Dear Santa,

Really?

Every year we go through the motions, and you never deliver. Maybe my chimney’s too slim for you to slide down, but whose fault is that? I stopped leaving cookies for you years ago. Heck, last year I left you a Slimfast and three sticks of celery. Maybe it’s time you tried the Atkins diet – I hear it lets you eat reindeer nowadays.

Anyway, I know what you’re thinking. Yes, I am Jewish. I don’t actually celebrate Christmas. Those candles by the living room window aren’t there for you to light up your candy cane cigarettes – they’re on a menorah.

But I don’t see the problem. Every year you make a list, check it twice, see who’s naughty, see who’s nice, and then you spoil the crap out of all the little Christian kids who manage to go a year without pissing their parents off.

Maybe Dec. 25 is just another day for me and my tribe, but there’s no way we deserve presents any less than your typical clientele. Don’t you know what they do to Jewish boys when they’re eight days old? I say that alone merits a stocking stuffer or two.

Besides, I’m basically a good guy. I say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and always do the dishes when it’s my turn. I don’t even steal money from the homeless, anymore.

So really, why are you giving me the shaft? It’s not like I demand the world out of you. Maybe when I was young I got a little ambitious with some of my requests (I know Rudolph would probably eat one of your elves if he was making a jetpack for you), but these days I’m pretty reasonable.

Heck, all I asked for last year was a pair of wool socks and the Syracuse University Dance Team directory. Was that too much for you? Has shipping and handling gotten so expensive at the North Pole that you had to leave me with a lifetime’s worth of ugly scarves and my aunt’s homemade fruitcake?

The way I figure, you owe me 19 years’ worth of presents. Don’t worry – I won’t ask for the world (I’ll take a rain check on the jetpack until the reindeer go on strike), but it’s time for you to pay up. Here’s what I want:

-Duct tape, lighter fluid and dental floss. Don’t ask.

-A camouflage-colored Snuggie. So I can stay warm while I go hunting.

-Tiger Woods’ little black book. The way I figure it, he’s gonna have to keep a low profile for now, which means a lot of ladies might get lonely this holiday season. It’s a win-win.

-An argyle sweater vest. In order to please Tiger’s ladies.

-An autographed picture of Ron Jeremy. To add to my collection – a hobby’s a hobby.

-The director’s cut limited edition ‘Hannah Montana’ DVDs for seasons 1 and 2. It’s for a friend, I swear. But please make sure it’s the director’s cut and not just the regular version with director commentary that they rent out from Netflix. I’ve already seen that version twice. I mean, my friend has. This is very important.

Well, Santa, you’ve got your work cut out for you. I know it’s a big load to carry for you and the reindeer, but I promise, if you guys deliver the goods, you’ll be handsomely rewarded with a plate full of homemade cookies.

If not, you better tell your reindeer to pick straws, because you sure as hell can’t fill up on celery and Slimfast.

Danny Fersh is a sophomore broadcast journalism major and his columns appear every Wednesday. He would like to give a giant winkyface to Kelly for an awesome semester, and wants to thank The D.O. and its feature staff, his still-intact Sadler crew, the Watson gang, everyone he calls for article help and John Stamos. Check out The Fresh Squeeze this week because NOBODY EVER WATCHES IT. Seriously, it’s depressing. Danny can be reached at dafersh@syr.edu.