Children’s writing Christmas letters to Satan is a time-honored tradition that stretches back to… um… What?
Most kids write letters to Santa when the holiday season comes around, but a few tikes wind up sending their holiday wishes to the Prince of Darkness himself, Lucifer, aka Satan. These kids are basically a little reckless with their spelling — or perhaps dyslexic — although a few may be young Satanists for all we know.
Back in 2014, Matt Passet of The New Yorker took it upon himself to answer the misspelled children’s letters to Satan. The results are so hilarious we felt compelled to share two of them with our readers.
I just want my mommy and daddy to get together.
Stephen, Age 11
You’re over ten. Stop telling people your age. It’s childish!
As for your mommy and daddy, I’m sensing some passive aggression in your letter. Maybe it’s my own shit, but it feels as if you’re blaming me for their separation. While I did, in fact, put Vicki from accounting in front of your father to tempt him, I did not have your father lie so unconvincingly to your mother about “working late.” I may be guilty of having that snake trick Eve, but there are some snakes that I don’t control.
But I feel bad. I’m going to send you something called an “Xbox.”
I want a computer so I can do better in school and get a good job and make lots and lots of money.
First of all, bravo for not telling me your age. You have no idea how many people are concluding their letters with this random of piece if information. It’s like, “All Best, Satan, Shoe Size 9 ½” or “Regards, Satan, 185 lbs. (190 around the holidays!).”
But, anyway, on to your letter. Being the embodiment of pure evil, I will not get you this computer. I’m not Mark Zuckerberg. (Or am I? Kidding, I’m not.) But if you really want a job that allows you to make a great deal of money in a fast and unethical way (a rather admirable goal in my opinion), you can go ahead and send me your résumé. I have a number of very close friends at Goldman Sachs.
Satan, 5′ 10″ (LOL)
For more devilish fun, read the full article at the New Yorker.