Oh, Santa, Grant These Few Wishes

Dear Santa,
Since you are in the business of granting wishes, and I watched the Thanksgiving Day Parade from New York City where, across Macy’s was written “Believe,” how about working a few miracles and make these things come true?
Virtually every advertisement I’ve seen for gift giving, save clothes and jewelry, comes with a power requirement. Since that is true, could you grant us magical electric power?
I mean, Santa, if your sleigh is filled with 80-inch televisions, computer gadgets and everything from coffee makers to automatic hammers, how are we going to make them all work? And what will we do when blizzards come and strike down our power lines?
Folks are mad as the Grinch about good old B.L. England Generating Station in Beesley’s Point. Sure it gives us electrical power, but now it’s in the crosshairs of environmentalists who don’t want it to burn coal because coal pollutes the air through which you and your reindeer fly. Is there no balm in your bag, sir?
Nobody wants to see more nuclear power plants, even though they give lots of bang for the buck. So, Santa, what’s a guy to do looking at all those ads?
They haven’t invented a wind-up television set that would allow us to get away from the grid. Likewise they must have hot-air-powered computers on the drawing boards, because that’s all we seem to be getting when it comes to new power creation.
They don’t make wind-powered stereo (do they still call them that?) systems, so, you see, you’ve got to grant us a few simple wishes before Christmas Eve when you zip south, west and east from the North Pole.
I can hear what you say about solar and wind turbines. They do the job, but there are all sorts of nasty notions there, too. There is a property in Lower Township where solar panels were installed, and there was nothing but complaints because they were big and black and looked like a shiny billboard.
Windmills (you probably call then wind turbines up there in Noth Pole) are also a great idea to generate power for one’s home, but try to put one up, and all the neighbors will holler.
They will claim the thing is way too high, and will kill someone if and when it topples in a wind storm. If they can get over that, then they will beef about the sound of the turbine turning.
Worse, if they surmount both of those gripes, then bird lovers are sure to stand up for the rights of migrating flocks, and say that turbines kill birds.
Even children are not exempt from these woes, oh whiskered one. Consider swell plastic miniature cars for kiddies about 3 or 4 years old that work on rechargeable batteries, and scoot along at about a quarter mph. Even they have to be plugged in to make the thing work.
Sure, there are those terribly old-fashioned pedal-powered cars, but they have as much fascination for today’s kiddies as an empty jar of peanut butter.
Come on, Mr. Claus, you must have some bright ideas how we’re supposed to have our cake and eat it too. We want all-electric homes and even cars, but we refuse to concede the need to have ugly places that generate power for all these toys for children and adults.
Maybe you can do a low swing over Lower Township. That’s where a man owns a wood-burning boiler, that ought to be the dream of every environmentalist. It does a terrific job of heating water. It’s not on the grid, yet the neighbors want it gone. They say it smokes up the neighborhood. A little Christmas magic there would certainly be appreciated, Santa.
Everybody wants cheap, quality stuff, clothes to grub, no exceptions. (I know what you say, we get what we pay for, but American’s don’t believe that line.) That’s like you saying you want warmth at the North Pole; you can’t have it both ways. You get your wish, your house and workshop melt away in a puddle, then we’re all in a pickle when it comes to granting wishes.
With those thoughts in mind, can you give us several million jobs that pay well, put our masses to work, use domestic goods that are dirt cheap, and give those workers comfy retirement checks after 20 or 25 years? Please, Santa, I know you can do it.
While we’re on that line of thinking, could you do some serious exploration and find us a few never-ending, North American oil wells that will allow us to have cheap gasoline so we won’t have to fund those Middle East sheiks in their Rolls Royces?
Finally, Santa, please bring us a million or two tractor-trailer loads of gold so we can grant the wishes of all those chaps who are casting about the cities demanding everything for free. They must believe in you, too, Santa, because their protest signs demand everything from free college educations to free clothes, pup tents and food.
Santa, don’t leave us stranded. We can’t get by without you here.
I promise to be good. I won’t curse when people cut me off on the highway as they chatter away on their cell phone. I’ll keep my thoughts to myself about the judicial system. I won’t even beef about having to fork over my money for taxes. All I ask is that you grant these wishes on or before Dec. 31. Thank you, Santa, and Happy New Year to you, Mrs. Claus and the elves.