President Donald Trump participated in the annual White House tradition of writing the Presidential Letter to Santa, and The Halfway Post obtained a copy of Mr. Trump’s letter. It may surprise some of you.
The letter reads as follows:
You’re welcome from freeing you from the prison former-president Barack Obama put you in during his eight, dark years of banning the words “Merry Christmas.” I hope you make a public comment explaining how I’m the best Christmas president in history. No one has ever done so much for Christmas, and in only the first year. And if you don’t, I’m not afraid to use my Twitter account to smear your reputation. There’s a lot of Russian Twitter bots that follow me and do my bidding, so unless you want to be called “fake Christmas,” I’d suggest you say good things about me. But now that the dirty business is out of the way, I’d like to tell you what I want for Christmas, Santa. It’s pretty simple really. All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth. The real ones. I want my real teeth back. You know how awful it is wearing dentures that always threaten to slip out? It’s a nightmare. The other day they slipped out mid-sentence and I got caught saying “United Shhtates.” This can’t happen. So even though my dentures are unnaturally white, straight and trim looking, I want my real teeth back. I also want my real hair back. I live in a constant state of terror that a slight gust of wind will blow my implanted hair’s comb-over around and make me look like a ridiculous cockatiel. My hair is so thin and wispy because it’s basically a bird nest up there, and even copious amounts of hairspray often aren’t enough to make it look even remotely like a real head of hair. I just want my old hair from my 20s back. I did not age gracefully, let me tell you, but I absolutely refuse to be honest about my gross appearance. Oh, and I also want a real tan. The fake tan works all right, but I’m sick of being called “cheeto” all the time. I want real skin, real brown skin—but not too brown. I’m not trying to look Mexican or Arab or anything. I just want a nice tan. No orange tan. Thanks, Santa. I knew you’d understand.