Dear Santa Claus: Go Fuck Yourselftrailer Park ... [TOP]

So, take your reindeer, take your judgmental "naughty or nice" list, and keep flying. We’re doing just fine in the mud. Merry Christmas to everyone except the guy in the red suit.

We don’t need your “magic,” fat man. Around here, we make our own. We’ve got a bonfire going in a trash bin, a radio playing a scratchy version of Blue Christmas , and enough grit to get through another year without a handout from the North Pole. Dear Santa Claus: Go Fuck YourselfTrailer Park ...

Not the kind that smells like burning hair and regret, but one that actually puts out heat before June. So, take your reindeer, take your judgmental "naughty

I’m writing this by the glow of a single strand of flickering multi-colored lights—half of which are burnt out—taped to the side of a 1974 single-wide. I’d tell you to “Ho-Ho-Ho” your way down the chimney, but since we don’t have one, and the roof is currently held together by a prayer and some industrial-grade tarp, you’d probably just fall through and crush my last good recliner. So, let’s be real for a second: Go fuck yourself. We don’t need your “magic,” fat man