My Dearest Samantha,
I regret to write that the liberals are massing in our sector, and the generals have revoked our furloughs to come home at all before Christmas. It’s back to the trenches for me and my 101st Snowborne Division brothers.
I miss you so much. The nights are very lonely. We must maintain a total blackout at night, so we can’t have any light strands, or candles, or Christmas-themed inflatables at all. We’ve had to blacken our gold and silver cross necklaces so they don’t reflect moonlight or flare light and give away our positions. It’s the saddest December you’ve ever seen. What I’d give to come home just for one day and light a single candle in one of our windows.
Though the liberals have a devilish resolve to end Christmas once and for all, we are holding onto hope that we can make a breakthrough somewhere along their trenches and drive them out of the North Pole. We must to keep Santa and the Elves safe so they can keep building the toys and presents, and deliver them to all the good Christian children.
Oh how I miss snuggling with you at night, Sammy. I haven’t been getting much sleep at all these weeks because the liberals probe our defensive lines nightly looking for weak points to push through and ruin Christmas. They want to take Santa hostage, and do who knows what to him. Probably force him to convert to Islam, or force him to drink some gay almond milk from communist California with his cookies instead of the traditional cow milk, or tattoo his skin brown so he becomes Black Santa. It’s impossible to get into the demented, tradition-hating mind of a liberal.
Their assaults against us are savage because they have the world’s top demonic liberals monsters as their generals: Satan, Hillary Clinton, Joseph Stalin’s reanimated corpse, and the antichrist herself, Greta Thunberg.
These generals never sleep because they drink baby blood adrenochrome smoothies all day long so we have to be on high alert always. We get bombarded daily in fierce attacks where the liberals fire volleys of metal menorahs, then copies of the Koran, and finally CDs of Christmas songs sung in Spanish. The barrages keep us hiding underground so they can creep up underneath the cover fire close enough to our trenches to toss in coffee cups that say “Happy Holidays” on them instead of “Merry Christmas.” It’s terrifying when one hits you. Then they’ll also toss in smoke bombs in the Kwanzaa colors of black, red, and green.
Worst of all is the glitter bombs that explode homosexual glitter and confetti all over us. We try to quickly throw them all back out of our trenches, but the liberals outnumber us, and we lose good men every day to these reminders of America’s religious and cultural diversity.
It’s very tough to stay positive, and our officers struggle to keep up the morale. Sometimes the liberals fly over us and drop propaganda leaflets to discourage us. The leaflets say things like how Jesus really wasn’t born on December 25th, and that He wasn’t blonde, white or blue-eyed, and that Christmas trees are a pagan custom, and that corporations have a financial interest in being inclusive and expressive of all religious faiths and December holidays, not just the Christian Christmas.
But rest assured that me and the boys are committed to keeping the Christmas spirit alive in our trenches. Sarge has an advent calendar, and every morning we get together and watch him reveal another little candy cane that means we’re one day closer to saving Christmas. It’s a small daily ritual, but, amidst all the liberal godlessness and Satanism just beyond our barbed wire fencing, it’s the only Christian reminder we have. Sarge gave me one of the candy canes yesterday after I jumped on one of the glitter bombs to save some of my friends. It got glitter all over me, but so far I haven’t been turned gay. Unfortunately, a good friend of mine did convert to Islam after he got hit by a Koran and started reading it.
Oh, Samantha, I hope everyone back home appreciates the sacrifices we are making here in the trenches. I regret to think about the magical Christmas memories I’m missing out on this year. I can’t even remember what eggnog tastes like. Sometimes the only thing we have to eat is what we can scrounge from liberal supply stashes we find while out on patrol. But it’s always awful vegan meat, or bland kale, or gluten-free everything.
I’m losing weight, and I shudder to think you won’t recognize me if I can get through this war alive. My red and green sweaters have been torn to shreds, my Santa hat’s white puffy ball got shot off by a dreidel sniper, and my rosy red cheeks are covered in dirt and mud. But at least I’m still alive, and I promise you I’ll never let the liberals take away my Christmas cheer.
Someday soon we will defeat the liberals, and Christians’ religious liberty will return to America. We’ll never again have to see any evidence there are other religions practiced in America with December holidays different than Christmas. That’s what we’re fighting for: the freedom to force our Christmas upon everyone else in America.
Much love to you always, Samantha,
John 🥃
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