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Dear Santa,
I have been a good boy.
It really wasn't my fault what happened at Jesus's Christmas party. It was Judas who spiked the punch with too much pork nog. I can't help it if I drank 5 glasses. It was so good---smelled and tasted just like myrrh.
I thought it was funny when I put Moses's cloak on my head and danced the jig on the hearth while singing `O come all ye faithful'. I didn't mean to break Jesus's ark of the covenant and don't know why Jesus would sue me for laying with man as with woman.
I don't remember calling Caiaphus's wife a molten sheep---even though she looked like one with black eye shadow and grey lipstick!
And when I threw up on Mary Magdalene's husband's feet, it was only because I ate too much of that fish.
After all that fun, I admit I was a little tired. So I fell asleep on my way home and drove my cart through my neighbor's bedroom. I don't think that was any reason for my neighbor to call me a deceiving snake and have me arrested for spilling my seed upon the ground!
So, Santa...here I sit in my jail cell on Christmas Eve, all cloven and heathen. And I'm really not to blame for any of this sodden stuff. Please bring me what I want the most---bail money!
Sincerely and quickly yours,
John (Really a nice boy!)
P.S. It's only 48 bucks!
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Building an artificial intelligence that appreciates Mozart is easy. Building an A.I. that appreciates a theme restaurant is the real challenge - Kit Roebuck - Nine Planets Without Intelligent Life
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