Monday, December 21, 2009

A Very Perry Christmas

As any fairly consistent reader of this blog can attest to, when Steve Perry celebrates a holiday, he goes all out. He doesn't fuck around, you could say. And Christmas is no exception. In fact, I am about to impart a little secret to you all that nobody else knows. And parents, I should warn you: do not let your kids read this next part. (Actually, don't let your kids read any part of this blog. It's not appropriate, and you know better.) Okay, ready? Steve Perry is actually Santa Claus.

Yes, you read that right. What, you think I'm bullshitting you?! Come on now, would I do you wrong like that? Steve Perry really is Santa Claus! Of course, like any legend, a few details have been changed to keep Steve's true identity under wraps. For example, the fat, grandfatherly-type figure with the sleigh and the reindeer and the milk and cookies is all crap. It's really just Steve, rocking one of his signature Journey outfits, tooling around in his 1963 Ford Falcon convertible, delivering gifts all over the world (FYI: the convertible can fly. It's magic.). And instead of eating the milk and cookies (or the milk and celery sticks some of you lame-os put out, and you know you put them out) he sleeps with your mom. Or your sister. Or your daughter. Pretty much any female member of your household he'll sleep with. But don't be alarmed; it's consensual and they like it. And, just like the fake Santa facade we've all grown up with, Steve does accept Christmas lists. Whether he decides to get you anything you request is really up to him (I mean, he does know what's best), but he will take your suggestions into consideration. And it's not too late to send him a little note; simply send your letter to the following address:

Steve Perry

c/o The City by the Bay

Don't Stop Believin'

Or you can leave a note in the comments section. I make no guarantees they'll be read, but have a little faith.

Merry Christmas, Perry Heads. Just remember: if you happen to hear the faint sounds of "Be Good to Yourself," "Escape," "Faithfully" or any other Journey tune on Christmas Eve, you didn't accidentally leave your CD player on. It's Santa Claus Steve, imparting to you his own brand of Christmas cheer.


  1. Dear Santa Steve,

    Please bring me a book deal from a small but influential publisher in love with my quirky brand of cheeky hyperbole.

    Gee, thanks!


  2. Dear Santa Perry (Steve Claus?),

    All I want for Christmas is a high five from YOU.


  3. Stevie Claus,

    I want a picture with you. Face it, dude, cat's out of the bag anyhow. Oh...wait. I just remembered--you're Stevie Claus! We'll end up sleeping together when you come to deliver gifts. I'll just get a pic then, no worries.

    So, um...if you could bring me either Mike Rowe or Curtis Stone instead, that would be great. K thx.