A Letter From The Frontline Of The War On Christmas
Dear Samantha, I regret to write that the generals have revoked our furloughs to come home before Christmas, and it's back to the trenches for me.
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My Dearest Samantha,
I regret to write that the generals have revoked our furloughs to come home at all before Christmas, and it’s back to the trenches for me and my 101st Snowborne Division brothers in the forests around the liberals’ heavily fortified trenches at the North Pole.
Things haven’t been progressing well for us here on the Northern Front. The liberals have taken Santa hostage, and are forcing the Elves into forced labor day and night building artillery guns and rounds in Santa’s Workshop which kill a lot of our men. They also conduct airs raids from above with Santa’s reindeer. Our conservative platoons can’t get close to the liberals’ trenches.
The Democrats just have an unshakeable, Satanic, communist resolve to end Christmas once and for all. But we are holding onto hope that we can make a breakthrough somewhere, and free Santa and the Elves in time for Christmas. Millions of good little children across America are depending on us.
But, Martha, oh how I miss snuggling with you at night. I haven’t been getting much sleep at all these weeks because the liberals probe our defensive lines both day and night looking for weak points to push through. We are on high alert always, and we’re bombarded several times daily.
The liberals will fire a series of volleys of metal menorahs, then copies of the Koran, and then Black Santa dolls. They try to force us underground while they creep up underneath their artillery barrages to get close enough to our trenches to toss in hundreds of coffee cups that say “Happy Holidays” on them instead of “Merry Christmas.” It’s terrifying when one lands right next to you. They also toss in smoke bombs that shoot out smoke 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 diversity attacks, bombs of tolerance, and reminders of America’s religious multiculturalism.
It’s very tough to stay positive, and our officers struggle to keep up the morale. Sometimes the liberals fly over us on Santa’s sleigh, and drop propaganda leaflets to discourage us. The leaflets will say things like how Jesus really wasn’t born on December 25th, and that He wasn’t blonde or blue-eyed, and that Christmas trees are a pagan tradition, and that corporations are warranted in being inclusive of all religious faiths and December holidays, not just the Christian Christmas.
But we try to keep the spirit of Christmas 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 the North Pole from the liberals’ secular invasion. It’s a very small daily ritual, but, amidst all the liberal godlessness and Satanism, 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 turn Muslim after he got hit by a Koran.
Oh, Martha, I hope everyone back home appreciates and honors the sacrifices me and the boys are making here on the frontlines. I regretfully think about all the good Christmas memories I’m missing out on this year. I can’t even remember what eggnog tastes like. The only thing we have to drink is vegan almond milk that our patrols find in abandoned liberal stashes. We of course never take any of their jars of baby blood they’ve left behind.
I shudder to think how you might not even recognize me if I somehow manage to get through this war alive. My red and green sweaters have been torn to shreds, my Santa hat has bullet holes in it, 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.
To keep Christmas live in our hearts, we spend the time in between the liberals’ artillery barrages singing Christmas carols, and acting out scenes from A Christmas Carol. We had a good laugh because my buddy Tommy now makes the perfect Tiny Tim because he’s been using crutches ever since he got hit in the knee by a dreidel sniper a couple days ago.
But I miss you so much, Martha. The nights are very lonely. We have orders to maintain a total blackout at night, which means we can’t have any light strands, candles, or Christmas-themed inflatables anywhere. We’ve had to blacken our gold and silver cross necklaces so they don’t reflect moonlight or flarelight, and give away our positions. It’s the saddest December you’ve ever seen. What I would give to come home just for one day with you to cuddle next to our Christmas tree.
But someday we will defeat the liberals, and be free to celebrate Christmas the way we want again. Religious freedom will return to America, and everyone will have to celebrate Christmas the way we Christians want them to. We’ll never have to ever again see any evidence that there are other religions practiced in America besides Christianity, or there are other holidays in December besides Christmas. That’s what we’re fighting for: forcing our Christmas traditions upon everyone else in America.
Much love to you always, Martha,
John
Thanks for your eyeballs!
—Dash MacIntyre
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