(no subject)
I'm leaving for academic team camp (lame) in about twenty minutes so there will probably be no new content for a week or so. For your entertainment and with the author's full permission (well, he said "Do with it what you will"), I post here one of the funniest things to come out of Iowa.
A Letter to Santa from Noah Cruickshank
by Neima Jahromi
Dear Santa,
During the course of this year I, Noah Cruickshank, have been a very good boy. I apologize for never having written to you before. Please do not think that my lack of my communication is at all indicative of an absence of belief on my part. To the contrary, I simply live by the philosophy: “waste not, want not”. I recognized then that you, Santa, did not want to be an agent of crass materialism and thus I withheld writing for all those years so as not to abuse your awesome generosity.
More to the point: where I sleep it is very dark. There is acid and bile everywhere and it smells like fish. These are inadequate quarters for one as dignified and goodly as I, Noah Cruickshank. The walls quiver, the floor shakes, never a moment’s peace, never even a brief respite. To clarify, I live in the cavernous body of a whale.
And so I write to you, Mr. Nicholas, in order to request a United States Navy nuclear submarine and several torpedoes. If you deem me worthy of such a gift I would greatly appreciate it.
Forever Yours,
Noah Cruickshank
P.S. For the love of God, I’m being eaten alive!
A Letter to Santa from Noah Cruickshank
by Neima Jahromi
Dear Santa,
During the course of this year I, Noah Cruickshank, have been a very good boy. I apologize for never having written to you before. Please do not think that my lack of my communication is at all indicative of an absence of belief on my part. To the contrary, I simply live by the philosophy: “waste not, want not”. I recognized then that you, Santa, did not want to be an agent of crass materialism and thus I withheld writing for all those years so as not to abuse your awesome generosity.
More to the point: where I sleep it is very dark. There is acid and bile everywhere and it smells like fish. These are inadequate quarters for one as dignified and goodly as I, Noah Cruickshank. The walls quiver, the floor shakes, never a moment’s peace, never even a brief respite. To clarify, I live in the cavernous body of a whale.
And so I write to you, Mr. Nicholas, in order to request a United States Navy nuclear submarine and several torpedoes. If you deem me worthy of such a gift I would greatly appreciate it.
Forever Yours,
Noah Cruickshank
P.S. For the love of God, I’m being eaten alive!