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Lester Bangs Memorial Reading Oct 21, 2014 Grossmont faculty and alumni writers, along with special guests, read their original works of poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction in tribute to “America’s Greatest Rock Critic.” In Room 220 of Building 26. 54 other events on Tuesday, October 21
 
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Home / Articles / Arts / Letters to Santa /  Christopher Nolan's Letter to Santa
. . . .
Wednesday, Dec 22, 2010

Christopher Nolan's Letter to Santa

Inception director infiltrates St. Nick's dreams of sugarplums

By Dave Maass

Dear Santa,

My name is Christopher Nolan. I directed Memento, The Dark Knight and, you know, other films. If you could just eat the cookie I’ve enclosed before reading the rest of this letter. Yes, that’s it. Goodnight.

You’re storming out of Blip Toys’ headquarters in Minnetonka after laying it down that you won’t stocking-stuff a single Squinkie until the board kicks back a cool million to the injured reindeer recovery fund. Suddenly, a red sack is thrown over your head and you’re shoved into the cab of a snow plow. A kidnapper forces you to gulp down extremely potent eggnog. They’ve taken Frosty the Snowman, too, and he whispers that Mrs. Claus is behind it all. You lose consciousness to the patter of your elf bodyguards pelting the windows with candy canes….

You’re in a ski lodge in Aspen, sipping hot toddies with Leonardo DiCaprio, who tells you to ignore the way the room is swaying. Passing carolers are glaring. DiCaprio informs you that Mrs. Claus and Frosty have been intercepting your mail and plan to start a side racket selling childrens’ data. Now the carolers are on the ceiling, whipping you with their scarves. DiCaprio passes you a concentrated tryptophan tablet and says you can steal the secret from Mrs. Claus’ mind if you just go to sleep….
You’re at the foot of an iceberg, looking up at a gingerbread fortress. A team of Saint Bernards pulls your sled to the top, while you dodge fruitcakes from dive-bombing reindeer. You sneak in through the chimney and head straight to the cupboard, where you’ve always known Mrs. Claus hides her secret liqueurs. Yes, beneath an art-deco brandy bottle shaped like a knight standing on a film reel, there is a single envelope. You rip it open:

“BEST PICTURE: INCEPTION.”

You hear the distant melody of David Bowie and Bing Crosby’s “Little Drummer Boy.” Back at the lodge, you’re strapped into a ski-lift chair and someone’s just cut the cable. In Minnetonka, the snow plow falls through thin ice.

Wake up. You’re back in your workshop.

Santa, all I really want for Christmas is world peace. Bless you.

Chris Nolan



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