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| Posted by BabyLissa on 11-Aug-2005 | Ebonics X-masAn Ebonics X-mas The Night Befo' Crizmus
Wuz da night befo Crizmus An all thru da hood Everybody be sleepin' Dey was sleepin real good
We hunged up our stockins An hoped like all heck Dat 'ol Sanny Claws Gonna brang us our check
All of da fambly Wuz layin in beds While Thunderbird wine Danced thru dere heds
I dun passed out on ze flo' Right nex to my maw When I heared such a fuss I thunk - it mus be da law
I looked out thru da bars What could I now do I was spectin the sherrif With a warrent for sho'
And what did I see Made me say, "Lawd look at dat" Dere was a huge watahmelon Pulled by 8 big ass rats
Now ober all da years Sanny Claws he be white But it looks like us bros Get a black Sanny tonite
Faster dan a po lice car My homeboy he came He whupped up on dem rats As he called dem be name
On Leroy, On Roosevelt On Virvus, On Willie On Yolanda, On Crayola On Kiesha, and Nefrotilly
An 'ol Sanny landed dat watahmelon Out dere in da street I knowed it fo shu Da damnest ting I eber did seed
Dat black Sanny didn't go down no chimbly He picked da lock on my do' An I sez to myeslf "Shit - He dis befo'
He had did big bag Full of prezents I speck Wif Air Jordans and fake gold To wear roun my nek
But he left no prezents Jus started stealin my shit Got my guns, got my crack Eben my burgler's kit
Wit my shit in his bag Out da windo he flew I sho woulda chased him But he got my knife too
He jumped on dat watahmelon Wit out a hitch He wuz gone in a second That son of a bitch
So nex year I be hopin' A white Sanny we git 'Cause a black Sanny Claws Jus ain't worf a shit!
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| Posted by Liz M. Whitt on 09-Aug-2005 | Maxine's Top Ten New Years Resolutions...
Maxine's Top Ten New Years Resolutions
Skip exercise every day instead of just three times a week.
Call one of my relatives every day. Call one a doofus, call one a bonehead,
call one a jerkwood, call one a...
Go to the park more often to feed the pigeons...to the cat.
Stop eating so much high-fat fast food and eat more high-fat home cooking.
Expand my horizons with travel. In other words, use the upstairs bathroom
more.
Reread all my favorite novels. And this time read the whole book, not just
the steamy underlined parts.
Force myself to stop watching so much trashy TV. Rent trashy movies instead.
Teach Floyd a new trick, and remember to rotate which neighbors yard he does
it in.
Clean the house more often. Once a millennium just isn't enough.
And my Number One New Years Resolution:
Only moon people who absolutely, one hundred percent deserve it. So that's
still pretty much everybody.
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| Posted by Gene Geller on 14-Aug-2005 | Christmas PartyHow To Tell If You're Throwing A Successful Christmas Party
- Festivity Level One -
Your guests are sitting around chatting, nibbling the party food, sipping
their drinks. They are admiring your Christmas tree ornaments and stand
around the piano singing carols.
- Festivity Level Two -
Your guests are talking loudly, occasionally to one another. They are
wolfing down the food, gulping their drinks, rearranging your Christmas
ornaments and sitting on the piano singing "I Gotta Be Me."
- Festivity Level Three -
Your guests are holding conversations with inanimate objects, gulping
other peoples' drinks, wolfing down Christmas ornaments and dancing around
the piano shouting the words to "I Can't Get No Satisfaction."
- Festivity Level Four -
Your guests, food smeared across their naked bodies, are capering around
the burning Christmas tree in some unholy ritual. The piano is missing.
Unless you rent your home, or own heavy firearms, you generally don't want
your parties operating above Level Three. The true test of party success,
however, is whether or not the police arrive. If they do arrive, your job
as host is to see that they don't arrest anyone. If they are intent on
arresting someone, your job is to see that it isn't you. Following is an
example of how to successfully handle this situation:
Police: "We've come in response to the complaints."
You: "Complaints? It isn't about the drugs, is it?"
Police: "No, sir, not drugs."
You: "The guns, then? They're complaining about the guns?"
Police: "No, sir. It's about the noise."
You: "Oh that's all right then. 'Cause there sure aren't any guns or drugs
here, heh heh."
[An explosion sounds somewhere behind you]
You: "Or fireworks either! The neighbors complained, did they?"
Police: "No, sir. The neighbors all fled inland hours ago. The recent
complaints have come from Iowa."
[At this point a Volkswagen Bug, painted in various arcane symbols, roars
out of the living room, down the hall past you and the policemen, out into
the front yard and into the nearest tree. Eight naked bodies tumble out,
moaning.]
You: "There, you see? It's winding down already."
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| Posted by Sarah Magruder on 09-Aug-2005 | Season's Greetings...
Season's Greetings
Money's Short
Times are Hard
Here's your Fucking
Christmas Card
Twas the night before Christmas
and all through the house
everyone felt shitty
even the mouse
mom at the whorehouse
and dad smoking grass
I'd just settled down
for a nice piece of ass
when out on the lawn
I heard such a clatter
I sprung from my piece
to see what's the matter
then out on the lawn
I saw a big dick
I knew in a moment
it must be Saint Nick
He came down the chimney
like a bat out of hell
I knew in a moment
the old fucker fell
he filled all our stockings
with pretzels and beer
and a big rubber dick
for my brother the queer
he rose up the chimney
with a thuderous fart
the son of a bitch
blew the chimney apart
he swore and he cursed
as he rode out of sight
piss on you all
and have a good night
MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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| Posted by Roy Covington III on 14-Aug-2005 | Top 10 Christmas Phrases That Sound Dirty10. Did you get any under the tree?
9. I think your balls are hanging too low.
8. Check out Rudolph's honker!
7. Santa's sack is really bulging.
6. Lift up your skirt so I can get a clean breath.
5. Did you get a piece of fruitcake?
4. I love licking the end till it's really sharp and pointy.
3. From here you can't tell if they're artificial or real.
2. Can I interest you in some dark meat?
And the No. 1 Christmas phrase that sounds dirty but isn't:
1. To get it to stand up straight, try propping it against the wall.
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| Posted by Stype76 on 09-Aug-2005 | The first reindeer seen in a barOne evening, in a busy lounge in the deep south, a reindeer walked in the door, bellied up to the bar and ordered a martini. Without batting an eye, the bartender mixed and poured the drink, set it in front of the reindeer, and accepted the twenty-dollar bill from the reindeer's hoof.
As he handed the reindeer some coins in change, he said, "You know, I think you're the first reindeer I've ever seen in here."
The reindeer looked hard at the hoofful of change and said, "Hmmmpf. Let me tell you something, buddy. At these prices, I'm the last reindeer you'll see in here."
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| Posted by Chuckler on 11-Aug-2005 | Turkey Shot Out of the Oven...Turkey Shot Out of the Oven...
The turkey shot out of the oven
The turkey shot out of the oven
And rocketed into the air,
It knocked every plate off the table
And partly demolished a chair.
It ricocheted into a corner
And burst with a deafening boom,
Then splattered all over the kitchen,
Completely obscuring the room.
It stuck to the walls and the windows,
It totally coated the floor,
There was turkey attached to the ceiling,
Where there'd never been turkey before.
It blanketed every appliance,
It smeared every saucer and bowl,
There wasn't a way I could stop it,
That turkey was out of control.
I scraped and I scrubbed with displeasure,
And thought with chagrin as I mopped,
That I'd never again stuff a turkey
With popcorn that hadn't been popped.
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| Posted by Sam Patrick on 14-Aug-2005 | How Do Sheeps Say Merry Christmas?How do sheeps in Mexico said Merry Christmas?
Fleece Navidad.
(Feliz Navidad)
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| Posted by WhlteFlre on 14-Aug-2005 | Santa's Pick Up Lines* I 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...
* 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!
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| Posted by R H. Z on 13-Aug-2005 | Easter Bunny InterviewINTERVIEW WITH THE EASTER BUNNY
With the possible exception of Santa Claus himself, there is not a busier mammal on the face of the earth than the Easter Bunny. Once a year, the Easter Bunny hops into the home of hundreds of millions of boys and girls all over the globe, dropping off chocolates, candy and eggs as part of the celebration of Easter. Our Staff spent a few minutes with the Easter Bunny as he was preparing for this year's task, for a tell-all, no-holds-barred interview. If you thought you knew the Easter Bunny, you just may be surprised.
Our Staff: Thanks for talking to us.
Easter Bunny: No problem. Do you mind if I eat while we talk? (takes out a packet of small green pellets) I've been in a rush recently.
OS: Go right ahead. We've got a list of questions here, compiled from our members, and I'll just go down the list if you don't mind.
EB: Ready when you are.
OS: The first question comes from Ted, in Dayton, Ohio. He writes: 'We all know that Santa's Workshop is located at the North Pole. Does the Easter Bunny have a workshop, and if so, where is it located?'
EB: Well, Ted, the answer is yes, I do have a workshop. It's located in San Bernardino, California.
OS: San Bernardino?
EB: That's right.
OS: You have to understand that most people would have figured some place like Easter Island.
EB: Have you *been* to Easter Island? What a rock! It's the single most isolated piece of land on the planet. By the time we shipped fresh eggs there, we'd have chickens. Besides, San Bernardino has the sort of motivated labor pool we need.
OS: Elves?
EB: Laid-off aerospace workers.
OS: They would seem to be a little overqualified.
EB: Maybe. But now we have some lovely chocolate stealth bombers.
OS: Our next question comes from Cindy, in Tempe. She writes: 'Why is the Easter Bunny a bunny? Why couldn't it have been the Easter Kitty, or the Easter Puppy?'
EB: That's a very good question. In fact, in the late 70s, we as an organization decided to play around with the whole 'bunny' thing by recruiting prominent local animals to deliver Easter baskets. In 1978, when the experiment was at its height, we had an Easter Bunny, an Easter Coyote, an Easter Manatee and an Easter Komodo Dragon.
OS: What happened?
EB: It just didn't work out. The Komodo dragon ate the eggs, the coyote just flaked out, and the manatee, if I may say so, was just about as dumb as a stick. There were some other problems with the program, too. The less we talk about the whole Easter Man-Eating Bengali Swamp Tiger episode, the better. Now we stick with bunnies. We know bunnies. We can work with bunnies. Bunnies don't eat anyone.
OS: Bob in Honolulu asks: 'Is there is just one Easter Bunny? Moreover, has the same Easter Bunny been the Easter Bunny for the last couple of millennia?'
EB: The fact of the matter is that there are quite a few Easter Bunnies, and we've never made a secret about that. Unlike the Santa Claus operation, which works under the improbable assumption that one guy delivers all those presents -
OS: Are you saying that Santa is a sham?
EB: I didn't say that. I never said that. What I am saying is that *we* don't work under the same sort of constraints. I mean, think about it. One bunny delivering baskets to several hundred million homes across the planet? The friction from the atmosphere alone would turn the poor guy into a bunny briquette. There'd be hideous charcoal smudges all over the baskets. 'Easter Bunny' is a job description, not a proper name. It's like 'Postal Carrier,' except our employees very rarely become disgruntled.
OS: So why are you THE Easter Bunny?
EB: Because I'm boss. You're not an Easter Bunny until I say you are.
OS: How does one become an Easter Bunny?
EB: Well, it's not just hopping down the bunny trail, I'll tell you. First, for reasons already explained, you have to be a bunny. After that, we have a psychological evaluation and a battery of physical tests you have to pass. We can't afford to have an Easter Bunny cramp up at the beginning of his run.
OS: Any famous rabbits turned down for the job?
EB: I don't want to name names. But one bunny who's making a living in the breakfast cereal industry, we had to let go. Any time a child would try to get an Easter basket from him, he'd back away and start snarling. He was a silly rabbit. Easter baskets are for kids.
OS: He seems to have gotten better since then.
EB: Prozac helps.
OS: Albert from Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, wants to know what are the occupational hazards of being the Easter Bunny.
EB: There are several. Large dogs are always a problem, of course: one moment you're delivering a basket of goodies, the next, a Rottweiler named Pinochet is on you like a meat-filled sock. Nervous homeowners with guns wing a couple of bunnies a year, as do edgy cops and private security guards. We don't even bother trying to deliver to the children of militia members anymore; first they'll plug you for being on their land, then they'll make you into jerky and a pair of gloves. But you know what our number one problem is?
OS: What?
EB: Sliding glass doors. Sometimes we'll just forget they're there. Man, that's embarrassing.
OS: Here's an interesting question, from Amy, in New York City. She writes: 'How does the Easter Bunny get along with Santa Claus? It seems like Santa gets all the attention.' And I have to say, I did notice some tension earlier, when you brought him up.
EB (Looking uncomfortable): Well, you know, look. I don't want to say anything bad about the guy. He does what he does, and I do what I do. Professionally, we get along fine.
OS: But privately?
EB: Is that tape recorder turned off?
OS: Uh.....sure.
EB: He's a big ol' pain in this bunny's bottom. For one thing, he's a prima donna: always me, me, me, where's my highball, where's my corned beef sandwich, tell this dumb bunny to get his own dressing room. I'd rather be trapped in a sack with Joan Crawford. For another, he's totally paranoid of other large men. He thinks that Luciano Pavarotti is trying to move into his territory. Last year it was John Goodman. He actually danced when Orson Welles kicked, waving his pistol and bellowing 'Rosebud!' from the top of his lungs.
OS: Wow. He seems a little scary.
EB: You think? And yet he gets all the publicity. Why? We do the same job. Mine's actually tougher, since I'm moving perishable stuff. You can't have bad eggs or stale chocolate, you know. Folks wouldn't stand for it. I have to maintain strict quality control. The only food product he has to worry about is fruitcake. You could tile the Space Shuttle with fruitcake.
OS: We're sure you have your own fans.
EB: It's like opening for the Beatles, is all. And he *is* the walrus, if you know what I mean.
OS: One final question, from Pat, in Rockford, Illinois; 'Does the Easter Bunny actually lay eggs? How does that happen, since the Easter Bunny is both male and a mammal?'
EB: Well, platypuses are mammals, and they lay eggs. So it's not impossible.
OS: That still leaves the male part.
EB: We're quibbling on details, here.
OS: Maybe there should be an Easter Platypus.
EB: Sorry. We tried that in '78.
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| Posted by Cody G. Jackson on 13-Aug-2005 | Bush Sues Santa
Just in off the AP wire...
BUSH SUES SANTA
AUSTIN, TX - Dec.15 - Attorneys for Texas Governor George W. Bush filed suit in federal court today, seeking to prevent Santa Claus from making his list and then checking it twice. The complaint seeks an immediate injunction against the beloved Christmas icon, asking the court to effectively ban his traditional practice of checking the list of good boys and girls one additional time before packing his sleigh.
The suit, filed in the Federal District Court of Austin, Texas, asks a federal judge to "hereby order Mr. Claus to cease and desist all repetitive and duplicative list-checking activity, and certify the original list as submitted, without amendment, alteration, deletion, or other unnecessary modification."
"There are no standards for deciding who is naughty, and who is nice. It's totally arbitrary and capricious. How many more times does he need to check? This checking, checking, and re-checking over and over again must stop now," said former Secretary James Baker.
Baker further claimed that unnamed GOP observers witnessed an elf remove all boys named Brad from the "nice" list, filing them under "naughty" instead because "everyone knows all boys named Brad are brats."
Gov. Bush cited the potential for unauthorized list tampering, and blasted what he called the "fuzzy math up there at the North Pole."
"Their security is really awful, really bad," said Bush. "My mother just walked right in, told 'em she was Mrs. Claus. They didn't check her ID or nothing."
Meanwhile, Dick Cheney, Gov. Bush's running mate, issued a direct plea to St. Nick himself. "Mr. Claus, I call on you to do the honorable thing, and quit checking your list. The children of the world have had enough. They demand closure now," Cheney said, adding that his granddaughter has already selected a name for the pony that she's asked for.
Santa Claus could not be reached for comment, but a spokes-elf said he was "deeply distressed" by news of the pending legal action against him. "He's losing weight, and he hasn't said 'Ho Ho Ho' for days," said the spokes-elf. "He's just not feeling jolly."
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| Posted by leanna on 13-Aug-2005 | Butterball Turkey supportBUTTERBALL TURKEY TALK-LINE 'GREATEST HITS'
(or, 'Memorable Moments in Talk-Line History;' or, 'Out of the Mouths of.... Turkey Trauma Victims')
Over the years, the Butterball Turkey Talk-Line staff have had their share of memorable calls -- inquiries that stand out from the crowd because they're heartwarming or amusing. We asked some of the veteran staff members to tell us their favorites; plus, we rounded up a bunch of our own personal favorites from the Talk-Line archives. Its hard to beat the call from a trucker who planned to cook his Thanksgiving turkey on the engine of his truck ('Will it cook faster if I drive faster?'), but some of these come pretty close. Warning: do not attempt to adjust your screen -- these are real incidents, true stories -- from the front lines!
* Home alone, a Kentucky woman was in the doghouse when she called the Butterball Turkey Talk-Line. While preparing the turkey, her Chihuahua jumped into the bird's body cavity and couldn't get out. She tried pulling the dog and shaking the bird, but nothing worked. She and the dog became more and more distraught. After calming the woman down, the Talk-Line home economist suggested carefully cutting the opening in the cavity of the turkey wider. It worked and Fido was freed!
* Birdie, eagle and turkey? Roasting a turkey doesn't have to interfere with the daily routine, so said a retired Floridian. He called 'Turkey Central' for turkey grilling tips while waiting to tee off from the 14th hole.
* Taking turkey preparation an extra step, a Virginian wondered, 'How do you thaw a fresh turkey?' The Talk-Line staffer explained that fresh turkeys aren't frozen and don't need to be thawed.
* Don't wait until the last minute! On Thanksgiving Day, a Georgian woman took the 'Be prepared' motto to heart. She had just agreed to host Thanksgiving Dinner and called the Talk-Line a year ahead of time for turkey tips.
* Happy Thanksgiving, President Clinton! A Southern woman called to comment, 'On Thanksgiving Day, the Butterball Turkey Talk-Line is more important than the President. He can take the day off, but the Talk-Line staff can't.' (The Butterball Turkey Talk-Line is open Thanksgiving Day, 6 a.m. to 6 p.m., Central Standard Time.)
* Thanksgiving Dinner on the run. A woman called 1-800-323-4848 to find out how long it would take to roast her turkey. To answer the question, the Talk-Line home economist asked how much the bird weighed. The woman responded, 'I don't know, it's still running around outside.'
* Tofu turkey? No matter how you slice it, Thanksgiving just isn't Thanksgiving without turkey. A restaurant owner in California wanted to know how to roast a turkey for a vegetarian menu.
* White meat, anyone? A West Coast woman took turkey preparation to extremes by scrubbing her bird with bleach. Afterward, she called the Talk-Line to find out how to clean off the bleach. To her dismay, she was advised to dispose of the turkey.
* A young girl called on behalf of her mother who needed roasting advice. To provide approximate roasting times, the home economist asked what size the turkey was. Without asking her mother the little girl paused, then replied, 'Medium.'
* A novice turkey-cooking chef wanted to know if the yellow netting and wrapper around the turkey should be removed before roasting. Envisioning a melted plastic turkey blob, the home economist responded, 'Yes,' then offered complete roasting directions.
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| Posted by Little Angel Me on 13-Aug-2005 | Seattle Thanksgiving DaySEATTLE'S TURKEY DAY ETIQUETTE
It's been 145 years since the first white settlers landed at Alki Beach at Thanksgiving time, took one look at the overcast skies and the sodden, rain-soaked West Seattle terrain, and burst into tears.
(History, alas, doesn't record the response of the Native Americans when they spotted those tear-drenched settlers. But they probably were too polite to laugh out loud.)
In the intervening years, the first residents and the settlers have worked out the rules for Thanksgiving, Puget Sound style. Here they are, recently updated by an ad hoc Turkey Day committee:
DRESS CODE. Thanksgiving Day guests will arrive wearing Seattle tuxes: clean jeans, turtleneck sweaters and down jackets with weathered ski-lift tags. Hiking boots are optional.
CONVERSATION'S GAMBIT. Topics will include: 1) the election; 2) previous elections; and, 3) the next election. Several arguments will ensue before the host or hostess declares politics 'off-limits.'
CLEANERS' COROLLARY. Spills will happen in direct proportion to the staining capacity of the dish (cranberry sauce rates high) and the expense of dry cleaning the garment.
CHRISTMAS CONVENTION. If you are attending a family gathering, expect this reminder: 'Don't forget to bring your Christmas list to Thanksgiving dinner.'
MEOW'S MOMENT. The family cat will appear long enough to 1) shed hair on anyone wearing a black or navy-blue sweater; 2) perch on the lap of whoever most dislikes cats; and, 3) insist on sharing the smoked-salmon hors d'oeuvres.
OLD-TIMERS' LAMENT. Some oldster in the group will remark that it's a rotten shame there's no longer a Turkey Day football game between Puget Sound and Seattle high-school champs.
ELBOW'S LAW. Local custom calls for every left-handed diner to be seated to the right of a right-handed diner, maximizing chances for spills.
PORCELAIN'S PROGRESS. At least two different patterns of dinnerware must be visible on Puget Sound tables during every course.
SALAD LAW. Tossed salads supplied by guests will arrive with an excess of moisture, supplied by ambient rainfall. If the day is merely overcast, the host or hostess should add water before serving.
MOLDED SALAD LAW. Guaranteed to do one of three things: contain miniature marshmallows, fail to unmold properly, or slide off the serving plate onto the lap of one of the diners.
GRAVY'S CONSTANT. The silver gravy boat -- a wedding present from Great Aunt Emma and Uncle Ed -- will vanish before the meal. It will show up next summer when you're searching for beach towels.
TURKEY'S GRIPE. One vegetarian guest will complain about the fare, saying, 'Why can't we ever have tofu au gratin?'
PIE'S PARADOX. Provide two kinds of pie and diners will either decline or ask for 'a sliver of both.'
POLLYANNA'S PRINCIPLE. Guests will include one orphan, someone from out of town who can't make it home. If no orphan is available, the family oddball can substitute.
REFRIGERATOR'S RULE. After all guests depart, at least one never-served dish will turn up in the refrigerator.
DEPARTURE'S RULE. Some guests will arrive very early; some will show up late. But they'll all leave at the same time.
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| Posted by Ken Jackowitz on 13-Aug-2005 | Redneck Nativity SceneRedneck Nativity Scene
In a small southern town, she saw a 'Nativity Scene' that showed great skill and talent had gone into creating it.
One small feature bothered her: The three wise men were all wearing firemen's helmets. Totally unable to come up with a reason or explanation, she left. At a quickie mart on the edge of town, she asked the gentleman behind the counter about the helmets.
He exploded into a rage, yelling at her, 'You darn Yankees never do read the Bible!'
She assured him that indeed she did, but simply couldn't recall anything about firemen in the Bible's baby Jesus story.
He jerked his Bible from behind the counter, ruffled thru some pages, and finally jabbed his finger at a passage. Sticking it in her face he said: 'See, it says right here, 'The three wise man came from 'afar''.
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| Posted by Diamond D on 13-Aug-2005 | Mafia Valentines PoemsMy love for you...
it came and went.
So your feet are now
in wet cement.
I'm here to fulfill your fondest wishes-
Now that your husband sleeps with the fishes.
Lie down with me-
It's my final offa,
Or you'll be lying wit'
Jimmy Hoffa.
I picked up this card
from a slim selection,
But that's all they offer
in witness protection.
I've waited so long for you to be mine!
Now that Sinatra's dead, be *my* Valentine.
Be my Valentine...
and we can do it execution-style.
Cinderella got her fella,
with a slipper made of glass.
So please be mine, Valentine,
or I'll have to whack your ass.
Violets are blue,
roses are red.
I blew up your car-
So why ain't you dead?
The day we met, my little pet,
I knew with just one look,
You'd bear a son, and now that's done,
So shut your mouth and cook!
Hey.
Youse da greatest.
Youse da best.
But youse is untouchable
Like Elliot Ness.
Lust is fleeting,
True love lingers.
Be mine always
And you'll keep your fingers.
Hope da chocolates is good, but y'know,
dis ain't really what a guy's heart looks like.
Valentine, Dear, lend me a hand,
So I won't be a self-made man.
When a goon makes you die,
cuz you told him goodbye
-- that's amore!
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| Posted by ??? on 13-Aug-2005 | Politically Correct Christmas
'Twas the night before Christmas and Santa's a wreck...
How to live in a world that's politically correct?
His workers no longer would answer to "Elves,"
"Vertically Challenged" they were calling themselves.
And labor conditions at the North Pole
Were alleged by the union to stifle the soul.
Four reindeer had vanished, without much propriety,
Released to the wilds by the Humane Society.
And equal employment had made it quite clear
That Santa had better not use just reindeer.
So Dancer and Donner, Comet and Cupid,
Were replaced with 4 pigs, and you know that looked stupid!
The runners had been removed from his sleigh;
The ruts were termed dangerous by the E.P.A.
And people had started to call for the cops
When they heard sled noises on their roof-tops.
Second-hand smoke from his pipe had his workers quite
frightened. His fur trimmed red suit was called
"Unenlightened."
And to show you the strangeness of life's ebbs and flows,
Rudolf was suing over unauthorized use of his nose And had
gone on Geraldo, in front of the nation, Demanding millions
in over-due compensation.
So, half of the reindeer were gone; and his wife,
Who suddenly said she'd enough of this life,
Joined a self-help group, packed, and left in a whiz,
Demanding from now on her title was Ms.
And as for the gifts, why, he'd ne'er had a notion
That making a choice could cause so much commotion.
Nothing of leather, nothing of fur,
Which meant nothing for him. And nothing for her.
Nothing that might be construed to pollute.
Nothing to aim. Nothing to shoot.
Nothing that clamored or made lots of noise.
Nothing for just girls. Or just for the boys.
Nothing that claimed to be gender specific.
Nothing that's warlike or non-pacific.
No candy or sweets...they were bad for the tooth.
Nothing that seemed to embellish a truth.
And fairy tales, while not yet forbidden,
Were like Ken and Barbie, better off hidden.
For they raised the hackles of those psychological
Who claimed the only good gift was one ecological.
No baseball, no football...someone could get hurt;
Besides, playing sports exposed kids to dirt.
Dolls were said to be sexist, and should be passe;
And Nintendo would rot your entire brain away.
So Santa just stood there, disheveled, perplexed;
He just could not figure out what to do next.
He tried to be merry, tried to be gay,
But you've got to be careful with that word today.
His sack was quite empty, limp to the ground;
Nothing fully acceptable was to be found.
Something special was needed, a gift that he might
Give to all without angering left or the right.
A gift that would satisfy, with no indecision,
Each group of people, every religion;
Every ethnicity, every differing hue,
Everyone, everywhere...why even you.
So here is that gift, it's price beyond worth...
"May you and your loved ones enjoy peace on Earth."
(If that fits your plans and national agenda...)
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| Posted by devil dawg 50 on 13-Aug-2005 | Why Women Would Love Being Santa Claus1. You'd never be expected to make the coffee.
2. There'd be no more early morning decisions about what to wear to the office.
3. You could grow a gut the size of Fat Albert's and consider it a job requirement.
4. One big black belt - accessorized for life!
5. There'd be no reason to have your colours done.
6. Everyone would be extremely nice to you, even if you weren't.
7. Should people suggest your belly jiggled... that is when you giggled... like a bowlful of jelly, you could hit them with your purse.
8. You'd always work in sensible footwear.
9. There'd be no need to play office politics; a hearty 'Ho! Ho! Ho!', would remind everyone who's boss.
10. You wouldn't need an expensive briefcase.
11. No one would dare ask for a ride to work.
12. Never again have to wear pantyhose or worry about your slip showing.
13. No more trips to the vending machine... you'd just snack on milk and cookies all day.
14. You'd never be asked to take an early retirement package.
15. Juggling work and family would be a breeze because your children would adore you; even your teen-agers would want to sit in your lap.
16. You'd be guaranteed the best chair in the office.
17. Age discrimination wouldn't be an issue.
18. You'd never grab the wrong coat on your way out the door.
19. No one would ask to see your job description.
20. Your co-workers would be on notice that they'd better not pout.
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| Posted by Deven T. Frasier on 13-Aug-2005 | The Top 14 Things Overheard at the White House Thanksgiving Dinner
14> "And I would like to begin the annual Thanksgiving toast, Mr. President, by recounting the words of one of my favorite Jewish Country and Western songs..."
13> "Mr. President, you're drinking the gravy again."
12> "And now for the stuffing... hey! Who put a cigar in there?!? This is NOT funny!!"
11> "I'll be back in a minute, Honey. I'm just going to offer the intern a little stuffing."
10> "Roasted turkey!? Dammit, is the deep fryer broken again?"
9> "Man! Who are those hot young babes who came in with Gore and his wife?"
8> "Oh, come on, Al -- you did *not* invent Thanksgiving."
7> "God, I'd be thankful if HE were de-boned."
6> "I did not have seconds of that dish... mashed potatoes."
5> "Pssst... Monica, we don't kneel to say grace."
4> "God is great, God is good.
Oh, my God, I've sprouted wood."
3> "It would not be an unforeseen event for the dryness quotient of my slain meat product to be so elevated at to suggest artificial moistening as a direction in which we may eventually want to move. Then again, if..."
"Would someone just pass Greenspan the friggin' gravy already?!?"
2> "I'm sorry, Mr. Starr, no one here knows the Heimlich maneuver."
1> "Pay attention, Bill: Here's a little carving trick I learned from Lorena Bobbitt."
[ The Top 5 List www.topfive.com ]
[ Copyright 1999 by Chris White ]
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| Posted by Bob J. Blob on 13-Aug-2005 | The Top 12 Bad Things About Being A Headless Horseman
12> Friggin' sunglasses keep falling off your neck.
11> "Bad hair days" replaced by much scarier "bad jugular" days.
10> Always get disqualified for missing the first jump in the steeple chase.
9> Headless sex.
8> Cognitive thought with just a spinal cord is like trying to... trying to... DAMMIT!
7> Rectal bong hits just not the same.
6> That doofus in wardrobe uses a staple gun to keep your cape in place.
5> Forced to list your height as 5'2" on your driver's license.
4> The subtle joy of picking your nose while driving is gone forever.
3> Have to sneeze through your ass.
2> Hard to achieve that Limp Bizkit look with your red Yankees cap wedged in your armpit.
1> When you wear a party hat, you just look like a dork.
[ The Top 5 List www.topfive.com ]
[ Copyright 1999 by Chris White ]
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| Posted by The One on 13-Aug-2005 | Is There a Santa Claus? An Engineering Analysis
As a result of an overwhelming lack of requests, and with research help from that renowned scientific journal SPY magazine (January, 1990) - I am pleased to present the annual scientific inquiry into Santa Claus.
1. No known species of reindeer can fly. BUT there are 300,000 species of living organisms yet to be classified, and while most of these are insects and germs, this does not COMPLETELY rule out flying reindeer which only Santa has ever seen.
2. There are 2 billion children (persons under 18) in the world. BUT since Santa doesn't (appear to) handle the Muslim, Hindu, Jewish and Buddhist children, that reduces the workload to 15% of the total - 378 million according to Population Reference Bureau. At an average (census) rate of 3.5 children per household, that's 91.8 million homes. One presumes there's at least one good child in each.
3. Santa has 31 hours of Christmas to work with, thanks to the different time zones and the rotation of the earth, assuming he travels east to west (which seems logical). This works out to 822.6 visits per second. This is to say that for each Christian household with good children, Santa has 1/1000th of a second to park, hop out of the sleigh, jump down the chimney, fill the stockings, distribute the remaining presents under the tree, eat whatever snacks have been left, get back up the chimney, get back into the sleigh and move on to the next house. Assuming that each of these 91.8 million stops are evenly distributed around the earth (which, of course, we know to be false but for the purpose of our calculations we will accept), we are now talking about 0.78 miles per household, a total trip of 75.5 million miles, not counting stops to do what most of us must do at least once every 31 hours, plus feeding and so forth. This means that Santa's sleigh is moving at 650 miles per second, 3000 times the speed of sound. For purposes of comparison, the fastest man-made vehicle on earth, the Ulysses space probe, moves at a poky 27.4 miles per second - a conventional reindeer can run, tops, 15 miles per hour.
4. The payload on the sleigh adds another interesting element. Assuming that each child gets nothing more than a medium-sized Lego set (2 pounds), the sleigh is carrying 321,300 tons, not counting Santa, who is invariably described as overweight. On land, conventional reindeer can pull no more than 300 pounds. Even granting that "flying reindeer" (see point #1) could pull TEN TIMES the normal amount, we cannot do the job with eight, or even nine. We need 214,200 reindeer. This increases the payload - not even counting the weight of the sleigh - to 353,430 tons. Again, for comparison - this is four times the weight of the Queen Elizabeth.
5. 353,000 tons traveling at 650 miles per second creates enormous air resistance - this will heat the reindeer up in the same fashion as spacecraft reentering the earth's atmosphere. The lead pair of reindeer will absorb 14.3 QUINTILLION joules of energy. Per second. Each. In short, they will burst into flame almost instantaneously, exposing the reindeer behind them, and create deafening sonic booms in their wake. The entire reindeer team will be vaporized within 4.26 thousandths of a second. Santa, meanwhile, will be subjected to centrifugal forces 17,500.06 times greater than gravity. A 250-pound Santa (which seems ludicrously slim) would be pinned to the back of his sleigh by 4,315,015 pounds of force.
In conclusion - If Santa ever DID deliver presents on Christmas Eve, he's dead now!
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| Posted by Steve j. Kapton on 13-Aug-2005 | Toys at Christmas
'Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house,
I searched for the tools to hand to my spouse.
Instructions were studied and we were inspired,
in hopes we could manage "Some Assembly Required."
The children were quiet (not asleep) in their beds,
while Mom and I faced the evening with dread:
a kitchen, two bikes, Barbie's town house to boot!
And, thanks to Grandpa, a train with a toot!
We opened the boxes, my heart skipped a beat....
let no parts be missing or parts incomplete!
Too late for last-minute returns or replacement;
if we can't get it right, it goes in the basement!
When what to my worrying eyes should appear,
but 50 sheets of directions, concise, but not clear,
with each part numbered and every slot named,
so if we failed, only we could be blamed.
More rapid than eagles the parts then fell out,
all over the carpet they were scattered about.
"Now bolt it! Now twist it! Attach it right there!
Slide on the seats, and staple the stair!
Hammer the shelves, and nail to the stand."
"Dearest" said Mom, "you just glued my hand."
And then in a twinkling, I knew for a fact
that all the toy dealers had indeed made a pact
to keep parents busy all Christmas Eve night
with "assembly required" till morning's first light.
We spoke not a word, but kept bent at our work,
till our eyes, they went bleary; our fingers all hurt.
The coffee went cold and the night, it wore thin
before we attached the last rod and last pin.
Then laying the tools away in the chest,
we fell into bed for a well-deserved rest.
But I said to my wife just before I passed out,
"This will be the best Christmas, without any doubt.
Tomorrow we'll cheer, let the holiday ring,
and not have to run to the store for a thing!
We did it! We did it! The toys are all set
for the perfect, most perfect, Christmas, I bet!"
Then off to dreamland and sweet repose
I gratefully went, though I suppose
there's something to say for those self-deluded-
I'd forgotten that BATTERIES are never included!
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| Posted by Mike H. Stevens on 13-Aug-2005 | The Top 17 Signs the Santa at the Mall is Nuts
17> Shaves head and beard, then insists on being called "Santa Kurtz."
16> Tells kids about the comparative kill ratio of the AK-47 over the Daisy Air Rifle.
15> Those nasty chewing tobacco streaks in his beard.
14> Has a complimentary tray of North Pole "Tundra Oysters" ready for the toddlers.
13> After every child's request, asks, "Wouldn't you rather have a nice big bag of clams?"
12> The twinkle in his eye and the twitch of his nose are due to a lack of medication.
11> Every so often, snaps into a Slim Jim and growls, "You've been bad and now you're going down, punk!"
10> Promises children O.J. will be cleared of all wrongdoing.
9> Caught drinking red wine with fish during break.
8> "Hey kid, bet I can wet my pants faster than you can!"
7> Insists on blowing his nose in children's hair.
6> Despite massive photographic evidence to the contrary, claims to have never worn white gloves or shiny black boots.
5> That snowy beard? Nothin' but nose hair.
4> Answers every child's toy request with "Dream on, pee wee!"
3> Enjoys it so much when small children urinate on his lap, he happily returns the favor.
2> Instead of a candy cane, gives each kid a pack of Marlboros and a homemade venison pie.
1> While it's admittedly a nifty trick, blowing smoke rings out of his tracheotomy hole is just scaring the hell out of the kiddies.
[ The Top 5 List www.topfive.com ]
[ Copyright 1997, 1999 by Chris White ]
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