The Christmas Letter IP

Christmas Letter for 2011.

Greetings from the Folgers!

I have to tell you that the writing of my annual Christmas letter will have to start on a sorrowful note.

On what is only our second day in Hawaii - Maui to be precise - I’ve already gotten a sunburn you could peel and attach to my shadow for a perfect match! It’s the Irish in me, I’m told. Burn and peel. Burn and peel.

I do it every year. Last year in Bermuda. The year before that in Tahiti. It’s enough to make a man give up his quest for the most exotic Christmas beaches. But onward I push. No matter how detrimental it is to my health.

But not to worry, I write this sitting in a warm tub of soothing bathing salts and aloe. And these wonderfully tasty Mai Tai’s aren’t hurting me any, either. Ha. Ha.

I have a confession to make. Due to the severe nature of my sunburn I’ve decided to hire the services of a secretary to take dictation of my blessed Christmas letter.

Isn’t that right, darling? What? Don’t call you darling? Sorry. It’s the Mai Tai’s talking. Isn’t that right, KAREN. That better? Can we just get this damn thing over with?

Don’t take a tone with me, Karen! I’m paying you an outrageous fortune to sit there in a seductive bikini and scribble words on a pad. How hard can that be? What do you mean, Not hard at all, just like last night? Last night it was the Piña Passions! You wait till tomorrow and I’ll show you how hard I can be! And stop laughing!

Where was I? Ah, yes.

This bath is doing wonders for my skin. My- What? Why must you keep interupting the flow of my Christmas letter? How many Mai Tai’s have you had, Karen? Not enough? Well, after this letter, you’re fired! How do you like them apples? Small and wrinkly like mine? That’s some way to talk to an employer. And, by the way, it’s the bathing salts and aloe that make them so wrinkly. What? My penis? My penis is where it always is! What a question. You can’t see it because it’s a well known fact that the penis has its own built in defense mechanism that causes it to seek shelter behind the nut sack, if you will, any time it’s in water. It’s all very evolutionary, having to do with our coming from the ocean. Says me? Yeah, says me! You’re highly inappropriate, my dear. What? Sorry. Highly inappropriate, KAREN. Can we get back to work? Please?

My quest for the most exotic Christmas beach has taken me all over the world, thanks to my employers at the Vacation channel. Hosting your own show is not all glitz and glamour, you know.

Why, only last year, as I swam in the rugged Australian waters, I came nose to nose with a great white shark! Ooh! That was so-- What now, Karen! What? Great white jelly fish? That’s a lie and you know it! I was not drunk! That’s it! You’re fired! I’ll write my own damn Christmas letter in due time! I said, you’re fired, Karen. You can stop writing. I said stop writing now! Are you deaf? What? You better not send this out to my family and friends! You hear me, Karen! Get back in this tub! I’m sorry, Karen. It was the Mai Tai’s talking. You know I love you! My wife? She means nothing! The divorce wheels are spinning as we speak! I swear it! Now, get back in this tub, Karen. Please? And bring us another pitcher of Mai Tai’s! That's a good baby. I mean KAREN!