Dear Crystal Lane Residents,

First of all, happy holidays! I hope this letter finds you and your families well during the season of good cheer. Of course, I have no doubt we all wish that for one another, even if you mistakenly left it out of your many letters to me and my family. I simply want to remind everyone in this neighborhood what civility looks like.

With that in mind, I'd also like to suggest that, in the days leading up to the 25th, you take the opportunity to focus some of that energy you would ordinarily spend hand-writing my family complaints about the way we celebrate Christmas, and instead redirect that fervor and that hand to more constructive pursuits, like fucking yourself.

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I'm not taking down my lightshow and that's final.

Now, I haven't been invited into many of your houses (despite the fact that my wife made you a memorable-as-fuck tuna casserole when we moved in), but, judging by your attitudes, I'm going to assume that the insides must look like prehistoric caves with mammoth vacuums and pterodactyl telephones. They'd have to because there's no goddamn way you sons of bitches would be trying to Scrooge me in the ass if you had the modern conveniences of computers and Internet access. If you had those things, you'd already know the insane traffic my family has been pulling for the last two years from the YouTube videos of our lightshows. That's right. We're famous and you whining pile of suburban nobodies wants to break the best thing that has ever happened to this community.

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Oh, no! The 15 families on this street are fed up with the "light pollution" and the "barrage of pop music played at full volume!" Well, please apologize to your sandy orifices on my behalf, but the 565 fucking people who thumbs-upped last year's video don't seem to agree. This is bigger than all of us, this is motherfucking Christmas and I'll be damned if we're not going to celebrate the shit out of the birth of our Savior with Gangnam Style on repeat and a strobe wattage that can be seen from space.