Bob Cesca
12.01.2005
An Open Letter to Bill O'Reilly About The War on Christmas
Dear Bill,
...
Anyways, the War on Christmas. I totally agree with you. It used to be that a guy could turn on the television or visit the local shopping mall and become instantly blasted with Christmas yule in every form imaginable. Did you see that Christmas movie last year with Tim Allen in which he gets Botox injections in his face? Do you think that hurt? Is that what made him "Kranky?" Will there ever be a movie like that again now that Christmas is under attack? I hate to say, but I doubt it. Christmas is very much under attack by the Grinch-o-nistas! (You can use that.)
(snip)
In a few days, my daughter is scheduled to play drums for her school's jazz band in something ambiguously billed as a "Holiday Concert." What the Christ is THAT? It should rightfully be called a "Christmas Concert." Or "A Very Jazzy Jesus' Birthday!" How else are we supposed to know what the theme of the concert will be? I say screw the Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, and Miscellaneous students who don't celebrate Christmas. Who asked them to go to public school and participate in extra-curricular events anyway? Not this Christo-phile! Hell, I bet half of them don't realize that Jesus himself wrote the jazz arrangement for "Oh Holy Night" -- AND he could hit that crazy high note in there!
But the Grinch-o-nistas won't allow us to mention that. They want us to be more accepting of other religions by not shoving our (one and only) Religion down their throats. Our nation's slogan should become: "In God We Trust and Shove Down Your Throats!" That'll show the Godless mud people who aren't like you and me that if you dare sneak into our country, we fully intend to shove a plastic Nativity Jesus down your various dirt-worshipping heathen throats.
Honestly, Bill, how the hell will I spend myself into massive credit debt this year? Usually, I begin on Black Friday by using a bicycle chain to thwack old people in Wal-Mart. Last year, I totally booted this four-foot-tall Granny in the spine for an iPod. Look, she had it coming! Don't get between me and my Christmas, old fucker! And that's just the warm up. Next, I try to hit every Sharper Image store in the Northeast Corridor where I buy massage chairs and air purifiers for everyone on my list. Jesus would've wanted that, as he was no fan of allergens. Not this year, though. Christmas is practically cancelled. So I'll be forced to buy crap I personally don't need. There's a pile of flotsam on my floor and it has the word "Roomba" written all over it. Small consolation.
(snip)
Meanwhile, I've called a strategy meeting in a last ditch effort to save Christmas. I'm in touch with the estate of Burl Ives and an emergency summit is scheduled for tonight at Hannity's secret ginger bread bunker. I hope you can come. You have some explaining to do. Tonight's theme: the Gift of the Magi. Bring your fake beard, a staff, and some myrrh. Falwell called frankincense, so you're myrrh. Sorry.
Yours in Christ,
Bob
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/bob-cesca/an-open-letter-to-bill-o_b_11526.html