Santa was very cross. It was Christmas Eve and NOTHING
was going right. Mrs Claus had burned all the cookies. The elves were complaining about not getting paid for the overtime they had
while making the toys. The reindeer had been drinking all afternoon and were dead drunk. To make matters worse, they had taken the sleigh out for a spin earlier in the day and had crashed it into a tree. Santa was furious. "I can't believe it! I've got to deliver millions of presents all over the world in just a few hours - all of my reindeer are drunk, the elves are on strike and I don't even have a Christmas tree! I sent that stupid Little Angel out HOURS ago to find a tree and he isn't even back yet! What am I going to do?" Just then, the Little Angel opened the front door and stepped in from the snowy night, dragging a Christmas tree. He says "Yo, fat man! Where do you want me to stick the tree this year?"
And thus the tradition of angels atop the Christmas trees came to pass........
A New York City Christmas
'Twas the night before Christmas da whole house was mellow
not a creature was stirrin' I had a gun unda my pillow
When up on da roof I hoid somet'in pound I sprung to da window to scream "KEEP IT DOWN!"
When what to my wanderin' eyes should appear but dat hairy elf, Vinnie and eight friggin' reindeer
Wit a bad hackin' cough and da stench o' boiped beer I knowed in a moment Yo, da Kringle dude wuz here!
Wit a slap to dere snouts and a yank on dere manes he cursed and he shouted and called dem by name
Yo Tony, Yo Frankie Yo Sally, Yo Vito Ay Joey, Ay Paulie
Ay Pepe', Ay Guido
As I drew out my gun and hid by da bed down came his friggin' boot on da top o' my head
His eyes wuz all bloodshot his B.O. was scary his breath was like sewage he had a mole dat wuz hairy
He spit in my eye and he twisted my head he soon let me know
I should consider myself dead
Den pointin' a fat finga right unda my nose he let out some gas
and up da chimney he rose
He sprang to his sleigh obscenities a-screamin' and away dey all flew before he troo dem a beatin'
But I hoid him exclaim or better yet - grump Merry Christmas to all and bite me, ya chump!
National Geographic sent a photo-journalist up north to document the way of life of the Canadian Eskimo. After a week living with an Eskimo family, he was ready to send a package of film footage back to his boss. It was just 2 weeks before Xmas and he was concerned how long it would take to be delivered. He discussed the situation with Nakimo, the father of the family. Later that day, Nakimo left his igloo and went out for awhile. When he returned, he was dragging a seal behind him. Asked why he was doing such a thing, Nakimo said to the journalist, "You said you didn't think they would delivery package quickly this time of year without a Christmas Seal."
THE REAL 12 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS:
December 14th
Dearest John:
I went to the door today and the postman delivered a partridge in a pear tree. What a delightful gift. I couldn't have been more surprised.
With dearest love and affection, Agnes
December 15th
Dearest John:
Today the postman brought your very sweet gift. Just imagine, turtle doves. I'm just delighted at your very thoughtful gift. They are just adorable.
All my love, Agnes
December 16th
Dear John:
Oh, aren't you the extravagant one! Now I must protest. I don't
deserve such generosity. Three french hens. They are just darling but I must insist... you're just too kind.
Love Agnes
December 17th
Dear John:
Today the postman delivered four calling birds. Now really! They are beautiful, but don't you think enough is enough? You're being too romantic.
Affectionately, Agnes
December 18th
Dearest John:
What a surprise! Today the postman delivered five golden rings. One for each finger. You're just impossible, but I love it. Frankly,John, all those squawking birds were beginning to get on my nerves.
All my love, Agnes
December 19th
Dear John:
When I opened the door there were actually six geese a-laying on my front steps. So you're back to the birds again, huh? Those geese are huge. Where will I ever keep them? The neighbors are complaining and I can't sleep through the racket. Please stop!
Cordially, Agnes
December 20th
John:
What's with you and those fucking birds???? Seven swans a-swimming. What kind of goddam joke is this? There's bird shit all over the house and they never stop the racket. I'm a nervous wreck and I can't sleep all night. It's not funny! So stop with those fucking birds.
Sincerely, Agnes
December 21st
Ok Buster:
I think I prefer the birds. What the hell am I going to do with eight maids a-milking? It's not enough with all those birds and eight maids a-milking, but they had to bring their own goddam cows. There is shit all over the lawn and I can't move into my own house. Just lay off me. Smart ass.
Ag
December 22nd
Hey Shithead:
What are you? Some kind of sadist? Now there's nine pipers playing. And Christ - do they play. They never stopped chasing those maids since they got here yesterday morning. The cows are upset and are stepping all over those screeching birds. No wonder they screech. What am I going to do? The neighbors have started a petition to evict me. You'll get yours.
From Ag
December 23rd
You Rotten Prick:
Now there's ten ladies dancing - I don't know why I call those sluts ladies. They've been balling those nine pipers all night long. Now the cows can't sleep and they've got diarrhea. My living room is a river of shit. The commissioner of buildings has subpoenaed me to give cause why the building shouldn't be condemned. I'm sicking the police on you.
One who means it, Ag
December 24th
Listen Fuckhead:
What's with the eleven lords a-leaping on those maids and
afterementioned "ladies?" Some of those broads will never walk again. Those pipers ran through the maids and have been committing sodomy with the cows. All 234 of the birds are dead. They have been trampled to death in the orgy. I hope you're satisfied, you rotten swine.
Your sworn enemy, Miss Agnes McCallister
December 25th (From the law offices Taeker, Spredar, and Baegar)
Dear Sir:
This is to acknowledge your latest gift of twelve fiddlers fiddling, which you have seen fit to inflict on our client, Miss Agnes McCallister. The destruction, of course, was total. All
correspondence should come to our attention. If you should attempt to reach Miss McCallister at Happy Dale Sanitarium, the attendants have instructions to shoot you on sight. With this letter, please find attached a warrant for your arrest.
THE 12 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS FOR THE POLITCALLY CORRECT:
On the 12th day of the Eurocentrically imposed midwinter festival, my Significant Other in a consenting adult, monogamous relationship gave to me,
TWELVE males reclaiming their inner warrior through ritual drumming,
ELEVEN pipers piping (plus the 18-member pit orchestra made up of members in good standing of the Musicians Equity Union as called for in their union contract even though they will not be asked to play a note),
TEN melanin deprived testosterone-poisoned scions of the patriarchal ruling class system leaping,
NINE persons engaged in rhythmic self-expression,
EIGHT economically disadvantaged female persons stealing milk-products from enslaved Bovine-Americans,
SEVEN endangered swans swimming on federally protected wetlands,
SIX enslaved Fowl-Americans producing stolen non-human animal products,
FIVE golden symbols of culturally sanctioned enforced domestic incarceration,
(NOTE: after members of the Animal Liberation Front threatened to throw red paint at my computer, the calling birds, French hens and partridge have been reintroduced to their native habitat. To avoid further Animal-American enslavement, the remaining gift package has been revised.)
FOUR hours of recorded whale songs
THREE deconstructionist poets
TWO Sierra Club calendars printed on recycled processed tree carcasses
AND a Spotted Owl activist chained to an old-growth pear tree
THE 12 DAYS OF AOL:
On the first day of AOL those Bozos gave to me, a jerk cursing in a chat room.
On the second day of AOL those Bozos gave to me, 2 pieces of junk mail, and a jerk cursing in a chat room.
On the third day of AOL those Bozos gave to me, 3 error messages, 2 pieces of junk mail, and a jerk cursing in a chat room.
On the fourth day of AOL those Bozos gave to me, 4 idiots at tech help, 3 error messages, 2 pieces of junk mail, and a jerk cursing in a chat room.
On the fifth day of AOL those Bozos gave to me, 5 web crashes, 4 idiots at tech help, 3 error messages, 2 pieces of junk mail, and a jerk cursing in a chat room.
On the sixth day of AOL those Bozos gave to me, 6 disconnection's, 5 web crashes, 4 idiots at tech help, 3 error messages, 2 pieces of junk mail, and a jerk cursing in a chat room.
On the seventh day of AOL those Bozos gave to me, 7 frozen IMs, 6
disconnection's, 5 web crashes, 4 idiots at tech help, 3 error
messages, 2 pieces of junk mail, and a jerk cursing in a chat room.
On the eight day of AOL those Bozos gave to me, 8 hours of busy
signals, 7 frozen IMs, 6 disconnection's, 5 web crashes, 4 idiots at tech help, 3 error messages, 2 pieces of junk mail, and a jerk cursing in a chat room.
On the ninth day of AOL those Bozos gave to me, 9 frozen chat rooms, 8 hours of busy signals, 7 frozen IMs, 6 disconnection's, 5 web crashes, 4 idiots at tech help, 3 error messages, 2 pieces of junk mail, and a jerk cursing in a chat room.
On the tenth day of AOL those Bozos gave to me, 10 hours without mail, 9 frozen chat rooms, 8 hours of busy signals, 7 frozen IMs, 6 disconnection's, 5 web crashes, 4 idiots at tech help, 3 error
messages, 2 pieces of junk mail, and a jerk cursing in a chat room.
On the eleventh day of AOL those Bozos gave to me, 11 channels not working, 10 hours without mail, 9 frozen chat rooms, 8 hours of busy signals, 7 frozen IMs, 6 disconnection's, 5 web crashes, 4 idiots at tech help, 3 error messages, 2 pieces of junk mail, and a jerk cursing in a chat room.
On the twelveth day of AOL those Bozos gave to me, 12 reasons to
cancel, 11 channels not working, 10 hours without mail, 9 frozen chat rooms, 8 hours of busy signals, 7 frozen IMs, 6 disconnection's, 5 web crashes, 4 idiots at tech help, 3 error messages, 2 pieces of junk mail, and a jerk cursing in a chat room.
THE EIGHT DAYS OF HANUKKAH:
On the first night of Hanukkah my true love gave to me
Lox, bagels and some cream cheese
On the second night of Hanukkah, my true love gave to me
2 Kosher pickles and Lox, bagels and some cream cheese
On the third night of Hanukkah, my true love gave to me
3 pounds of corned beef 2 Kosher pickles and Lox, bagels and some cream cheese
On the fourth night of Hanukkah, my true love gave to me
4 potato latkes 3 pounds of corned beef 2 Kosher pickles and Lox, bagels and some cream cheese
On the fifth night of Hanukkah, my true love gave to me
5 bowls of chicken soup 4 potato latkes 3 pounds of corned beef
2 Kosher pickles and Lox, bagels and some cream cheese
On the sixth night of Hanukkah, my true love gave to me
6 pickled herrings 5 bowls of chicken soup 4 potato latkes 3 pounds of corned beef 2 Kosher pickles and Lox, bagels and some cream cheese
On the seventh night of Hanukkah, my true love gave to me
7 noodle kugels 6 pickled herrings 5 bowls of chicken soup
4 potato latkes 3 pounds of corned beef 2 Kosher pickles and Lox, bagels and some cream cheese
On the eighth night of Hanukkah, my true love gave to me
8 Alka- Seltzer 7 noodle kugels 6 pickled herrings 5 bowls of chicken soup 4 potato latkes 3 pounds of corned beef 2 Kosher pickles and Lox, bagels and some cream cheese
BARBIE'S LETTER TO SANTA:
Dear Santa,
Listen you fat little troll, I've been helping you out every year, playing at being the perfect Christmas Present, wearing skimpy bathing suits in frigid weather, and drowning in fake tea from one too many tea parties, and I hate to break it to ya Santa, but IT'S DEFINITELY PAY BACK TIME!
There had better be some changes around here this Christmas, or I'm gonna call for a nationwide meltdown (and trust me, you won't wanna be around to smell it). So, here's my holiday wish list for 1999...
1. A nice, comfy pair of sweat pants and a frumpy, oversized
sweatshirt. I'm sick of looking like a hooker. How much smaller are these bathing suits gonna get? Do you have any idea what it feels like to have Nylon and Velcro up your butt?
2. Real underwear that can be pulled on and off. Preferably white. What bonehead at Mattel decided to cheap out and MOLD imitation underwear to my skin?!? It looks like cellulite!
3. A REAL man. Hey, maybe GI JOE. Hell, I'd take Tickle-Me-Elmo over that wimped out excuse for a boytoy Ken. And what's with that earring anyway? If I'm gonna have to suffer with him, at least make him (and me) anatomically correct.
4. Arms that actually bend, so I can push the aforementioned Ken-wimp away once he is anatomically correct.
5. Breast reduction surgery. I don't care whose arm you have to
twist, just get it done.
6. A jog-bra. To wear until I get the surgery.
7. A new career. Pet doctor and school teacher just don't cut it. How about a systems analyst? Or better yet, a public relations senior account exec!
8. A new, more 90's persona. Maybe "PMS Barbie", complete with a mini container of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream and a bag of chips; "Animal Rights Barbie", with my very own paint gun, fitted with a fake fur coat, bottle of spray on blood and handcuffs; or "Stop Smoking Barbie," sporting a Nicotrol patch and equipped with several packs of gum.
9. No more McDonald's endorsements. The grease is wrecking my vinyl.
10. Mattel stock options. It's been 37 years - I think I deserve it.
Okay Santa, that's it. Considering my valuable contribution to
society, I don't think these requests are out of line. If you disagree, then you can find yourself a new bitch for next Christmas. It's just that simple.
Yours Truly,
Barbie
KEN'S LETTER TO SANTA:
Dear Santa,
I understand that one of my colleagues has petitioned you for changes in her contract, specifically asking for anatomical and career changes. In addition, it is my understanding that disparaging remarks were made about me, my ability to please, and some of my fashion choices.
I would like to take this opportunity to inform you of some of issues concerning Ms. Barbie, and some of my own needs and desires. First of all, I, along with several other colleagues feel Barbie DOES NOT deserve preferential treatment, the bitch has everything.
I, along with Joe, Jem, Raggedy Ann & Andy, DO NOT have a dreamhouse, Corvette, evening gowns, and in some cases the ability to change our hair style. I personally have only 3 outfits which I am forced to mix and match at great length. My decision to accessorize my outfits with an earring was my decision and reflects my lifestyle choice. I too would like a change in my career.
Have you ever considered "Decorator Ken", "Beauty Salon Ken," or "Out Of Work Actor Ken"?
In addition, there are several other avenues which could be considered such as: "S & M Ken" , "Green Lantern Ken", "Circuit Ken", "Bear Ken," "MasterKen." These would more accurately reflect my desires andperhaps open up new markets.
And as for Barbie needing bendable arms so she can "push me away", I need bendable knees so I can kick the bitch to the curb.
Bendable knees would also be helpful for me in other situations (we've talked about this issue before).
In closing, I would like to point out that any further concessions to the blond bimbo from hell will result in action be taken by myself and others.
And Barbie can forget about having Joe - he's mine, at least that's what he said last night.
Sincerely,
Ken
'Twas the night before impeachment and all through the House
All the Congress was stirring, even Conyers, the louse.
The Articles were hung on the Capitol with care
In hope that old Bubba would be trapped in his lair.
Republicans were warmly nestled with Feds
While visions of perjury danced in their heads
And Barr with his rhetoric, and Hyde with his trap
Had just settled in for an afternoon nap.
When out in the Gulf there arose such a clatter
They turned on CNN to see what's the matter
And what to their wondering eyes should appear
But Tomahawk missiles cruising like reindeer
With a presidential address, so lively and quick,
The knew in a moment it must be Ol ' Slick
More loyal than beagles, his supporters they came
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name
Now Conyers, Now Gephard, forget about the Vixen!
On Barney! On Maxine! Hey I'm no Nixon!
>From Capitol Hill to the Washington Mall
Now dash away, Poll away, Fool them all
And then the Republicans heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little goof
As they scratched and their head and were turning around
Resilient ol ' Slick polled another rebound.
No longer was he eating his big humble pie
While assaulting Saddam with bombs from the sky
A bundle of weapons he had flung at Iraq,
It looked like again Slick Willie was back.
His eyes how they twinkled, his dimples so merry
He searched for an intern - he wanted a cherry.
His droll big mouth was all drawn in a grin
He knew all at once he had fooled them again.
The stump of a stogie he held in his teeth,
The smoke had encircled his head like a wreath
He had a broad face like an old lumberjack's
And a big round belly from eating Big Macs
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf
The Republicans wept in spite of themselves
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave them to know they had something to dread
He spoke the right words and went straight to his work
Ignoring the fact that some think him a jerk
And shaking his finger, and thumbing his nose
By "Wagging the Dog" up the polls he rose
He turned to his spinmeisters and gave them a whistle
They cheered Slick Willie as he launched one more missile
They heard him exclaim, with Impeachment out of sight
"Happy Ramadan to all, and Thank G-d for this fight."