If I Were A Claus

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Despite not having watched A Diva’s Christmas Carol yet, or snacked on too many of my mama’s cookies, or cursing out a relative for cursing out all of the other ones, I’m slowly starting to get in the spirit of Christmas.

Well, as much as a heathen who hasn’t gone Christmas shopping at all (or church, for that matter — Jesus is the reason and stuff) possibly can.

[Read this part in a Kat Stacks voice, please.] “Anyway, doe.”

Regardless of how I’m feeling (or not), I still want to chime in and continue on with the holiday tradition of slick ass talk from me under the guise of gift giving.

That said, let’s get going, kids.

If I were Santa, here’s what I would give some of your favorites – particularly your least.

Nicole Scherzinger: The realization that this solo singing career thing is simply not going to happen and a stern warning from Scary Spice to go and ahead and try something else before it’s too late.

Waka Flocka Flame: Reading Rainbow: The Complete DVD Collection, all of Dr. Seuss’ books, a speech coach, and Hooked on Phonics.

Raz-B: A self-book not called The Bible. Or better yet, a month-long stay at a psychiatric center near you. I’d also hand him a hammer to break his Web cam with.

Keri Hilson: A vacation for her vagina. Lord knows it could use it considering all of the overtime it has put in to promote No Boys Allowed. And in a perfect world, I’d give her a time machine so she can go back and erase “The Way You Love Me” video from public record. Oh and that Beyoncé shade she threw a while back (and continues to sling when she thinks we don’t notice) — that’s only making matters worse.

Ciara: A session with Jazze Phae. I could add more, but you all saw the projections for her first week sales of Basic Instinct. Hasn’t she suffered enough? No, well fine then. She could also use a new choreographer and a break from the Kardashian krew. Why don’t all of the fledgling singers realize only Kim can get away with being famous for not a damn thing?

Kat Stacks: A new crotch, self-esteem transplant, and ESL classes.

Bow Wow: A stern talking to from Will Smith about knowing when to end a rap career. Alternative gift idea: The height to match his overinflated ego.

Rihanna: Twirk lessons. Supply the rum and I’m there to get my each one, teach one on.

Ronald The McDonald and the Wendy’s girl: Their thunder back.

Foxy Brown: A refill of her medication, a new lipstick color, a gym membership and diet plan. Also, I’d love to hand her a clue that the antics of yesterdecade won’t work anymore because she’s no longer a teenager and we’re no longer amused.

Kelly Rowland: An identity. A hit. I don’t know, something to help the situation.

John McCain: A trap door to fall through. Alternative idea: The chance for me to play the role of “The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come” and show Sen. McCain how cruel history will be towards him for bitterly trying to impede progress. The jackass.

Kanye West: Self-control.

Sarah Palin: An all expense paid trip to a deserted island.

Taylor Swift: A dinner between her and an actual victim. That way, she can know what one of those actually looks and sounds like.

Drake: The time alone with Lil’ Wayne that it’s pretty evident he still yearns for. No, I’m not making it sexual. You are. Nasty.

Ne-Yo: A visit from Michael Jackson’s ghost asking him to do something, anything, that doesn’t remind him and the rest of us of the “Smooth Criminal” video.

Christina Aguilera: For it to click in her brain that faux lesbianism, relentless discussions about her sexual exploits (real and contrived, see pretend lesbianism reference), and the same old runs are not what a lasting pop star make.

Dallas, Texas: The recognition people are currently giving California for the latest instances of the described “dance craze” in rap. Afterall they’re the ones who came up with the stuff.

The state of California: The end of the three-hour tape delay. It’s a metaphor for many things. See above. #shade

Teairra Mari: Direction. For real this time.

Tyrese: A permanent banishment from Twitter and any other forum where he might try to pass off that two-bit “wisdom” he stole from the hood Chinese carryouts and crazy old ladies across America.

Steve Harvey’s readers: Another way than this.

Lil’ Kim: Two years ago, I wanted to give her a black woman’s face again. But, after her antics this year – including that delusional and petty interview she gave to Angie Martinez on Hot 97 – she deserves to look as stupid as she sounds. May she continue to embarrass herself and soil her own legacy. Now, if Faith Evans weren’t a much mature woman than she, I’d give Lil’ Kim her fourth beat down at the hands of the real Mrs. Wallace for Christmas. And post-Faith fist of fury fallout, I’d have Charlie Baltimore standing over Kim’s face like Smokie and say, “Man! You got knocked the fuck out!” Nicki Minaj would do the national anthem, of course. Unfortunately, it’s no longer 1998 and everyone else has moved on. Merry Christmas, you damn fruitcake. Here’s your Christmas card.

As for what I want, the same things only I’m doing even more to get them. Smiles and shit.

Fa la la la, folks.

Also: Do check out 2008’s version of “If I Were A Claus.” It’s highly unfortunate how many of those are still very much relevant. Click me.

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