Another sh**ty Christmas

I don't know what the problem is. Every year that portly bastard, Santa Claus, lets me down. All I ask is that he bring those damned goyim that are the Toyz the Christmas gifts that they really NEED. Every year I send him a letter at his stupid North Pole address (with its ridiculous 'H0H 0H0' Canadian postal code), outlining what the Toyz need to survive another year on the road.

What...? There's no such person as Santa Claus? Yeah, nice try. I know there is. He just likes to mess with us Hebrew kids.

Anyway, instead of sending a stupid letter to the jolly f**king fatman next year, I thought I'd save myself some trouble for next year. I figure all of you out there (the 3 of you who actually read this non-sensical crap) can help me round up the boys gifts well in advance (and while I still have some of my Hanukkah money left). So here's a short rundown of items that are needed to fulfill the Toyz Christmas wish lists for 2010 (or at least the shit they need to stay alive until 2011).

Likki Stixx:
A year-long course of the world's strongest anti-biotics to kill that goddamned tapeworm that has been living in Likki's gut for the past 30 years. There no way in hell that a guy who drinks upwards of thirty shots during each and every show, and whose favorite food is the 1040 calorie, 70 grams-of-fat-containing Carl's Jr. "Guacamole Bacon Six Dollar Burger", should weigh 98 pounds soaking wet. For God's sake! Help the man absorb a nutrient or two!

Dannii Lee Damage:
Did you ever notice how, since the fall of the U.S.S.R. a few years ago, everything seems to contain Titanium? The Ruskies had thousands of nuclear missles decommissioned as they slid into oblivion. And every one of those damned warheads was sheathed in that next-to-indestructible element. So I figure, when you think of all the nasty places Damage has stuck his 'heat-seeking moisture-missile' (Jenna Jameson, Sarah Palin... Betty White!), we have a new generation of vaginas to protect. So if someone could track down a Titanium-reinforced condom (or a dozen), the labia of the next few decades could breathe(?) a sigh of relief.

Tommy Gunns:
I have had the privilege, over the last decade or two, of logging a lot of road miles with the Toyz. Long nights in a van that smells of Likki's ass and gets about 3 miles to the gallon. And, if there's one thing that's worse than Likki's flatulence (ok... nothing is that bad, but you get my drift here) it's those times when everyone is sleeping (or getting blown in the far back bench seat). Everyone but Tommy Gunns (he needs no sleep on the road, he just recharges with his semi-annual month-long sessions in his hyperbaric chamber). That's the time when he decides to prove that he is the funniest f**king man on the planet and feels the need to tell me the worst jokes in the history of bad jokes. Please, someone buy him some DVD's of real comedians. People who are genuinely funny: George Carlin, Richard Pryor, Eddie Murphy (before the '90's)... Bobcat Goldthwait, Emo Phillips... anyone. Maybe he'll get it. Bad puns about 'sandy eggos' and 'wasabi' are NOT funny. Not even a bit (regardless of what my girlfriend says, Tommy).

Johnny Emaxx:
Ok... I'm a little stuck here. I don't know what Emaxx needs. To be completely honest, I've known this guy for a long time and, really, I know next to nothing about him. He can sing his ass off, he plays a mean guitar, falls right into the pocket playing bass... etc., etc. But other than that I'm at a loss. He's already got it all. Houses (all heavily mortgaged). Cars (all leased or stolen). Gold (his intestine is lined with gold flake, courtesy of gallons of Goldschlager). What the hell do you get the man who has every... Oh! Hold on! I've got it! Let's kill two birds with one stone here. F**k Likki's gift. Let's just knock Likki and Johnny out. We'll cut Likki open, yank out his greedy little tapeworm and slide it down Emaxx' gullet. Likki will be able to pack on a pound or two and Emaxx will find it easier to maintain his, uh, girlish figure.

So, there you have it. Let's get a jump on this now, so we're not scrambling like chickens with our heads cut off on Dec. 24th next year. And if you should see Johnny Emaxx with his boot about a foot up my ass, because he read this post and has taken issue with my gift suggestion, kindly give me a hand, would ya?

Happy New Year. See ya, Jan. 5th at Morgan's, for the first Toyz show of 2010.

Shalom,

Eli Finkelstein (Cy's kid)