Yourselftrailer Park ... - Dear Santa Claus: Go Fuck

This post captures the gritty, bourbon-soaked spirit of a trailer park Christmas, where the lights are tangled, the heater is broken, and the holiday cheer is served in a dented tin cup. Dear Santa Claus: Go Fuck Yourself Dear Santa,

I’m writing this by the glow of a single strand of flickering multi-colored lights—half of which are burnt out—taped to the side of a 1974 single-wide. I’d tell you to “Ho-Ho-Ho” your way down the chimney, but since we don’t have one, and the roof is currently held together by a prayer and some industrial-grade tarp, you’d probably just fall through and crush my last good recliner. So, let’s be real for a second: Go fuck yourself. Dear Santa Claus: Go Fuck YourselfTrailer Park ...

Specifically, that it stops humming like a jet engine and starts actually keeping the generic-brand beer cold. This post captures the gritty, bourbon-soaked spirit of