Santa is a bum

Well, I woke up this morning after hearing the fat man rummaging around my kitchen and eating my cookies.  I wasn’t rude, I waited until he made his exit to run out to the tree to see if he had restored my electricity or delivered those 24″ rims I wanted.  But guess what?  All he did was eat my food and leave.  Kinda of like what I do at the houses of my employed friends.  So I began to wonder if Santa is reallly a barer of gifts, or just another unemployed schmuck who had to move to the North Pole after his house in Walnut Creek was foreclosed.  I wrote him a little note to let him know I how felt:

Happy holidays!