angels might have sat enthroned, devils lurked, and glared out menacing. No change, no degradation, no perversion of humanity, in any grade, through all the mysteries of wonderful creation, has monsters half so horrible and dread.

    ‘Spirit, are they yours?’ Scrooge could say no more.

    ‘They are Man’s,’ said the Spirit, looking down upon them. ‘And they cling to me, appealing from their fathers. This boy is Deathfatz. This girl is Obesity Epidemic Booga Booga. Beware them both, and all of their degree, but most of all beware this boy, for on his brow I see that written which is Doom, unless the writing be erased. Deny it!’ cried the Spirit, stretching out its hand towards the city. ‘Slander those who tell it ye! Admit it for your factious purposes, and make it worse! And abide the end!’

    ‘Have they no refuge or resource?’ cried Scrooge.

    ‘Are there no gym classes?’ said the Spirit, turning on him for the last time with his own words. ‘Are there no ways of exercising self control?’

    The bell struck twelve.

  71. Dear Santa,
    I just read an article that tells me you are a modern manifestation of the Saturnalian wild man of ancient times. Because of this, I have a whole new outlook on Christmas. I know that by now you’ve heard the news that some people have been instructed not to leave you the customary milk and cookies. I think they’re right Santa. I think what we need here is some serious booze and a PLATTER of the above mentioned morally repugnant foods. That, plus your sleigh, plus me wearing my ninja outfit with the anarchy symbol and I say you and I got a PARTY. Let’s find those who have been brainwashed by this “no milk and cookies” hogwash and show them how to get down like the true pagan wild man you represent and they’ll forget all about milk and cookies. They’ll want in on our, what’s that called – ohyeahFUN!
    -CoryBetty

  72. Dear Mr. Claus,

    We apologize for the inconvenience, but due to a change in policy, we can no longer provide milk and cookies. Please accept this vegetable platter and mineral water in their stead. I do hope that despite the new policies, we can continue doing business.

    Sincerely,
    Jordi H.

    (I was going for a form letter-esque feel)

  73. Dear Santa,

    Congratulations on your starring role in the British Journal of Medicine Christmas Edition – just a shame it was for all the wrong reasons. I have therefore left out for you a Weight Watchers calorie counter booklet (that’s OK, you don’t need to thank me – I’m not using it). I’ve also left you a chart telling you which foods are high in cholesterol (avoid prawns, squirrels and brains) and which are high in fibre because let’s face it, you are probably constipated with your usual diet. As a bonus, a brochure for Al-Anon (we all know you little secret vice) and a packet of nicotine gum to help you quit smoking that pipe.

    Here’s a Slim-Fast Choc-cherry meal replacement bar (but don’t excited, it’s carob not really chocolate) and that is ALL you should eat tonight – if you eat ANYONE else’s snacks I’ll be very disappointed in you.

    Elizabby

    PS – my kids are too young but I won’t be telling them about you anyway.

  74. Celery is part of the mirepoix, which goes in the bottom of the gumbo and — well, everything else. Everybody knows that. Laissez les bon temps roulez.

    Dammit, now I’m craving gumbo!

    Dear non-existent future children,

    If you’d like “Santa” to leave you extra goodies under the tree, skip the cookies and put out a huge bowl of gumbo. And cornbread, Santa demands cornbread.

  75. AnthroK8 – you are evil. I am literally crying with laughter over here.

    ♪♫ “I’m allllliiiiiiiive – and sooooo are yooOOOouuu!!” ♪♫

  76. Dear Santa,

    I know that here in the UK we normally leave you a mince pie and a glass of sherry, but now I’m really worried. Cookies are bad enough, but do you *know* how many calories there are in a mince pie? And real mincemeat is made with *lard*, which as everyone knows is evil (and not even vegetarian). But wait, it’s worse, not only are we making you fat, we’re encouraging you to drink and drive reindeer, and in such dreadful weather when no-one should go out unless it’s an actual emergency. It must STOP. This year you get a diet coke (we know you like those, you’re in the adverts) and a very low fat yogurt with artificial sweetener instead of sugar. You know you love it. And no hangover!

    Wishing you lots of love,
    Ellie

    PS don’t forget to bring us a box of chocolates, just because *you’re* dieting does mean I am.

  77. Hi Santa,
    It’s Paintmonkey here. I’m going to leave a different snack arrangement for you this year, and hope you don’t mind. Normally I leave fruit cake and sherry for you, and carrots out for the reindeers as you’ll remember, but this year I’ve decided against all fruit and vegetables and am instead going for something random yet pointed. I’ve decided I will festoon the garden with sausages, chocolate and fries, and arrange them to spell out, “Park the Pony and expensive make-up here, you Fat Bastard”, but in a festive jolly way . So please don’t be offended, I mean it in a kind and advisory way.
    Apparently you are now officially too fat and are no longer a good example to us. Oh, I know, I know, you are relentlessly kind and upbeat, and remember to visit us all and love us unconditionally and all that , but Santa, you are FAT, the foulest of crimes.

    Mmnnn. Not really. I’m not however going to say what my real letter to Santa said because then he might not come, and I have been very good ALL year.

    Wishing you all a brilliant Christmas – hope the lovely Santa comes to see you all, and we all get ponies and lemurs and cakes and lovely things, and I hope none of us get embroided scented coathangers or initialled handkerchiefs meant for maiden aunts.

    Merry Christmas Shapelings!!!!

  78. I’m just gonna take the rage at the fattist troll I’ve been arguing with all night out on this one. Oh, and by “arguing” I mean him saying the same old shit we’ve all heard a bajillion times, and me telling him to go fuck himself with something sandpapery. Asterisks indicate sentences this moron has actually typed this evening.

    Dear Santa,

    May I call you Nick? Listen, Nick. I know it’s somewhat normal for people to gain weight as they age, and gee, you must be getting close to that old two-triple-zero, but we’ve got to talk. See, you’re fat, and it is my duty as someone who sees other people’s bodies as public property to tell you that FAT! KILLS! ZOMG. Being fat and thinking that you’re okay, is not okay!* Fatness is teh evul. Srsly. So, I’m leaving you some delicious low carb skinless chicken. Because that is diabetic diet friendly, and as we know, all fat people have diabetes. I’m doing you a favor here, Nick. Because if we let diabetics think they were normal, they would eat sugar and die.* You may think you’re doing well, because you’ve made it this long without any major health issues to speak of, but, Nick, the VAST MAJORITY* of fat people are fat because they are lazy people* who eat too much and don’t exercise enough.*

    Now, about those presents. We gonna come through on a new sewing machine?

    (That totally deserves a stocking full of coal. Or reindeer poops.)

  79. Dear Father Christmas,

    I must explain the change in snack arrangements. As you know, in previous years we have put out a mince pie and a tot of sweet sherry for you, and a carrot for the reindeer. But I read in the newspaper that mince pies cause obesity and heart attacks and cancer and diabetes and bad feet and misery and friendlessness and poverty and social breakdown and cost the NHS billions of pounds in treatment for heart attacks and cancer and diabetes and bad feet and then we would have no money and the obese children who grow up to be the next generation would all be fat and miserable with terrible feet and they couldn’t get a job and then where would we be! So if I give you a mince pie it might be very bad for our country and everyone in it, at least according to the newspaper.

    So, anyway. In the newspaper it said that raw fruit and vegetables were the sort of thing we should all eat, and it said I should leave you a carrot. Well, I was going to leave a carrot anyway, for the reindeer, so that’s good news, means I don’t have to do any more shopping. Oh, when I did the shopping I bought mince pies (this was before I read in the newspaper that they were such a bad thing! D’oh!), and since I can’t give them to you I wasn’t sure what I should do with them. So I left one out anyway. You can give it to the reindeer, since they won’t be getting their carrot.

    I hope this isn’t too confusing. I suppose you and the reindeer can sort it out between yourselves.

    Lots of love,

    the hedgehogs

  80. @A Sarah – Haha, real! I’m not sure what cookie I’ll use as a base, yet, but I’m going to replace some of the flour with ground almonds and use sugar that’s had (food safe) rosebuds imparting their rosy goodness in a sealed jar for the past year. I may grind some of the rosebuds up to put into the dough as well.

    If I use a sugar cookie recipe, I’ll use rose sugar and chopped almonds as the topping. :D

  81. Whoops, just saw your request, Thalia. I don’t have a recipe as such, I usually just take whatever basic cookie recipe looks appealing to me and add things to it or swap one ingredient for another. I haven’t tried this particular set of ingredients yet, but it won’t hurt to write out what I’m going to do, right? :D I’m pretty sure it’ll work fine.

    This is based on the Mrs. Sigg’s Snickerdoodles recipe on Allrecipes, but heavily tweaked to be all sugar-cookie-y instead, work with ingredients I can find here in Finland, and for extra deliciousness.

    1 cup of regular salted butter
    1 1/2 cups of white sugar
    2 eggs, preferably at room temperature
    2 tsp rosewater (I haven’t been able to find any, so I’ve got sugar infused with rosebuds. I suspect rosewater gives the best flavour, though)
    2 cups of all-purpose flour
    3/4 cup ground almonds
    (Ground food-safe dried rosebuds, which give it more flavour and pretty pink flecks)
    2 tsp baking powder
    1 tsp baking soda
    (1/4 tsp salt if you use unsalted butter)
    A bit of extra loose sugar
    Finely chopped almonds

    Preheat the oven to 400F (200C).

    Cream together the butter and the sugar. You’ll know it’s right when it’s light and fluffy and hasn’t gone back to grainy.

    Beat in the eggs and the rosewater until well-mixed.

    Blend the dry ingredients together seperately, then mix into the wet a bit at a time until you’ve got a soft dough that will hold its shape.

    Roll into balls a little smaller than a walnut, and roll these into the sugar/chopped almonds mixture. Give a good distance between them on the cookie sheet.

    Bake for 8 to 10 minutes, and watch them closely–they should juuuust be starting to brown if you want a nice soft/chewy cookie. You’ll get a crisp cookie if you let them brown longer. Take them out, let them firm up on the cookie sheet for a little bit, then transfer them to a wire rack or a plate or whatever to cool the rest of the way.

  82. Dear Santa: I simply cannot understand how you let yourself go. Look at you! Even the poems little children recite say you ‘jiggle like a bowlful of jelly’. Won’t you please think about the children you say you love so much? Is your love of cookies so extreme that you would give a child a bad example? Set them up for a lifetime of obesity, sadness, and disease? Imagine how much better you would look and feel if you reduced your waist size below 35 inches. You could also shave off that facial hair. Don’t you know that it traps germs? Particularly from your food? Particularly from cookie crumbs?

    I know that you have been around for about 1800 years, but don’t you want to live longer so you can see what goes on in the world? Otherwise, I strongly advise that you start succession planning, and I hope that you have good insurance because you are going to need it. Even though you have lived longer than any recorded organism anywhere (except maybe a giant mushroom community in the northwestern forests of the United States), you are at risk for heart disease, diabetes, cancer, and… Let’s just say it here… Unattractiveness. I don’t see how Mrs. Claus can stand… Well, forget it. Come to think of it, Mrs. Claus needs to lose weight too.

    No worries. I’m going to help you. If you crave cookies, eat pickles. They kill the craving. So… I’ve left pickles for you. I have also left some bitter apple slices and some grapefruit because they melt the fat. I left some carrots, but they are for the reindeer — don’t you DARE eat them because thwith the other foods that will make the snacks more than 100 calories.

    Wishing you health and long life…

    –AndyJo–

  83. Oh! I forgot: All measures are approximate, because I 1. measure by eye a lot of times and 2. have to adjust things based on weather 3. don’t always like things so sweet. YMMV, use your judgement, sample the dough to make sure it tastes okay, add more whatever a small bit at a time if it needs adjustment. Good sense, but I remember when I was less sure-footed with baking such reinforcement always helped. :)

  84. I’ve never posted on this blog before, but I just had to say… AnthroK8’s sendup of “A Christmas Carol” was one of the funniest damned things I’ve ever read. Now off to have me some bacon and eggs for breakfast (and, dammit, maybe even a cookie just for spite).

  85. Thanks everyone.

    littlem, I think it’s interesting that The Night Before Christmas took some work (and doesn’t read as well b/c of the clunkiness). But A Christmas Carol was dead easy; just replace the words for “malnourished” for “fat” and you’re golden. I suppose this is a telling statement about changes in social mores over the last century and a half.

  86. Sweetmachine – avoiding prawns has become a life’s passion for me. I have had two close encounters of the third kind with prawns in restaurants and have also had them described to me as “sea arachnids” which has finished me forever. They are evil and hang around sewerage spouts with a straw drinking diarrhoea. They love it, the little plop gobblers.

    Pant, pant, (catches breath). Sorry, but I really loathe the little sods.

  87. Dear Santa,

    My New Year’s Resolution this year was to become more informed, so I stopped watching those liberal news shows and started tuning in to the fair and balanced station. I’ve learned a number of things you might be interested in:

    1) I naively used to think health care was so expensive because our gov’t is run by corporations. Silly me! It turns out fatty people like you are the ones driving up health care costs, with your diabetes and heart attacks, which skinny people never get! So instead of gifts this year, I’d like you to pay my COBRA bill.

    2) I used to think it was nice that you handed out gifts to all children, even the ones in those lazy poor families who don’t contribute anything to our economy. But I realize now, that’s SOCIALISM, which is really just FASCISM. Why don’t you just go back to the People’s Republic of the North Pole where you belong?

    3) I used to think your red and white suit was sort of jaunty and fun. But now that I’m tuned to the real news, I’ve received a number of fashion tips (never got those on that liberal Jim Lehrer News Hour). Did you know you’re dressing all wrong? That black belt right around your waist, and the white trim at the bottom of your coat – it makes you look even fatter than you already are! You could shed 20 visual pounds by wearing a black suit with vertical stripes. Maybe some shoulder pads to balance your figure. I mean, for God’s sake, take some pride in your appearance!

    In short, Santa, I’d like you to get the hell out of my house. You’re not the reason for the season, you know. Christmas is about our blessed savior, who urged us to spread good will to all men who earn over $50,000 a year and who can produce a true birth certificate showing they were born in a civilized country. But, of course, I still love you, just not your lifestyle.

    God bless!

    –Amy

  88. Dear Santa,

    First I would like to acknowledge the good work you have done in the past. I know you’ve put a lot of effort into creating a holly jolly holiday, and I’m sure the children appreciate it.

    However, I’m concerned with a pattern that has, I believe, cast a dark shadow over the season: your continued weight gain. If you leave this problem unaddressed, you will not only die, but you will be responsible for the misery of millions of children around the globe. Now, you wouldn’t want to do that, would you?

    Of course not. But, I’m glad to say that the solution is simple: I have enclosed a 25-page booklet, sponsored by the PA Medical Society, with color illustrations to help you craft your diet and your life so you can start taking care of yourself and no longer foist your disgusting visage on the rest of us every year. If you follow these steps, by Christmas 2010 you’ll be a proper symbol for the restraint, guilt, shame and deprivation that we all know Christmas represents.

    The snacks I have left by the tree are shown on page 3. I’ve given you all of the tools, and have even got you started, so if you fail it’s absolutely your own fault!

    Awaiting your return next year, fit and trim,

    valseven

  89. “I still love you, just not your lifestyle.” haha priceless!

    Dear Satan, I mean, Santa,
    I was going to leave out a thick piece of my annual cranberry bread, but then I realized that it is full of carbs, sugar, and shortening. Sure, my bread has been said to taste like Christmas itself, but as it turns out I was simply enabling you in your fatty-fat-fat-ness. I’m genuinely sorry for the guilt you must be feeling after eating my delicious cranberry bread and bourbon balls year after year, so if you want, you can lay a nice heaping bowl of guilt and shame out for me this year, although my aunt N. may have you beat. I hope you look and feel better soon.

    KCJones

  90. Dear Santa,

    I’ve been told by numerous experts that ‘nothing tastes as good as thin feels’, so this year, instead of mince pies (where I come from, we leave you mince pies usually, not cookies) I am leaving you a whole plate of ‘thin feels’. I’ve never eaten those, and I couldn’t find a recipe, so I have invented one. I thought thin feels must taste a bit like mint thins, so I have made chocolate mint truffles, with extra chocolate and mint and creme de menthe (for that added alcoholicky goodness). I hope they’re ok. If they are not the best thing you’ve ever tasted, I will tell all the experts that they’re wrong and there are things that taste better than ‘thin feels’.

    Lots of love,
    Essen x

  91. Didn’t The Simpsons have a scene in one of their Christmas episodes where Santa was in the hospital for a heart attack, and Rudolph started crying when Santa flatlined? What is Pennsylvania going to do next, seriously ask “Won’t someone think of the children?”? Get with the times, already!

  92. @Renatus — Yay! Thank you for the fantastic idea. We have some rosewater, and I’m now thinking of ways to use that instead of the foodsafe rosebuds (understanding that your way is way cooler, but also needing to use what we’ve got before buying any more fancy ingredients.)

    So I’m loving this thread. I’m loving how it’s turning into Fuck You Penguin only for holiday characters. Very therapeutic. Y’all are so wonderful. [snurf!]

  93. ‘Are there no gym classes?’ said the Spirit, turning on him for the last time with his own words. ‘Are there no ways of exercising self control?’

    The bell struck twelve.

    *dies*

  94. Dear Santa,

    Notice the nutmeg sugar cookies that my mother used to make, and there’s hot cocoa for you, too!

    I have a big, big, favor to ask you, Santa. Would you please take this copy of “Rethinking Thin” by Gina Kolata and deliver it to my sister who is a physician in Pennsylvania? She and I have the same physique but poor girl, she hates herself for it. She has had some health problems and she just knows that it is because she is such a bad fatty, and being a practicing doctor in Pennsylvania — well, the poor thing can’t catch a break.

    I don’t want her to know that the book was my idea — she has worked so hard on her weight forever, and I never have, and we are the same size anyway.

    Yours in solidarity,

    Katia

  95. Dear Halloween,
    I know we’ve had many, many great years together. Remember how we used to separate out and trade the candy with the peanut allergic kids, which meant the rest of us got all the Snickers? That was great. But, you see, I’ve been talking to my friends at the Pennsylvania Medical Society, and they tell me that you’re really not helping me grow as a person. Well, you are, just not growing the right way. They say I can do better than you, and I’m starting to believe them. I still care about you and all, but you’re going to have to change if you want me to stick around. From now on, instead of pillowcases and pumpkin baskets, kids are going to have to carry salad bowls from house to house. People can put in various greens, croutons, maybe a little Parmesan, and so on. (But not red onions. Those people will get their houses TP’d.) I’m sorry it has to be this way, but it’s your last chance, Halloween. One more mini Babe Ruth and I’m out the door.

  96. Just a small note that you can find rose water in Indian grocery stores.

    You can also often find rose essence, which is in a tiny bottle and much more concentrated (like almond or vanilla essence). I usually put a drop of rose essence in my biryani or saffron rice. But very carefully, because if you put more than a single drop in 4 cups of water, the rose scent is unpleasantly strong in your rice! It’s also good in sweet lassis.

  97. @A Sarah: My way is a pain in the ass. :D I’m using rosebuds because I have them on hand (yay for totally random ‘I don’t know what I’ll use these for, but I’m sure I’ll think of something’ purchases)–I’m pretty sure rosewater will give you better results for way less effort.

    I haven’t yet been able to hunt down a Middle Eastern/Indian grocery here in Finland. Luckily I live in the capitol area and there should be some in Helsinki, but between my hermitness, nobody I know having any damn clue, and failure at google-fu, I haven’t found one. I need to try harder, because rose is my favourite flavour and there are approximately a zillion goodies I want to try rose-flavoured Rose cake, chocolate cake with rose frosting, vanilla cake with rose frosting, white chocolate rose truffles with dark chocolate coating… mm.

  98. Dear Santa,

    In this time of recession we’re forced to make some budgetary cutbacks. One of these is the introduction of a new, high efficiency sleigh drawn by only 3 reindeer. As a result of this we’re afraid that we’re going to have to enroll you in the new Get Fit At The Poles plan. This involves mandatory pole dancing classes for you and Mrs Claus, weekly weigh-ins and an adjustment in the official meal plan to exclude any foodstuffs with over 100 calories per ounce. Although this will be a difficult adjustment for all of us, we know we can count on you to do your part to help us meet our goals. Also, in the event that non-compliant children leave you cookies and milk in spite of the new guidelines, please do not feed them to the reindeer since some of them have peanut allergies.

    PS When implementing the reindeer layoff plan please keep in mind that we can’t fire Rudolph – he’s union.

  99. Dear Santa,
    If you really wanted to give us all the greatest present of all you would lose some weight. We’re all just really worried about your health. All of that extra weight you’re carrying could cause you to drop dead at any second, maybe on someone’s roof, or worse, while going down their chimney. And then we’d have to call the fire department to get you out and they’d have to use a crane because you are just so big.

    We love you, but we are just so worried. Something bad could happen, and it’s not like it is hard to lose weight, if you just ate less and worked out more you’d be skinny. Lots of other people are skinny, and you should really think about becoming skinny too.

    So please Santa, stop eating pounds of cookies and start working out. Do it for yourself, or if not for you, for us, because we are worried about your health. (And, no offense, but we can’t stand seeing your fat ass in that red suit anymore, it is disgusting.)

    -Concerned People

  100. “Buoyancy, heat retention, blah blah blah” – OMG!!!! NOW I know why I can out-swim my thinner companions (“How is it that she can swim ALL THAT WAY FASTER THAN US? I mean, she’s FAT!”) and never get cold! Awesome!

  101. kcjones, my lovely, any chance you might give us a little hint about that cranberry bread recipe? I mean, if it’s not like a top clearance government secret or anything. Because right now, I’m thinking I would like very much to eat that. I promise to keep it all to myself and not give any to Santa. Pretty please?

  102. Renatus, thank you for the recipe! I’ve got everything but the almonds at hand (and there’s a blizzard bearing down on me, so I’m not going to be getting out of the house anytime soon); maybe I’ll try just rolling them in powdered sugar, and add a drop of red food coloring just for a tiny bit of a pink tinge? (If food coloring isn’t horribly cheating.)

    I love love love rose-flavored things, too–I once made a really gorgeous cake for Beltaine with frosting roses flavored with rose water. The cake itself had a good amount of dried apricots zipped to a puree in my food processor and added to the batter. And it wasn’t one of those things where fruit was substituting for some kind of fat, either–there was plenty of butter in there too. Damn that was an amazing cake. The only problem is I made it up as I went along and I don’t know if I could ever recreate it!

    Y’all, I think it’s the fault of this thread, but today I made another batch of cookies (these things called ‘Santa’s whiskers’ this time) and now I’ve got a batch of gingerbread dough for an actual gingerbread house in the fridge chilling. Or chillin’, I guess; it’s kinda just hanging out.

  103. Thalia — what are “Santa’s whiskers” in the context of cookies? (And that cake you described sounds AMAZING.)

    There are no cookies here, sadly; the full might of the kitchen at our house has been turned to producing cheese straws. Not that there’s anything sad about cheese straws. But cookies are good too.

  104. Dear Santa,

    You know, that zaftig look went out with Rubens. I know you have exercise equipment in that workshop of yours; you deliver it to selected fatties every Christmas. Didn’t that tell you anything? So, use a set yourself; just 30 minutes, four times a week will melt those pounds away! To help you reach your goal, in lieu of cookies, I’m leaving you some low-fat rice cakes to snack on. Ignore the dried-cardboard taste; you’ll feel so virtuous that you won’t mind.

    Sincerely,
    StarWatcher

    Note to SPers: This is StarWatcher under a modified name. I’ve forgotten my WordPress password, and my old email is defunct so I couldn’t give myself a password-changing code. Now I just hope my windmill icon shows up.

  105. I’d never heard of them before yesterday; I just found the recipe in a book and miraculously had most of the ingredients. They are very buttery sugar cookies (actually they taste almost like shortbread, they’re that buttery) with chopped up cherries and pecans (which I didn’t have), formed into a log, rolled in coconut (the ‘whiskers’ part, I guess), then refrigerated, sliced, and baked. They are quite good and I can totally see the ground pecans working very well. I put a little of the cherry juice in it instead of the vanilla it called for and they came out a very festive pink.

  106. To HiddenTohru, re: acid reflux. I suffered for years, until I learned that eating an apple every evening greatly reduced the effects. Not 100%, but I went from 4 pills per day (with about 60% control) to 1 pill per day (with about 95% control). The apple-a-day thing has also given relief to several of my friends. Maybe it’ll help you, too.

    Question to other SPers — Gravatar wouldn’t let me use capitals in my name. But many of you have done so. Is there a way I can modify my name to show caps?

  107. Dear Santa,

    I left you three pieces of dry Melba toast, a glass of ice water with a lemon slice, and my old diet plan from Weight Watcher’s Camp.

    Please stop eating your feelings!
    I will give you a dollar for every pound you lose by next Christmas!

    All my conditional love,
    L

  108. Thalia, if red food colouring pleases you, then by all means add it! My method of baking is totally ‘do whatever looks good at the time’. FYI on the powdered sugar: It probably won’t bake well, so roll the cookies in it after baking. It gives them this reeeeally nice coating.

    That cake sounds AMAZING. My stomach just growled. I’m making a note that dried apricots + rose flavour + cake = win.

  109. Ok…as we are on the subject of food, I have question. I was just looking at the previous Wednesday one liners, and I noticed someone mentioned eating “Pulled Pork.”

    For the love of god, will someone please let me know what pulled pork is? I’ve never heard of it and my mind is literally doing wild leaps of confusion. The possibilities are endless, and not all of them pleasant I must say…..pork that has been pulled….

    Please, someone, end this bewilderment!

  110. Renatus —

    It pleases me to be able to help you with the Indian/Middle Eastern food issue! I just spent a few months in Helsinki, so I have become familiar with the area.

    There is one that I know of and another that I have heard of. One is in Espoo, at the mall that is by the Leppavara train station. Just 15 minutes on the A line out of the main train station. It is kind of small. You can ask for exact directions at the kebab shop, but I seem to remember it was in the area where the you access the main area of the mall from the train station — close to Prisma. Many of my colleagues from India bought food there. Also check the Prisma and the K Market there — they are very large (unlike the ones in town) and carry some supply of foreign foods.

    I have also heard of one in or around Kruununhaka. I was living there, and one of my colleagues from Pakistan said that there was an Indian/Middle Eastern food shop close by. He never said where exactly, but I lived on Mariankatu and he said it was close to me.

    Lastly, I seem to remember that there were some specialty shops at the Kauppahalli at Hakaniemi. Not sure if they might have it, but it’s worth a try.

    Hope this helps!

    –Andy–

  111. paintmonkey cried

    For the love of god, will someone please let me know what pulled pork is?

    It’s pork that’s been barbecued at a low temp until the connective tissue breaks down and you can easily pull it apart between two forks (or whatever). I associate it with North Carolina (non-tomato) kind of sauces, but on googling I guess that’s just me.

  112. Ahhhh, thanks Shiloh. That’s quite a relief to the brow. As a veggie I’m often not in the know on meat stuff, but the words “Pull” and “pork” together had me worried and a tad suspicious.

  113. The celery is for the reindeer. Santa likes three spritzer, a krumkake, and two russian tea cakes arranged in a semi-circle; however, Santa is concerned about food safety, and prefers that the milk be marked with a note on the front of the fridge instead of left out to sour.

    My childhood memories remain firmly unspoiled, thank you kindly.

  114. Late to the game again, but I just had to add my $.02.

    Dear “Santa”:

    I do not celebrate Christmas. Furthermore, I live in Florida. You may not be aware of the Florida Penal Code, but I am allowed to “protect my castle,” meaning if you set foot in my house you will be shot. I believe that the fact that we will not welcome you with milk and cookies is a given, lard ass.

    Sincerely,
    Sarah B.

  115. AndyJo, you are wonderful. :D That’s the best set of leads I’ve had since I moved here (haven’t yet had any luck at the regular big grocery stores, alas). Thank you so much.

  116. I’m from Pennsylvania and we had a lovely cookie table at our reception. I’m embarrassed for the Commonwealth today. My apologies, Santa. As usual, there will be cookies at our house for you and reindeer feed out on the lawn.

  117. drat. here’s a link:

    it’s a picture of cookie monster–cookie in hand, mouth open–captioned with the very profound observation that ‘now is sometimes’

  118. Dear Santa,

    Please ignore those killjoys in PA. Anyone who leaves you anything low-fat, low-cal, low-carb or low anything else deserves both coal in their stockings and nothing but practical presents under the tree. And precious few of those.

    Those of us who practice HAES like you just the way you are; jolly, healthy and generous. You obviously get lots of good food and exercise and lead a low-stress life. Keep up the good work!

    I will, as always, be leaving you a nice plate of caradomom cookies and a glass of aquavit.

    Wishing you a holly, jolly and other things ending in -olly Christmas.

    Love,

    Twincats

  119. Spotted an article saying pretty much the same thing in the BMJ (Brittish Medical Journal, for those of you Stateside) – the only twist? It was in the Christmas edition, where the articles tend to be rather tongue in cheek. To give you an idea, other articles in that edition included “Ingested foreign bodies and societal wealth: 3 year observational study of swallowed coins”, “Animated Opthalmology”(a discussion of eye problems in cartoon characters) and “Will it all go wrong? Sod’s law applied to medicine”.

    Sadly, I also saw it reported in the Metro (free newspaper), touted as a serious commentary…

  120. Oh my gosh, what a bunch of great letters (and other comments) – you all rule! I don’t have a letter, and someone already pointed out that our mythical fat man needs those calories to perform his astounding feats; I’m making a comic about it, but the blogs will probably have moved on by the time I finish it.

    If you’d like to read the Pennsylvania Medical Society’s original post, they present the nonsense in a less garbled fashion than the amednews article, and (ahem) there’s a comment box. (I didn’t leave the comment that’s already there)

  121. Oddly enough I never left cookies and milk out for Santa, we left carrots for the reindeer because they would get hungry with all the travel.

    Wonder if that is still OK or is the slightly higher sugar content in carrots bad now too and we should instead leave….bran?

    Now I am thinking of a reindeer trying to keep a puker lock on his tushy full of bran poised on top of my roof….damn it.

  122. Well said. I can’t stand how this anti-fat crap bleeds into everything. Considering that Christmas has become the most consuming, consumerist holiday of all time, I’m pretty sure that a few damn cookies is not going to be the indulgence to end all indulgences.

  123. A post from MLIA….to which I say, Well Done!

    Yesterday at parent-teacher night, one of the mothers remarked that she didn’t feel that Cookie Monster is a good role model. Today I gave her daughter an extra cookie at snack time for having to put up with a mother like that. MLIA

Comments are closed.