Category Archives: Letters

Letters to Santa

Dear Santa,

All I want for Christmas is some furniture (preferably a foot stool), some rope to practice my knots, and a heavy duty hook to hang a mistletoe.

Love, Raymond, 7

Dear Santa,

pleas ask mommy and daddy to shut the door when they practice CPR and reverse CPR (that’s what daddy calls it)

Thanks, Johnny 8

Dear Santa,

It was nice meeting you at the mall, but kind of awkward when you showed up at my house yesterday. However, thank you for the PS4 and the cold hands.

Scarred, Roman, 6

Dear Santa,

Here it is. The day we’ve been planning for months. Or at least I have, because this has been a fairly one-sided conversation. But I know you’ve been getting these letters. You have to have been, because where else would they be going?

Letters to the Ed

Dear Lily’s Dad,
I heard you caught that cold I sent home for you via your daughter. Happy back to school season, you old bastard. Sure, we’ve never met and you’ve never even heard of me, but now we are connected virally. Parts of my germ cocktail are all up inside you! How do you like that mother***a! All summer long I didn’t wash my hands once! And if you’re wondering if I ever took a bath – well you better stop, you pedo! With any luck, I timed it just right so that you would have to push your print date back as far as you could in the week and probably completely forget about any other projects like that whack-ass Young Adult novel you’ve been working on for two years. To me, it’s particularly funny how this cold hit you the worst ’cause you’re always home. Your week-ass immune system never had a chance, fool. Yeah, I know stuff.
Go Hawks!
Dirty Donnie

Letters to the Ed

Dear voters,
How come nobody ever told us that if our dad won the election he would be going away for 32 weeks of the year? Did any of you voters out there take that into consideration what kind of effect that is going to have on us? I doubt it.
WTF,
Michael Cloud’s Children

Dear Cloud Kids,
All I can figure is that your old man just doesn’t really like you all that much.

Please Don’t Sue Us: An Open Letter to Counsel for Stripes Stores

Dear Stripes Lawyers
Kevin R. Casey, Esquire
Elizabeth M. O’Donoghue, Esquire
Ted ‘Theodore’ Logan
Bill S. Preston, Esquire

Let me start by stating that I am not a lawyer. I thought about it for a while between ages 9-11, but eventually moved on to Professional Skateboarder. Later, I learned how much reading was involved in legal work and the last of any interest I had in pursuing a career as a court officer dissolved.

You guys recently sent me a 3-page letter explaining that it was unacceptable and possibly illegal for The Vent to use the Stripes logo for our satirical Trump Kups story.

Letters to the editor

Dear Vent,
It’s your old buddy, Tea Party darling Ted Cruz. I just wanted to reach out and say thanks for not being to hard on me last campaign season. I know how easy of a target I can be and you have shown a lot of restraint, as well as class by not constantly pointing out all of the crazy mess that comes out of my mouth. Remember the filibuster where I talked about Star Wars…?
I know as a First Amendment aficionado, my presidential campaign announcement from the institution founded by Jerry Fallwell [check name] had to bring a few things to mind. Perhaps the discussion even took place to pen a story similar to that old Hustler Magazine ad that famously told a tale of Fallwell having relations with his mother in an outhouse.

Dear Wil Vent,

For decades now I have always wondered why nothing ever happened between us. In 1993 we were at the same junior high school, sure I was your Biology teacher, but we shared that special moment. We walked in the schoolyard and talked about why you weren’t doing your work, I told you that I knew how smart you were, and I told you I was going through a divorce. We both cried a little and then shared that long hug. Didn’t you realize that was when you were supposed to kiss me? In hindsight, maybe I should have made the first move, seeing as I was 20 years your senior. Well, I’m in my 50’s now… wanna bang?

Sincerely Mrs. Robinson

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