Glad to hear from you again. I was getting worried. Irish Whiskey seems to be one of my Beverages Of Choice and one that I actually keep on hand. I shall start putting some out and hope the house brownies and the other wee folk and local critters don't party too hard in your honor. They got a little out of hand waiting for the Sussex Suspects of delivery elves that took their time in getting here and enabled things to turn into nightly drunken singarounds that seemed to increase in size every night, as chronically chronicled in last year's threads. Your elves will have a fine reception waiting for them even if the guests might've forgotten what they were celebrating by that time. But Irish Whiskey it shall be!

Mules, however, I've never dealt with in a Christmas context before.
Is this going to be more of a Frankie Laine-type Mule Train or closer to that of Spike Jones? How many of them have to be fed? I have an antique cardboard advertising sign hanging in my laundry area dated 1915 for 20 Mule Team Borax and showing One of said teams in Death valley somewhere. (It's next to another sign advertising the Savage Wringerless Washer-Dryer with the "exclusive Spin Rinse-Spin Dry", but I digress). Anyway, do your elves have any Holiday Mule Train songs that might need to be entered into the Digital Tradition and shared with both the assembled Mudcat Multitudes and those few with some assembly still required but batteries included?
I'm sure we'd all like to hear them.

And, of course, I learned from watching Our Gang/Little Rascals comedies such as "Free Wheeling" and "Honky Donky" what happens when mules and hard liquor meet. So keep them away from the Irish Whiskey so as they don't get to acting like poor Algebra, beacase Spanky and Scotty are no longer around with the alarm clock to save you! If they start singing, there's not much of a market here for "Mew-ell Sing We Clear". And if too much damage is inflicted, people will stop believing, and you can't sue somebody you don't believe in for damages. Which kind of leaves....well, you get the idea!

So I await their arrival with breath that, while somewhat baited, probably cannot match that of a mule team. And if this works out, I can compose a Holiday Opera called "A Mule & The Night Visitors" and retire on royalties and residuals.

So get cracking the whip, Dear Santa, (or if you're female, a few discreet flicks of your lashes would do) and I'll faithfully await your arrival.