Nothing says "War On Christmas" like a bunch of lousy little gifts bought in bulk for $28K-a-year junior staffers, or the local crack addict ringing the (fake) Salvation Army bell outside the CVS, or the office shitbird who brings a $2 bottle of undrinkable Charles Shaw to your holiday party you spent a thousand bucks stocking with good food and wine, or the 6 lbs. of LL Bean and Crate & Barrel catalogs crammed in your broken mailbox every single day, or the giant DC rats gnawing through the caterer's trash on Embassy Row, or the cheerful sight of an abandoned date-rape preppie gal passed out in the gutter a half block from Smith Point.
Wonkette's War On Christmas Gift Guide
Wonkette's War On Christmas Gift Guide
Wonkette's War On Christmas Gift Guide
Nothing says "War On Christmas" like a bunch of lousy little gifts bought in bulk for $28K-a-year junior staffers, or the local crack addict ringing the (fake) Salvation Army bell outside the CVS, or the office shitbird who brings a $2 bottle of undrinkable Charles Shaw to your holiday party you spent a thousand bucks stocking with good food and wine, or the 6 lbs. of LL Bean and Crate & Barrel catalogs crammed in your broken mailbox every single day, or the giant DC rats gnawing through the caterer's trash on Embassy Row, or the cheerful sight of an abandoned date-rape preppie gal passed out in the gutter a half block from Smith Point.