“Dear Santa, Hi. It’s me, John. The Craft Joint John. You know, the one that loves craft beer. The one that loves craft beer and writes about it for thingsmenbuy.com. That narrows it down and makes it easier for you, right? Good. Look, I’m going to make it easy for you. All I want for Christmas is craft beer. American brewed, please. Nothing wrong with out of country beer. I like many. I drink them sometimes. But, as you know, I generally drink and support independent brewers as much as I can that are right here in the USA.”
On The Naughty List
“Okay. By now I imagine you’ve checked me out and figured out exactly who I am. But before you crumple this letter allow me to plead my case. Sure. You have me on the naughty list. No surprise. Consider the source, will ya?”
“You probably checked with my girlfriend and she said that, “hell yeah, he’s one naughty mofo!” That shouldn’t immediately relegate me to YOUR naughty list. Come on, Santa. I imagine Mrs. Claus might say you belong on a naughty list too…HER naughty list. We’re all men here. We get a little cray cray now and then. I think that’s something we’d brag about and not punish. Give a brother a break, you know? And about the Mrs. Claus thing, I say, “right on you reindeer wrangling bearded sleigh rider!”
Don’t Listen to THEM
“Back to me. I’m thinking you heard from some bar owners that have said I’ve been naughty. Alright, a lot of bar owners. And bartenders, and servers, and customers in the bar. Well, all the naughty naysaying has to be good naughty and not bad naughty. I just like to have fun. I can get a little loud at times, and rowdy. Is it a bad thing that sometimes I’m the only one dancing at the bar? Or harassing, good-naturedly mind you, that idiot at the jukebox that played a crappy song? Or verbally lambasted those plebeians for ordering and, holy shit, drinking that piss-water so-called beer? Or loudly rooting for the OTHER team because some tanked loser sports fanboy was acting like a little crybaby bitch because HIS team got screwed by the ref? Or telling some impatient jerkwad that he needs a shower and a breath mint because he got all pissy about having to wait two minutes to get served when the bartender is in the weeds and then the impatient asswipe stiffs the bartender? Or trying to hustle a few bucks at the bar by encouraging some wet-behind-the-ears three-quarters in the bag frat boys to join me in a not so friendly game of 3 card monte that they can’t possibly win?”
“All that stuff I feel compelled to do in bars is not naughty. It’s fun loving. Santa, you need to get some details. Get the whole story. Nobody is hurt…at least not permanently. It’s simply a little adult fun. They always welcome me back in. Almost always. Sometimes. Being a really good tipper may have something to do with that which is another reason that I shouldn’t be on the bad naughty list.”
“Please, Santa, overlook all the things that, on the surface, might put me on the trash heap. The drinking, the carousing, the cock-eyed egoism, the rowdiness, etc. It’s all innocent man fun. I know you have to throw down now and them, especially after all the deliveries for Christmas. I can see you hanging out in your wife-beater (no offense to the Mrs.) tank top with an ice cold frosty in hand, yelling at the tube while binge-watching all the Die Hard flicks…again. Hey, you deserve it.”
Please, Please…Christmas Craft Beer!
“I think I deserve it too. At least deserve a break or a little fellow bro-sideration. Santa, please. All I want for Christmas is some tasty, American brewed, independently owned, high alcohol (wink, wink) craft beer! To sweeten the deal, you can take a little break during your impossible night and knock back a tasty brew with me before finishing those deliveries. What do ya say, Santa? Deal? I’m thinking yes. I’ll be waiting…and grateful.”
Merry Christmas.