Dear Santa,

Nick, first let me apologize on behalf of the Hibernian House for the deviate who for some distorted reason thought putting a laxative in Rudolf’s Buttermilk was funny (actually everyone thought it was hilarious except for Pat Kelly who was standing in the parking lot at the Legion). I happened to be at the House when you guys took off (it was more like a drop-off in Rudy’s case over the Legion). We have retained the services of a former NYPD Super Sleuth Fred Acaro to crack the case; so far he has cracked twelve cases of Budweiser. In addition, congratulations on your 452nd wedding anniversary, we were all very concerned when we heard the Missus had a bad cold and hoped it had nothing to do with that Victoria’s Secret Outfit you gave her for the anniversary …after 452 years you’re still into the wine and roses, you old devil. I can’t begin to tell you how much Jim Fitzmaurice loves that wallet you brought him last year, the one with the time lock that accepts bills but can only open on February 29th . For the last five months he has been sitting sidesaddle in the Pub because his wallet looks like a backpack.
Santa, you know all the guys and dolls so we are asking you to use your discretion on what to put under the pine (have you noticed how my writing acumen has improved since last year?) I have been taking courses at St. Margaret’s and hope to get a position as a speechwriter for our new Town Supervisor Paul Whelan. Just a thought but Al McLay, Phil Sheridan and Jim Doyle could use a few gift certificates to Butcher Boys so they would not have to hide behind trees in the woods with their bazookas looking for their next meat ticket. And maybe a Fanny Pack for Pete Dunne to hold some sustenance during his trips to the woods on golfing excursions. Nick, you don’t gotta bring me nuttin (the St. Margaret’s grammar and double negative class ain’t until January) but please make sure you get to the Troops. While we are hugging, kissing and sipping the grape many of these courageous men and women are sitting in a damp foxhole looking at a picture and wondering when they will get their next hug. There just is no one better than them.

Say one for the Troops.

PS: I will personally check Rudy’s Butter Milk.

Larry McKeever