Dear Santa,

You’re probably not even talking to us anymore. After the year we’ve had, I don’t blame you. America has rarely been naughtier. This year, we went rogue. Sorry.

We did the unthinkable, the unexplainable, the unbelievable. We elected a foul-mouthed, childish, compulsive-lying, ill-informed, pervy molester to run the country for four years. While I’d like to tell you it was an accident, I’d be lying. We did it on purpose.

On the bright side, setting up the guy who has already become the worst U.S. president ever, before he even takes the oath, makes America’s other faux pas seem pretty minor.

Sorry about that mess during the Oregon standoff with a tin-foil hat brigade that occupied  the Malheur National Wildlife Refuge for weeks. I’d like to say we don’t normally let unhinged people take control of the country and the media like that, but it clearly was just a warm-up for the 2016 presidential race.

And most of us are totally embarrassed of and for North Carolina Republicans who are trying to find a way to run genital checks before using public restrooms there. Sorry.

Oh. That Supreme Court thing? Ouch. We let Republicans pull the political rug out from under the Constitution and America’s first black president for reasons worse than those who despised Donald Trump now love Donald Trump.

And with the country operating most of the time now on fake news and trying to find a way to dig up more coal, it’s pretty clear that America’s finest hour didn’t happen in 2016. We’d rather not talk about the Broncos right now.

Even so, compared to the Trump tragedy, those sins are all pretty venial. Probably an even  bigger transgression is the pounding that Trump Trolls are inflicting on people like me — people who can’t shrug off all the lies, the threats, the tweets, the grabbing, the misinformation, the disinformation, and the sheer, unbridled corruption of an international billionaire business con who’s looking to widen his horizons. Daily, I am accosted by Trump’s Troll Nation, who go from one meme and mantra to the other, depending on what the Kremlin orders for the day.

These days? It’s, “Donald Trump is YOUR president, too.”

Sort of. It’s like a family consensus that we all want a dog. Then the crazy brother-in-law with the Confederate Flag boxer shorts and big-truck, trailer-hitch-testicles brings home Muttley, and I’m  supposed to be OK with it — because I wanted a dog. I’m supposed to pretend not to notice he’s a mangy old crotch sniffer that licks himself all the time and is emotionally incontinent. I didn’t pick him. In fact, I wanted any dog except for that gassy old cur. I guess I’ll feed him, but he’s not sleeping with me. And someone else can clean up after him for the next four years.

Which brings me to my wish-list, Santa.

I know we were way bad this year, but we’re desperate. Please, Santa, don’t slide down the White House chimney and leave Trump a pile of coal. He’d just love that. He needs an adult handler. Badly. If you could find a way to leave behind some elves to keep whispering “shhhhhh” and common sense into his ear, we’d all be eternally grateful. Or, if you’re as short handed up at the North Pole as we are here in the newsroom, you can just leave a four-year supply of extended release Haldol and a neti pot.

If you’re uncomfortable with handing out downers to the president, Santa, could you just leave some for us? Either way, I think we’ll get by, at least until next Christmas.

There are, however, a few other little things, while you’re out and about. The guys who run the U.S. House and Senate, Paul Ryan and Mitch McConnell, they both desperately need back braces, seeing how they have debilitating spinal problems.

And all those members of Congress who think that we’re going to repeal Obamacare and get affordable and practical health care? They need a clue. If you could, please leave several behind.

The folks at the Capitol wringing their hands over which bathroom transgender people should and shouldn’t use? They need a life, Santa.

For me? I could use a drink to deal with all this, but I’ll settle for a few laughs. Grim is somewhat easier with a grin, or gin.

Follow @EditorDavePerry on Twitter and Facebook or reach him at 303-750-7555 or dperry@aurorasentinel.com