Perpetual Xmastime

Mormon Santa fills out a Random Christmas Survey!

What is the most expensive thing on your Christmas wish list?
I don't make Christmas wish lists. I veto them.

What do you want this year?
Same thing I always want. To watch a three-way between Brad, Angelina, and Jen. And Asia Argento.

Which reindeer is your favorite?
The spit-roasted one I harvested with my crossbow.

Big tree or small tree?
My little angel tree-topper has never had a complaint.

Do you get a lot of presents?
YES! That new GPS you wished for? I kept it. I decorate my tree with them all.

What is your favorite Christmas movie?
Any of porn superstar Peter North's 'North Pole' series.

What is your favorite Christmas song?
'Merry Mormon Xmas'

Red, green, or white lights?
Please, only the black ones work with florescent body paints.

Any Christmas traditions?
Just digging up the rifle, cleaning it, and burying it again, but deeper.

How will you spend Christmas?
With my family, since it's their last.

Is your house decorated?
Yes! Strung with all of your iPhone 3Gs! Wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!

Do you get all dressed up?
Well, not 'all the way'...

Favorite Christmas memory?
Relabeling all the baby Jesus' gold as 'From: Santa, To: Santa'.

When I say 'Christmas' what is the first thing that comes to mind?
Shopping -- for Christ, of course. No, those Norelco shaver commercials.

What is your Christmas wish?
Sarah Palin appears on Martha Stewart and shares a 'Spit-Roasted Reindeer' recipe. Oh, and that I can buy up a few more auto companies before this darn recession ends.

Mrs. Mormon Santa's Health

Dear Friends and Ladies,

I want to thank everyone who has sent their inquiries and best wishes regarding Mrs. Mormon Santa and her health. It is much appreciated and most touching to learn how loved she is by all of you.

I just checked the webcam in our home ICU and I am pleased to report that she seems to be sleeping quite comfortably now. As many of you know, the poor thing has struggled through one health issue after another -- several bad falls, a variety of rare tropical diseases and outerspace viruses, medication and household product mishaps, sewer asp bites, and at least one traumatic close call involving a crossbow.

Sometimes a coma is a blessing. All she needs now is some rest, which thankfully, she is getting. And -- another good sign -- the sex has never been better!

Sadly, I've lost all of my other twelve beloved brides since New Year's. We live in a very remote area with a major crossbow problem, and life here is hard enough. Indeed, I've become no stranger to depression. There are periods when I can barely manage tending to even my own basic needs, things as simple as going online to order more crossbow arrows. I don't know what I'd do if I lost my dear Cheri as well, but I do have some good ideas for the room. Maybe the scooter half-pipe she always wanted.

Please keep her in your thoughts and prayers, and I'll keep you posted on her progress and when another mummification ritual is imminent. This one's a cloner! Send cloves, canopic jars and gauze if you have to send something. I'd need to do up her little dog Mister Quibbles, too.

My love and sincerest gratitude,

Mormon

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bleaching, but was the cause of some inflammation. "You may lower your skirt now, Kitty." Everyone's attention now turned to Mormon Santa. Laughing at something, he only rose for an instant when Raytasha returned from the bidettorium, and, with the lack of courtesy to ladies characteristic of a paternal deity, he scarcely bowed, unconvincingly feigning some species of hip problem. Then in a sudden and overdue fit of hygiene, he proceeded to scrape his tongue, finessing a stainless steel dental scraper over its dorsal and sensitive anterior regions with practiced but unnerving precision. "I've been worried about Vernessa," he said, pausing to strop the tool along the length of Tadimir's red velvet necktie. "See didt sleeph well, an is dweadfulwey tiwersome toadey." The conversation Raytasha had started with Kitty was running on the same lines as on the previous evening, discussing Vladrew, and whether love is to be put higher than worldly considerations. "Love is the answer," interjected Mormon Santa. "That is, if the question happens to be: ‘How would I characterize my feelings for fur sacks full of gold and chocolate-dipped Pomeranian puppy hearts!'" Raytasha disliked this interruption, and she was disturbed both by the subject and the tone in which it was conducted, and no less by the fact that it was punctuated with piquant puffs of freshly raked oral plaque. But she was too simple and syphilitic to know how to cut short this conversation or even to conceal the superficial pleasure afforded her by Mormon Santa’s very obvious and growing admiration. "I see you've spotted Saint Dicholas," whispered Mormon Santa, pointing discreetly to an enormous portrait with the tip of his instrument. "Thankfully, photography wasn’t something available to him in his day. The thong, of course, was added later."