I don't know about you, but I've been getting a lot of heartwarming Christmas cards this yuletide season from President-elect (allegedly) Joe Biden's ministers and ambassadors of healing and reconciliation. They've touched me in such a deep, special place that I must share such glad tidings of great joy with a weary nation.

Take Secretary of Kink Katie Hill as just one example. The former congresswoman from California let me know via her drunken mistletoe that my vote for Trump made me truly unique: "Because y'all are the biggest bunch of f***ers in history. Stop being that and unity/healing will be a hell of a lot easier."

What a glorious thorn ... err ... olive branch. I will cherish it always.

Not to be outdone in the area of feminine grace was Secretary of Washed-Up Actors Debra Messing, who cheerfully shared to the tune of "All I Want for Christmas" her blessed hope that Trump would one day be anally raped in prison. Come, let us adore him, indeed.

Sometimes, though, Christmas cards are so full of love and tenderness that they have to be deleted from Twitter out of embarrassment for just loving too darn much. It happens.

Then there's our emissary of Woke Sports, ESPN analyst Domonique Foxworth, who said that his 12 days of Christmas all involve rooting for Buffalo Bills quarterback Josh Allen to fail. All because Allen's supporters unfortunately exposed their chestnuts over an open fire by being "people with American flags" in their social media profiles. And this island of misfit toys probably knows all the words to "Grandma Got Ran Over by a Reindeer," too, when what they really need to know is Foxworth's preferred pronouns are "he hate me."

But you want to know what spreads more Christmas cheer than singing loud for all to hear? How about hating Abraham Lincoln! I mean, obviously. Yep, Honest Abe may get the boot from the name of a San Francisco high school because he failed to demonstrate to the Secretary of Orwellian Education that "black lives matter to him." Well, except for that one silent night John Wilkes Booth decked the halls of Ford Theater with his brain matter, I guess.

This is the season of giving, after all, and I just need more in my stocking than the Great Emancipator can ever offer me. Thankfully, this is 2020, when Christmas miracles abound. Like when Ambassador of Victimhood Noah Berlatsky said, "Parents are tyrants. 'Parent' is an oppressive class, like rich people or white people." Indeed, Mary did you know ... that you were on your way to a Klan meeting?

Now some may be tempted to tell all these fiends to shove it up their North Poles. But to that I say "bah humbug." As we all know, Tiny Tim was just an unviable tissue mass riddled with tumors. In fact, it would have been best for him to be aborted before he was born, to cut down on the surplus population.

Likewise, we should feel honored to be ruled by such wise non-binary beings as currently reside at the New England Journal of Medicine. Away in their manger, the gifts they have to offer are stocking stuffers like this recent quote: "Sex designations on birth certificates offer no clinical utility, and they can be harmful for intersex and transgender people. Moving such designations below the line of demarcation would not compromise the birth certificate's public health function but could avoid harm."

Nary a prophet of old has spoken so much unbridled joy to the world. The science or something has come, so let every heart prepare room for the knowledge that biology is now bigotry.

Therefore, understand this, and understand it well — "Little Drummer Boy" is his dead name now. He henceforth goes by the Twitter handle "Zinnia, adult demon female," and it calls for all children to be put on puberty blockers until they can make their own "informed" decision about their gender. You never saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus, because mommies are merely oppressive constructs of the patriarchy.

Hark, the trans angels sing!

Merry Christmas, ya bunch of f***ers.