A Cat's Top Ten Favorite Christmas Songs:10.Up on the Mousetop
9.Have Yourself a Furry Little Christmas
8.Joy to the Curled
7.I Saw Mommy Hiss at Santa Claus
6.The First Meow
5.Oh, Come All Ye Fishful
4.Silent Mice
3.Fluffy, the Snowman
2.Jingle Balls
1.Wreck the Halls!
I think Santa Claus is a woman....I hate to be the one to defy sacred myth, but I believe he's a she. Think about it. Christmas is a big, organized, warm, fuzzy, nurturing social deal, and I have a tough time believing a guy could possibly pull it all off!
For starters, the vast majority of men don't even think about selecting gifts until Christmas Eve. It's as if they are all frozen in some kind of Ebenezerian Time Warp until 3 p.m. on Dec. 24th, when they - with amazing calm - call other errant men and plan for a last-minute shopping spree.
Once at the mall, they always seem surprised to find only Ronco products, socket wrench sets, and mood rings left on the shelves. (You might think this would send them into a fit of panic and guilt, but my husband tells me it's an enormous relief because it lessens the 11th hour decision-making burden.) On this count alone, I'm convinced Santa is a woman. Surely, if he were a man, everyone in the universe would wake up Christmas morning to find a rotating musical Chia Pet under the tree, still in the bag.
Another problem for a he-Santa would be getting there. First of all, there would be no reindeer because they would all be dead, gutted and strapped on to the rear bumper of the sleigh amid wide-eyed, desperate claims that buck season had been extended. Blitzen's rack would already be on the way to the taxidermist.
Even if the male Santa DID have reindeer, he'd still have transportation problems because he would inevitably get lost up there in the snow and clouds and then refuse to stop and ask for directions. Add to this the fact that there would be unavoidable delays in the chimney, where the Bob Vila-like Santa would stop to inspect and repoint bricks in the flue. He would also need to check for carbon monoxide fumes in every gas fireplace, and get under every Christmas tree that is crooked to straighten it to a perfectly upright 90-degree angle.
Other reasons why Santa can't possibly be a man:
* Men can't pack a bag.
* Men would rather be dead than caught wearing red velvet.
* Men would feel their masculinity is threatened... having to be seen with all those elves.
* Men don't answer their mail.
* Men would refuse to allow their physique to be described even in jest as anything remotely resembling a "bowlful of jelly."
* Men aren't interested in stockings unless somebody's wearing them.
* Having to do the Ho Ho Ho thing would seriously inhibit their ability to
pick up women. * Finally, being responsible for Christmas would require a commitment.
I can buy the fact that other mythical holiday characters are men... Father Time shows up once a year unshaven and looking ominous. Definite guy. Cupid flies around carrying weapons. Uncle Sam is a politician who likes to point fingers. Any one of these individuals could pass the testosterone screening test. But not St. Nick. Not a chance. As long as we have each other, good will, peace on earth, faith and Nat King Cole's version of "The Christmas Song," it probably makes little difference what gender Santa is.
I just wish she'd quit dressing like a guy...
"Christmas Pageant"Two daughters had been given parts in a Christmas pageant at their Church. At dinner that night, they got into an argument as to who had the most important role. Finally the 14 year old said to her 8 year old younger sister, "Well, you just ask Mom. She'll tell you it's much harder to be a virgin than it is to be an angel."
"The Nativity Scene"A 7-year old child was drawing a picture of the Nativity. The picture was very good, including Mary, Joseph and, of course, baby Jesus. However, there was a fat man standing in the corner of the stable, that just did not seem to fit in. When the child was asked about it,she replied, "Oh, That's Round John Virgin."
"The Lost Purse"A lady lost her handbag in the bustle of Christmas shopping. It was found by an honest little boy and returned to her. Looking in her purse, she commented, "Hmmm.... That's funny. When I lost my bag there was a $20 bill in it. Now there are twenty $1 bills." The boy quickly replied, "That's right, lady. The last time I found a lady's purse, she didn't have any change for a reward."
An Engineer's ChristmasThere are approximately two billion children (persons under 18) in the world. However, since Santa does not visit children of Muslim, Hindu, Jewish or Buddhist (except maybe in Japan) religions, this reduces the workload for Christmas night to 15% of the total, or 378 million (according to the population reference bureau). At an average (census) rate of 3.5 children per household, that comes to 108 million homes, presuming there is at least one good child in each.
Santa has about 31 hours of Christmas to work with, thanks to the different time zones and the rotation of the earth, assuming east to west (which seems logical). This works out to 967.7 visits per second. This is to say that for each Christian household with a good child, Santa has around 1/1000th of a second to park the sleigh, hop out, jump down the chimney, fill the stocking, distribute the remaining presents under the tree, eat whatever snacks have been left for him, get back up the chimney, jump into the sleigh and get onto the next house.
Assuming that each of these 108 million stops is evenly distributed around the earth (which, of course, we know to be false, but will accept for the purposes of our calculations), we are now talking about 0.78 miles per household; a total trip of 75.5 million miles, not counting bathroom stops or breaks.
This means Santa's sleigh is moving at 650 miles per second--3,000 times the speed of sound. For purposes of comparison, the fastest man made vehicle, the Ulysses space probe, moves at a poky 27.4 miles per second, and a conventional reindeer can run (at best) 15 miles per hour.
The payload of the sleigh adds another interesting element. Assuming that each child gets nothing more than a medium sized LEGO set (two pounds), the sleigh is carrying over 500 thousands tons, not counting Santa himself. On land, a conventional reindeer can pull no more than 300 pounds. Even granting that the "flying" reindeer can pull 10 times the normal amount, the job can't be done with eight or even nine of them---Santa would need 360,000 of them. This increases the payload, not counting the weight of the sleigh, another 54,000 tons, or roughly seven times the weight of the Queen Elizabeth (the ship, not the monarch).
600,000 tons traveling at 650 miles per second creates enormous air resistance--this would heat up the reindeer in the same fashion as a spacecraft reentering the earth's atmosphere. The lead pair of reindeer would adsorb 14.3 quintillion joules of energy per second each. In short, they would burst into flames almost instantaneously, exposing the reindeer behind them and creating deafening sonic booms in their wake. The entire reindeer team would be vaporized within 4.26 thousandths of a second, or right about the time Santa reached the fifth house on his trip.
Not that it matters, however, since Santa, as a result of accelerating from a dead stop to 650 m.p.s. in .001 seconds, would be subjected to acceleration forces of 17,000 g's. A 250 pound Santa (which seems ludicrously slim) would be pinned to the back of the sleigh by 4,315,015 pounds of force, instantly crushing his bones and organs and reducing him to a quivering blob of pink goo. Therefore, if Santa did exist, he's dead now.
Santa's Best Pick Up LinesI know when you`ve been bad or good -- so let's skip the small talk, sister!
Hey Babe, when was the last time you did it in a sleigh?
Ever make it with a fat guy with a whip?
Some of my best toys run on batteries... *wink wink*
I see you when you're sleeping - and you don't wear any underwear, do you?
Screw the "nice" list -- I've got you on my "nice AND naughty" list!
Wanna join the "Mile High" club?
That's not a candy cane in my pocket, honey. I'm just glad to see you!
Question: What's red and white and gives presents to good little fish on Christmas? Answer: Sandy Claws. Question: Why does Santa have 3 gardens? So he can ho-ho-ho. Question: What do you get when you cross a snowman with a vampire? Answer: Frostbite. Question: Why was Santa's little helper depressed? Because he had low elf esteem. Question: What do you get when you cross an archer with a gift-wrapper? Answer: Ribbon hood. Question: What do you call people who are afraid of Santa Claus? Answer: Claustrophobic. Question: What do snowmen eat for breakfast? Answer: Snowflakes. Question: Why did the little girl change her mind about buying her grandmother a packet od handkerchiefs for Christmas? Answer: She said "I could not work out what size her nose was!
Dear Santa,I've been a good mom all year. I've fed, cleaned, and cuddled my two children on demand, visited the doctor's office more than my doctor, sold sixty-two cases of candy bars to raise money to plant a shade tree on the school playground and figured out how to attach nine patches onto my daughter's Girl Scout sash with staples and a glue gun. I was hoping you could spread my list out over several Christmases, since I had to write this letter with my son's red crayon, on the back of a receipt in the laundry room between cycles, and who knows when I'll find anymore free time in the next 18 years.
Here are my Christmas wishes:
I'd like a pair of legs that don't ache after a day of chasing kids (in any color, except purple, which I already have) and arms that don't flap in the breeze, but are strong enough to carry a screaming toddler out of the candy aisle in the grocery store. I'd also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the seventh month of my last pregnancy. If you're hauling big ticket items this year I'd like a car with fingerprint resistant windows and a radio that only plays adult music; a television that doesn't broadcast any programs containing talking animals; and a refrigerator with a secret compartment behind the crisper where I can hide to talk on the phone.
On the practical side, I could use a talking daughter doll that says, "Yes, Mommy" to boost my parental confidence, along with one potty-trained toddler, two kids who don't fight, and three pairs of jeans that will zip all the way up without the use of power tools. I could also use a recording of Tibetan monks chanting, "Don't eat in the living room" and "Take your hands off your brother," because my voice seems to be just out of my children's hearing range and can only be heard by the dog. And please don't forget the Play-Doh Travel Pack, the hottest stocking stuffer this year for mothers of preschoolers. It comes in three fluorescent colors and is guaranteed to crumble on any carpet making the in-laws' house seem just like mine. If it's too late to find any of these products, I'd settle for enough time to brush my teeth and comb my hair in the same morning, or the luxury of eating food warmer than room temperature without it being served in a Styrofoam container. If you don't mind I could also use a few Christmas miracles to brighten the holiday season. Would it be too much trouble to declare ketchup a vegetable? It will clear my conscience immensely. It would be helpful if you could coerce my children to help around the house without demanding payment as if they were the bosses of an organized crime family; or if my toddler didn't look so cute sneaking downstairs to eat contraband ice cream in his pajamas at midnight. Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is ringing and my son saw my feet under the laundry room door. I think he wants his crayon back. Have a safe trip and remember to leave your wet boots by the chimney and come in and dry off by the fire so you don't catch cold. Help yourself to cookies on the table, but don't eat too many or leave crumbs on the carpet.
Yours Always, MOM
P.S. One more thing...you can cancel all my requests if you can keep my children young enough to believe in you
Just before Christmas, there was an honest politician, a kind lawyer and Santa Claus travelling in a lift of a very posh hotel. Just before the doors opened they all noticed a £5 note lying on the floor. Which one picked it up??Santa of course, the other two don't exist!
Christmas Tree ControversyCONTROVERSY: Should the tree be real or fake? YUPPIE: Live tree, planted after use MALE: Fake tree, discarded after use FEMALE: Grow tree in house, adorned with fruits REALITY: Fake tree stays up until May, adorned with furballs CONTROVERSY: Should tree lights twinkle or stay constant? YUPPIE: Each bulb blinks to its own random rhythm MALE: Bulbs flash logo of football team FEMALE: Elegant flickering candles REALITY: Tree bursts into flames, burns house down CONTROVERSY: Should tree be topped with an angel or a star? YUPPIE: Gender-neutral angel; no submissive female stereotype MALE: Blonde angel, kneeling, in a wet T-shirt FEMALE: Authentic angel explains true meaning of Christmas REALITY: Hell's Angel steals the tree and the gifts CONTROVERSY: Do ya fling or hang tinsel? YUPPIE: Empower each strand w/self-determining skills MALE: Six large clumps of tinsel on front of tree FEMALE: Each icicle hangs like strand of spaghetti REALITY: More icicles on floor than on tree CONTROVERSY: Do ya open gifts on Christmas Eve or Morning YUPPIE: Gifts opened on posted, individual schedules MALE: Anytime, just so it doesn't interfere with football FEMALE: Anytime the entire family is present REALITY: Doesn't matter, everyone's peeked anyway
The Night Before ChristmasTwas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone, in a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone. I had come down the chimney with presents to give, and to see just who in this home did live. I looked all about, a strange sight did I see, no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree. No stocking by mantel, just boots filled with sand, on the wall hung pictures of distance lands. With medals and badges, awards of all kinds, a sober thought came through my mind. For this house was different, it was dark and dreary, I found the home of a soldier, once I could see clearly. The soldier lay sleeping, silent, alone, curled up on the floor in this one bedroom home. The face was so gentle, the room in such disorder, not how I pictured a United States soldier. Was this the hero of whom I'd just read? Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed? I realized the families that I saw this night, owed their lives to these soldiers who were willing to fight. Soon round the world, the children would play, and grownups would celebrate a bright Christmas day. They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year, because of the soldiers, like this one here. I couldn't help wonder how many lay alone, on a cold Christmas Eve in a land far from home. The very thought brought a tear to my eye, I dropped to my knees and started to cry. The soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice, "Santa don't cry, this life is my choice; I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more, My life is my God, my country and my corps." The soldier rolled over and drifted off to sleep, I couldn't control it, I continued to weep. I kept watch for hours, so silent and still, and we both shivered from the cold's night chill. I didn't want to leave on that cold, dark night, this guardian of honor so willing to fight. Then the soldier rolled over, with a voice soft and pure, whispered, "Carry on Santa, it's Christmas Day, all is secure." One look at my watch, and I knew he was right, Merry Christmas my friend, and to all a good night.