Canonical List of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas Variations, part , 1 of 2
The Jokester
Originally posted by: Mon...@UNC.Edu on Sat Dec 13 12:57:59 1997
Canonical List of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas variations
December 9, 1997
Compiled by: Matthew Monroe
Contains 77 versions of the classic poem, including headers from
most of the posts and credits when available. The posts range from
innocent and cute to vulgar and obscence, so read at your own discretion.
I collected half of these over the last few years, then added another 30
versions recently, found simply by using Deja News.
I'd be happy to receive any additional versions you might have.
Matt
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Matthew Monroe Mon...@UNC.Edu
Analytical Chemistry http://www.unc.edu/~monroem/
UNC - Chapel Hill This tagline is umop apisdn
_____
He's dead, Jim. You get his phaser, I'll get his wallet.
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Contents
Rather than repeat the title of each version, I'll just list the
filenames since they describe the content. The actual versions follow
in the same order as the filenames shown here.
TwasAirWarrior.jok
TwasAlcoholic.jok
TwasAol.jok
TwasAssembly.jok
TwasAuction.jok
TwasBowden(FB).jok
TwasBronx.jok
TwasBundy.jok
TwasCajun.jok
TwasCat.jok
TwasChanukah.jok
TwasChemistry.jok
TwasComputer.jok
TwasComputer2.jok
TwasCoOp.jok
TwasDelinquent.jok
TwasDictionary.jok
TwasDiet.jok
TwasDirty.jok
TwasDrugs.jok
TwasEbonics.jok
TwasEngland.jok
TwasESPN.jok
TwasFinals.jok
TwasFinalXmas.jok
TwasFreud.jok
TwasFuture.jok
TwasGay.jok
TwasGay2.jok
TwasGay3.jok
TwasGenealogist.jok
TwasGerman.jok
TwasGovShutdown.jok
TwasGuam.jok
TwasGun.jok
TwasHalloween.jok
TwasHamRadio.jok
TwasHispanic.jok
TwasHomeBrew.jok
TwasInHood.jok
TwasInternet.jok
TwasKwanzaa.jok
TwasLegal.jok
TwasMaxine.jok
TwasMicrosoft.jok
TwasMilitary.jok
TwasMom.jok
TwasNationals.jok
TwasNet.jok
TwasNewt.jok
TwasNewYork.jok
TwasNoXmas.jok
TwasObnoxious.jok
TwasOriginal.jok
TwasPOF.jok
TwasPoliticallyCorrect.jok
TwasRapper.jok
TwasRedneck.jok
TwasRedneck2.jok
TwasReligious.jok
TwasRude.jok
TwasSex2.jok
TwasSexual.jok
TwasShopping.jok
twasSports.jok
TwasStarTrek.jok
TwasStarTrek2.jok
TwasStealth.jok
TwasStHick.jok
TwasStitcher.jok
-end part 1
-begin part 2
TwasTexMex.jok
TwasThanksgiving.jok
TwasTrucker.jok
TwasTV.jok
TwasUseNet.jok
TwasXFiles.jok
TwasXXXPicture.jok
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Subject: Air Warrior Xmas
From: n...@star.edu (E.G.)
Date: 1997/12/03
Message-ID: <no-031297...@news.flinet.com>
Newsgroups: alt.games.air-warrior
[More Headers]
The following was posted on the AOL MacAW message boards, and is re-posted
here, with permission from jetjock:
Subj: An Air Warrior Christmas
Date: 12/2/97 2:22:46 PM
From: Jetmech15
Posted on: America Online
Twas the night before Christmas, when in the Air Warrior sky,
There were a few of us pilots, flying up high,
My ammo was hung in the wings with care,
Hoping an enemy plane will bring them to bare,
The ground crews were all at the pub,
Talking about all kinds of hubb bubb,
Me in my flight suit, and leather cap,
There was no time for me to take a nap,
When all of a sudden, the radar lit up,
I looked east then west, north and south, no visual was made,
was I out of luck
,
The dot was red, no green, oh hell now its blue,
For I dont know what country this chap flew,
In the direction of this dot is the way I headed,
Hoping it wasn't a Spit, the plane that I dreaded,
At 1500 yards what to my wondering eyes should appear,
I'll be damned, its a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
At 800 yards, a lead turn I start,
I feel something pounding, it must be my heart,
As I finished my turn, lining up on his six,
My engine quit, oh what a fix,
I was out of fuel,
There would be no duel,
And with just the wind sound in my cockpit, oh what a shame,
I heard that fat man whistle and call them by name,
"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer! and Vixen!
On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder! and Blitzen!
Lets get out of here, for this pilot is LAME!!!!"
And in a flash, he was out of sight,
Just as I saw the first mornings light,
I headed to the "O" club after this flight,
To knock back a few, and forget about this night!!!!!!!!!!!
To all my fellow Air Warrior pilots Az, Bz, and Cz
MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Jetjock<1st Royal Guard>
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Newsgroups: rec.humor
Subject: Re: Help With Holiday Hymns
Message-ID: <49cu44$d...@decaxp.harvard.edu>
From: jth...@fas.harvard.edu (John Thornton)
Date: 27 Nov 1995 17:56:20 GMT
References: <490lmi$e...@newsbf02.news.aol.com> <1746314C8S...@mmm.com> <denatale-271...@vyger120.nando.net>
Organization: Harvard University, Cambridge, Massachusetts
Lines: 53
Epic of Santa
(author unknown)
'Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house,
There were bottles and butts left around by some louse.
And the best fifth I'd hidden by the chimney with care
Had been snatched by some bum who had found it right there.
My pals: guys and gals had been poured into their beds
To wake in the morning with hungover heads.
My mouth, full of cotton, dropped down with a snap
Because I was dying for one wee nightcap.
When through the south window there came such a yell,
I sprang to my feet to see what the hell...
And what to my bloodshot eyes should I see
But eight drunken reindeer caught in a tree.
Way in 'mongst the branches was a man in a sleigh.
I saw it was Santa, quite oiled and tres gay.
Staggering nearer those eight reindeer came
As he burped and hiccupped and called them by name:
"On Whiskey, on Vodka, we ain't got all night!
You too, Gin and Brandy, now all do it right.
Clammer up to the roof; get the hell off this wall!
Get going you rummies, we've still a long haul!"
So up on the roof went the reindeer and sleigh,
But a tree branch hit Santa before he could sway
And then to my ears, like the roll of a barrel,
Came a hell of a noise that was no Christmas carol.
So I pulled in my head and cocked a sharp ear.
Down the chimney he plunged, landing smack on his rear.
He was dressed all in red, with white fur for a trim.
And the way Santa swayed, he was tanked to the brim.
The sack on his back held nothing but booze,
And the breath that he blew nearly put me to snooze.
He was both plump and chubby and tried to stand right.
But he didn't fool me; he was high as a kite.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work
And missed half the stockings, the plastered old jerk.
And laying his thumb on the end of his nose,
He fluttered his fingers as he quoted prose.
He sprang for his sleigh at so hasty a pace
He tripped on a shingle and slid on his face.
But I heard him burp back as he passed out of sight:
"Merry Christmas, you lushes, now really get tight."
(Taken from a Christmas card and memorized in 1979.)
John Thornton
jth...@fas.harvard.edu
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Subject: Re: Night Before Christmas
From: andy efremov <efr...@ibm.net>
Date: 1997/11/24
Message-ID: <347A2A9A...@ibm.net>
Newsgroups: alt.abuse.recovery
[More Headers]
Twas a month before Christmas
From my wife came the wail,
"Take out the garbage
And go get the mail."
So I trudged to my mailbox
And what did I see?
Why, a miniature disc
And computer CD!
'Twas a limited offer
From America Online,
I knew in a twinkling
That this deal was fine!
"Unlimited" access
for one little fee,
And if I didn't like it
I could cancel it free.
So I plugged the thing in
And it just wouldn't load,
The message said "Error!"
And something in code.
And this is when I
Started getting real nervous
So I waited four hours
For "Customer Service."
This techno-geek helped me
To load and install it,
Then demanded the VISA
I keep in my wallet.
So I gave him my number
And what did I spy?
"Terms and Conditions" screens
Whistling by.
Then I got me a password
Now I'd surf the Net!
But I never hit waves,
Man, I never got wet.
I soon got so mad
I was shaking and dizzy
For my modem kept trying
But lines were all busy!
And all through the month
I kept trying this thing
But all I would hear
Was the "busy" sound ring.
So I called 1-800
And the AOL number
And waited on hold
'Til I lapsed into slumber.
So I tried then to cancel
But where's the address?
Somewhere in Virginia?
It's anyone's guess.
And several days later
I heard on the news
That 8 million people
Were trying to use
This AOL network
At the very same time
And that's when this CEO
Weasel-necked Slime
Announced the solution
On how to log on,
Don't hog the phone lines
And call in at dawn!
As you can imagine
This didn't sit well
With lots of mad users
Who started to yell.
And soon the AG's
Joined them in the attack,
"Give them their money
(Or at least part of it back)!"
And this Weasle-Man leader
Tried to calm down the throng:
"Hey, I wanted those refunds
For you all along!"
So in grandiose fashion
And a big press release
Members were told
How to get back their piece.
"Just call up this number
And ask for your money,"
But then something happened
That's practically funny.
When you call up the number
(Don't get in a tizzy)
You can't get your refund
Cause the damn number's busy!!!
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Subject: (another) THE NIGHT BEFORE...
From: JMF...@prodigy.com (Nancy Carson)
Date: 1997/12/06
Message-ID: <66c08v$1er0$1...@newssvr03-int.news.prodigy.com>
Newsgroups: rec.humor
[More Headers]
>From the Internet........
'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 Dad
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."
"Honey," said hubby, "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 husband 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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Subject: `Twas the night before Christmas'' Handwritten Goes For $ 211,500
From: patdw...@aol.com (Patdwfsyte)
Date: 1997/12/06
Message-ID: <19971206215...@ladder02.news.aol.com>
Newsgroups: alt.gossip.royalty
[More Headers]
`Twas the night before Christmas'' was on the block and all through Christie's
auction house, big bidders were stirring, pushing up the price. A handwritten,
1860 manuscript of the classic Clement Clark Moore poem drew a high bid of
$211,500 Friday, going to buyers who immediately put it on display for
Christmas. The holiday poem, formally titled ``A Visit from St. Nicholas,''
didn't score the highest bid at the auction. That honor went to a condolence
letter from Abraham Lincoln, which sold for $425,000, Christie's spokeswoman
Laurie Dodge said. The Moore manuscript went to dealers Joseph Maddalena and
Seth Kaller, who put it on display for the holidays at Kaller's American
Gallery, located in Macy's Herald Square.A Beverly Hills manuscript dealership,
Profiles in History, bought the 1862 Lincoln letter, which the president wrote
to the daughter of a friend killed in the Civil War.It read in part: ``In this
sad world of ours, sorrow comes to all; and, to the young, it comes with
bitterest agony, because it takes them unaware.''
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Subject: Re: Ode to St. Bobby
From: Noles <t-tu...@worldnet.att.net>
Date: 1997/11/25
Message-ID: <65g8ca$8...@mtinsc03.worldnet.att.net>
Newsgroups: alt.sports.football.college.fsu-seminoles
[More Headers]
KILLER GATOR ATTACK!:
"A VISIT FROM ST. BOWDEN"
By Killer Gator Attack! November 1997
32-29 GATORS WIN! 32-29 GATORS WIN!
----------------------------------------------------
'Twas the 22nd of November, up in Gainesville
The whole Swamp was roaring, no one could sit still!;
The seminoles came in all pompous and sassy
Planning to take a title back to old Tallacrappy;
Their taunting banners were hung with great care
Certain that St. Bowden would answer their prayer;
Chanting and chopping, wearing yellows and reds
While visions of national titles danced in their heads;
With Steve in his visor, and Bobby in his cap
Gators and noles hunkered down for a furious scrap;
When up from the Gators there arose such a clatter
I sprang from my seat to see what was the matter!;
My eyes glued to the field, I shed a brief tear
and a nole sitting near me threw up in his beer;
For what to my wondering eyes should appear
But a BIG PLAY Gator offense...and seminole FEAR!;
With our Coach in his visor, on the attack
I knew in a moment, OUR OFFENSE WAS BACK!
More rapid than eagles, QB's swapped in the game
He coached and he shouted, and called them by name:
"Now, Brindise! Now, Johnson! Now Brindise!" he schemed
"To Quezzie! To McGriff! To Taylor and Karim!"
The noles title hopes vanished, I seem to recall
Began to dash away, dash away, dash away all!
A strong Gator O-line, finding its niche
Collins! Blackshear! Kalich, Piller, and Ritch!
Fred Taylor was awesome, running swift, running hard
Scorched the noles for four touchdowns, one for 61 yards!
The Gator Defense was fierce, applying great pressure
Delivering sacks by George! Rutledge and Chester!
The secondary covered tough, causing nole hopes to drown
Huge plays by Weary, George, Williams and Brown!
D-line and backers played mighty, closing up holes
Goal line stands for the ages, forcing field goals;
With a big run late, the noles hoped to embarrass
But No Sir, we STOPPED 'em, THANK YOU MIKE HARRIS!
Noles led with two minutes, thought they'd make us eat crow
Till Dougie hit Quezzie on a HUGE Curl-and-Go!
Fred Taylor's last run, and the nole's season of promise
Was chomped into pieces, and picked off by Duane Thomas!
St. Bowden was crushed, and his big round belly
Shook when he cried, like a bowl full of jelly.
As the noles fled the Swamp, it was SOOO sweet to hear
All of them crying: "Just wait 'til next year!"
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The night before Christmas...... (An ex-Nutworks twisted tale)
'Twas the night before Christmas, an all through the block,
Not a creature was stirring, not even Ed Kotch.
The stockings were hung, by the furnace with care.
In hopes that by morning, they'd all still be there.
Me an this skank, were just getting ready for bed.
I wore pajamas, she had a paper bag for her head.
When up on the roof, I heard a big crash,
I thought it was a burglar, I was gonna kick ass!
I went out on the fire escape, looked up in the sky,
An what did I see, but this freakin fat guy!
With a red suit and boots, that came up to his knees,
In the moonlight he looked, just like Dom DeLouise.
He had a big sled, being pulled by reindeer.
He called one of them Dancer, so I assumed he was queer.
As he crept off the roof, it became clear to me,
That this guy was lookin, to steal my TV!
Over his shoulder, he had a big sack.
He came down the stairs, while I planned my attack.
I waited a second, till the time it seemed ripe.
Bopped him on the head, * botta bing * with a pipe!
He fell to the floor, with a groan and a thud.
I was kinda surprised, that I didn't see blood.
Instead he rolled over, looked me in the eye.
When I saw who I'd hit, I near started to cry.
I said "Hey 'yo Santa, I'm sorry all right?"
"Not for nuttin" he said, "but this just ain't my night!"
"I got lost in the Bronx, ran over some Nuns."
"Had a near miss by Kennedy, Rudolf's got the runs..."
"I'm out all freakin night, I'm bustin my hump."
"But I can't finish now, not with this lump!"
"So do me a favor, and be a real pal."
"Take over for me...be Santa Sal."
I say 'Yo! I'm from Brooklyn, I ain't right for the part.
But he says that Santa Claus, comes from the heart.
He made me a offer, I couldn't refuse.
Stop at every house....except for the Jews!
I got into the suit, jumped onto the sleigh,
Wondering just why it was, reindeer smelled that way.
Took off on my mission, didn't want to be late.
While old Nick spent the night, hosin' my date.
That night I was Santa, bringing kids joy and bliss.
And if you don't believe that...hey, jingle dis!
Since then I been with him, each year in the cold.
Riding shotgun with Santa, 'cause he's fat, and he's old.
I'm his number one helper, I been deputized.
So on this Christmas Eve, don't you be surprised.
If you hear a voice say, real loud and abrupt.
"Merry Christmas to all, thanks alot...eh - shutup!"
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Date: 8-DEC-1996 20:01:31.18
Subj: Al Bundy Christmas
An Al Bundy Christmas (taken from that hour-long episode with Sam Kinison)
Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house
not a piece of food was stirring, not even a mouse.
The children were sleeping, all tucked in their beds
while the wife's constant whining was drilling his head.
The stockings were hung round daddy's neck like a tie
with a note attached that read, "Presents or Die!"
But this year daddy had money all locked in the bank
but they closed early. Now dad's in the tank.
When all of a sudden, Santa appeared.
His big pot belly and booze in his beard.
"Ho ho ho!" As he laughed merrily,
I said,"Santa, you do so much for others, do something for me."
"Give it up Bundy, you only sell shoes.
Your son is a sneak thief. You daughter's a flooze.
Not only your children, but how 'bout your wife.
Hair like an A-bomb, nails like a knife."
He went back up the chimney, that fat old bum
He mooned me 2 times and stuck out his tongue.
He got back on his sled, and as he broke wind with glee,
he said, "You're married with children. You'll never be free."
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Newsgroups: rec.humor
Subject: Cajun Christmas
Message-ID: <2dod38$k...@darkstar.UCSC.EDU>
From: burc...@cats.ucsc.edu (Toxic Avenger)
Date: 3 Dec 1993 22:03:20 GMT
Organization: University of California, Santa Cruz
Lines: 143
As promised and without permission...
- De Night Before Christmas, I GAR RAN TEE It, HooooWee! -
(Aka The Cajun Version)
Cajun Night Before Christmas
by "Trosclair"
Published by Pelican Publishing Co. 1988
'Twas the night before Christmas
An' all t'ru de house
Dey don't a t'ing pass
Not even a mouse
De chirren been nezzle
Good snug on de flo'
An' Mamm pass de pepper
T'ru de crack on de do'.
Den Mama in de fireplace
Done roas' up de ham
Stir up de gumbo
An' make bake de yam.
Den out on de by-you
Dey got such a clatter
Make soun' link old Boudreau
Done fall off his ladder.
I run like a rabbit
To got to de do'
Trip over the dorg
An' fall on de flo'.
As I look out de do'
In de light o' de moon
I t'ink "Manh, you crazy
Or got ol' too soon."
Cuz dere on de by-you
W'en I stretch ma' neck stiff
Dere's eight alligator
A pullin' de skiff.
An' a little fat drover
Wit' a long pole-ing stick
I know r'at away
Got to be ole St. Nick.
Mo' fas'er and fas'er
De 'gator dey came
He whistle an' holler
An' call dem by name:
"Ha Gaston!
Ha, Tiboy!
Ha, Pierre an' Alcee'
Gee, Ninette!
Gee Suzette!
Celeste and Renee!"
"To de top o' de porch
To de top o' de wall
Make crawl, alligator
An' be sho' you don' fall."
Like Tante Flo's cat
T'ru de treetop he fly
W'en de big ol' houn' dorg
Come a run hisse'f by
Like dat up de porch
Dem ole 'gator clim!
Wit' de skiff full o' toy
An' St. Nicklus behin'.
Den on top de porch roof
It soun' like de hail
W'en all dem big 'gator
Done sot down dey tail.
Den down de chimney
I yell with a bam
An' St. Nicklus fall
An' sit on de yam.
"Sacre!" he axclaim
"Ma pant got a hole
I done sot ma'se'f
On dem red hot coal."
He got on his foots
An' jump like a card
Out to de flo'
Where he lan' wit' a SPLAT!
He was dress in musk-rat
>From his head to his foot
An' his clothes is all dirty
Wit' ashes an' soot.
A sack full o' playt'ing
He t'row on his back
He look like a burglar
An' dass fo' a fack.
His eyes how dey shine
His dimple how merry!
Maybe he been drink
De wine from blackberry.
His cheek was like a rose
His nose like a cherry
On secon' t'ought maybe
He lap up de sherry.
Wit' snow-white chin whisker
An' quiverin' belly
He shook w'en he laugh
Like de stomberry jelly!
But a wink in his eye
An' a shook o' his head
Make my confi-dence dat
I don' got to be scared.
He don' do no talkin'
Gone straight to his work
Put playt'ing in sock
An' den turn wit' a jerk.
He put bot' his han'
Dere on top o' his head
Cas' an eye on de chimney
An' den he done said:
"Wit' all o' dat fire
An' dem burnin' hot flame
Me I ain' goin' back
By de way dat I came."
So he run out de do'
An' he clim' to de roof
He ain' no fool, him
For to make one more goof.
He jump in his skiff
An' crack his big whip.
De 'gator move down
An' don' make one slip.
An' I hear him shout loud
As a splashin' he go
"Merry Christmas to all
'Til I saw you some mo'!"
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A CAT'S CHRISTMAS
'Twas the night before Christmas
and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring,
not even a mouse.
'Cuz the cat had pounced on him
and tore him apart-
Ate his mousey intestines
And chewed up his heart.
Kitty thought he heard sleighbells,
which made him take pause-
He stopped daintily lickng
the blood from his claws.
"Must be Santa" thought Kitty
(that quite clever cat)
'Cuz nobody else climbs down
the chimney like that.
Indeed it was ol' Santa,
so jolly and fat
With a load of presents
and all for the cat!
"Wow, the best Christmas ever!"
Kitty thought with a purr,
Then he coughed up a hairball
and shed some more fur.
Yeah, YOU might not think it's much of a poem, but then,
you're not a cat!
AUTHORS UNKNOWN
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The Night Before Chanukah
'Twas the night before Chanukah, boychicks and maidels
Not a sound could be heard, not even the draidels.
The Menorah was set on the chimney, alight
In the kitchen the Bubba hut gechapt a bite.
Salami, pastrami, a glessala tay
And zayerah pickles with bagels, oy vay!
Gezunt and geschmack, the kinderlech felt
While dreaming of tagelach and Chanukah gelt.
The clock on the mantlepiece away was tickin'
And Bubba was serving a schtickala chicken.
A tumult arose like a thousand brauches,
Santa had fallen and broken his tuches.
I put on my slippers, eins, tsvay, drei,
While Bubba was now on the herring and rye.
I grabbed for my bathrobe and buttoned my gotkes
While Bubba was busy devouring the latkes.
To the window I ran and to my surprise
A little red yarmulka greeted my eyes.
Then he got to the door and saw the Menorah,
"Yiddishe kinder," he said, "Kenehora.
I thought I was in a goyisha hoise,
But as long as I'm here, I'll leave a few toys."
With much gesshray, I asked, "Du bist a Yid?"
"Avada, mein numen is Schloimey Claus, kid."
"Come into the kitchen, I'll get you a dish,
A guppell, a schtickala fish."
With smacks of delight, he started his fressen,
Chopped liver, knaidlach and kreplah gegessen.
Along with his meal, he had a few schnapps,
When it came to eating, this boy was the tops.
He asked for some knishes with pepper and salt,
But they were so hot, he yelled "Oy Gevalt."
Unbuttoning his haizen, he rose from the tisch,
And said, "Your Kosher essen is simply delish."
As he went to the door, he said "I'll see you later,
I'll be back next Pesach, in time for the Seder."
More rapid than eagles his prancers they came,
As he whistled and shourted and called them by name:
"Now Izzy, now Morris, now Yitzak, now Sammy,
Now Irving and Maxie, and Moishe and Mannie."
He gave a gesshray as he drove out of sight:
"Gooten Yomtov to all, and to all a good night."
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Date: 14-DEC-1995 12:28:46.77
Subject: Chemistry Twas the night ...
'Twas the night before Christmas
The lab was quite still;
Not a Bunsen was burning
(Nor had they the will).
The test tubes were placed
In their racks with great care,
In hopes Father Chemistry
Soon would be there.
The students were sleeping
So sound in their dorms,
All dreaming of fluids
And Crystalline forms.
Lab-Aids in their aprons
And I in my smock.
When outside the lab
There arose such a roar
I leaped from my stool
And fell flat on the floor.
Out ot the fire escape
All of us flew.
What was the commotion?
Not one of knew.
The flood-lights shone out
O're the campus so bright
It looked like old Stockholm
On Nobel Prize Night.
My fume-blinded eyes
Then viewed (dare I say?)
Eight anions pulling
A water-trough sleigh.
And holding the bonds
Tied to each one of them
Was a figure I knew
As our own Papa Chem.
With speeds in excess
Of most X-rays they came.
As they Dopplered along
He called each one by name.
"Now Nitrite, now Phosphate,
Now Borate, now Chloride
On Citrate, on Bromate,
On Sulfite and Oxide.
Forget what you know
Of that randomness stuff,
Let's go straight to that roof,
If you've quanta enough."
As fluids Bernoullian
Behave in a pinch,
Those ions said "Alchemist
This is a cinch."
So up to the lab-roof
Those "chargers" they sped
With Pop Chemistry safe
In his water-trough sled.
Just a microsec later
Electroscopes showed
Charged particles coming
To our lab abode
We raced back inside,
And what d'ya think?
Down the fume-hood Pop Chem fell,
Right into the sink.
He was dressed in a lab-coat,
Quite ragged and old,
With removable buttons
(The style, we're told)
A tray-full of beakers
He clutched to his heart--
And under his arm
Was an orbital chart.
His eyes through his goggles
I just couldn't see
His hands were all yellow
From H-N-O-3.
His head was quite bald
With a fringe all around
Like a ring test for iron,
That same shade of brown.
He puffed a cigar
With a smell not at all
Unlike the organic lab
Right down the hall.
The smoke billowed forth
From his angular face
And with Brownian Movement
Enveloped the place.
He was thin as a match
And not terribly tall
He wasn't the type
I'd expected at all
But a look at his clothes,
In the lab's harsh white light,
With their acid-burn holes--
He's a chemist all right!
He didn't say much
(He had no time to kill)
And filled all the test tubes
With nary a spill.
Then placing them bak
On the benches with care
He dashed to the fume-hood
And rose through the air.
He called to his team
And his ions took off
And kinetics took care
Of Pop Chem and his trough,
But I heard him cry out
As he flew down the street
"Merry Holidays to all!
May your stockrooms stay neat!"
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Newsgroups: rec.humor
Subject: Night before Xmas
Message-ID: <4btf42$9...@saluki-news.wham.siu.edu>
From: Peter Piacenza <piac...@aux.c-chem.siu.edu>
Date: 28 Dec 1995 06:57:06 GMT
Organization: SIUC
Lines: 80
Twas the night before crisis,
And all through the house,
Not a program was working,
Not even a browse.
Programmers were wrung out,
Too mindless to care,
Knowing chances of cutover
Hadn't a prayer.
The users were nestled
All snug in their beds,
While visions of inquiries
Danced in their heads.
When out in the lobby
There arose such a clatter,
That I sprang from my tube
To see what was the matter.
And what to my wondering
Eyes should appear,
But a Super Programmer,
Oblivious to fear.
More rapid than eagles,
His programs they came
And he whistled and shouted
And called them by name.
On Update! On Add!
On Inquiry! On Delete!
On Batch Jobs! On Closing!
On Functions Complete!
His eyes were glazed over,
His fingers were lean,
From weekends and nights
Spent in front of a screen.
A wink of his eye,
And a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know
I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word,
But went straight to his work,
Turning specs into code,
Then he turned with a jerk.
And laying his fingers
Upon the ENTER key,
The system came up,
And worked perfectly!
The updates updated;
The deletes they deleted;
The inquiries inquired;
And the closing completed.
He tested each whistle,
He tested each bell,
With nary an abend,
And all had gone well.
The system was finished,
The tests were concluded,
The client's last changes
Were even included!
And the client exclaimed,
With a snarl and a taunt,
"It's just what I asked for,
But it's not what I want!"
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Subject: The Nights Before Christmas [Archive]
From: j...@NOSPAMcyberjunkie.com (JRF)
Date: 1997/12/07
Message-ID: <66f02l$2hu$1...@hirame.wwa.com>
Newsgroups: alt.humor,alt.jokes,alt.tasteless.jokes,rec.humor
[More Headers]
- The Input Process Before Christmas -
(Aka The Computer Version)
T'was the night before Christmas, and all through the shop,
The computers were whirring; they never do stop.
The power was on and the temperature right,
In hopes that the input would feed back that night.
The system was ready, the program was coded,
And memory drums had been carefully loaded;
While adding a Christmasy glow to the scene,
The lights on the console, flashed red, white and green.
When out in the hall there arose such a clatter,
The programmer ran to see what was the matter.
Away to the hallway he flew like a flash,
Forgetting his key in his curious dash.
He stood in the hallway and looked all about,
When the door slammed behind him, and he was locked out.
Then, in the computer room what should appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer;
And a little old man, who with scarcely a pause,
Chuckled: "My name is Santa...the last name is Claus."
The computer was startled, confused by the name,
Then it buzzed as it heard the old fellow exclaim:
"This is Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen,
And Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen."
With all these odd names, it was puzzled anew;
It hummed and it clanked, and a main circuit blew.
It searched in its memory core, trying to "think";
Then the multi-line printer went out on the blink.
Unable to do its electronic job,
It said in a voice that was almost a sob:
"Your eyes - how they twinkle - your dimples so merry,
Your cheeks so like roses, your nose like a cherry,
Your smile - all these things, I've been programmed to know,
And at data-recall, I am more than so-so;
But your name and your address (computers can't lie),
Are things that I just cannot identify.
You've a jolly old face and a little round belly,
That shakes when you laugh like a bowlful of jelly;
My scanners can see you, but still I insist,
Since you're not in my program, you cannot exist!"
Old Santa just chuckled a merry "ho, ho",
And sat down to type out a quick word or so.
The keyboard clack-clattered, its sound sharp and clean,
As Santa fed this "data" to the machine:
"Kids everywhere know me; I come every year;
The presents I bring add to everyone's cheer;
But you won't get anything - that's plain to see;
Too bad your programmers forgot about me."
Then he faced the machine and said with a shrug,
"Merry Christmas to All," as he pulled out its plug,
"And to all, a good night!"
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Twas the Night before Solstice
Twas the night before solstice and all through the co-op
Not a creature was messing the calm status quo up.
The children all nestled all snug in the their beds,
Dreaming of lentils and warm whole-grain breads.
We'd welcomed the winter that day after school
By dancing and drumming and burning the Yule,
A more meaningful gesture to honor the planet
Than buying more trinkets for Mom or Aunt Janet,
Or choosing a tree just to murder and stump it
And dress it all up like a seasonal strumpet.
My lifemate and I, having turned down the heat,
Slipped under the covers for a well-deserved sleep,
When from out on the lawn there came such a roar
I fell from my futon and rolled to the floor.
I crawled to the window and pulled back the latch,
And muttered, "Aw, where is that Neighborhood Watch?"
I saw there below through the murk of the night
A sleigh and eight reindeer of nonstandard height.
At the reins of that sleigh sat a mean-hearted knave
Who treated each deer like his persunal slave.
I'd seen him before in some ads for car loans,
Plus fast food and soft drinks and cellular phones.
He must have cashed in from his mercantile chores,
Since self-satisfaction just oozed from his pores.
He called each by name, as if he were right
To treat them like humans, entrenching his might:
"Now Donner, now Blitzen," and other such aliases,
Showing his true Eurocentrical biases.
With a snap of his fingers, away they all flew,
Like lumberjacks served up a plate of tofu.
Up to the rooftop they carried the sleigh
(The holes in the shingles are there to this day).
Out bounded the man, who went straight to the flue.
I knew in an instant just what I should do.
After donning my slippers, downstairs did I dash
To see the trespasser emerge from the ash.
His clothes were all covered with soot, but of course,
From our wood-fueled alternative energy source.
Through the grime I distinguished the make of his duds --
He was dressed all in fur, fairly dripping with blood.
"We're a cruelty-free house!" I proclaimed with such heat
He was startled and tripped on the logs at his feet.
He stood back up dazed, but with mirth in his eyes.
It was then that I noticed his unhealthy size.
He was almost as wide as when standing erect,
A lover of fatty fried foods, I suspect.
But that wasn't all to make sane persuns choke:
In his teeth sat a pipe that was belching out smoke!
I could scarcely believe what invaded our house.
This carcinogenic and overweight louse
Was so red in the face from his energy spent,
I expected a heart attack right there and then.
Behind him he toted a red velvet bag
Full to exploding with sinister swag.
He asked, "Where is your tree?" with a face somewhat long.
I said, "Out in the yard, which is where it belongs."
"But where will I put all the presents I've brought?"
I looked at him squarely and said, "Take the lot
To some frivolous people who think that they need
To succumb to the sickness of commerce and greed,
"Whose only joy comes from the act of consuming,
Thus sending the stock of the retailers booming."
He blinked and said, "Ho, ho, ho! But you're kidding."
I gave him a stare that was stern and forbidding.
"Surely the children need something with which to have fun?
It's like childhood's over before it's begun."
He looked in my eyes for some sign of assent,
But I strengthened my will and refused to relent.
"They have plenty of fun," I cut to the gist,
"And your mindless distractions have never been missed.
They take CPR so that they can save lives,
And go door-to-door for the used clothing drives.
"They recycle, renew, reuse -- and reveal
For saving the planet a laudable zeal.
When they padlock themselves to a fence to protest
Against nuclear power, we think they're the best."
He said, "But they're children -- lo, when do they play?"
I countered, "Is that why you've driven your sleigh,
To bring joy to the hearts of each child and tot?
All right, open your bag; let's see what you've got."
He sheepishly did as I'd asked and behold!
A Malibu Barbie in a skirt made of gold.
"You think that my girls will like playing with this,
An icon of sexist, consumerist kitsch?
"With it's unnatural and airheaded grin,
This trollop makes every girl yearn to be thin,
And take up fad diets and binging and purging
Instead of respecting her own body's urging
"To welcome the shape that her body has found
And rejoice to be lanky, short, skinny, or round."
Deep in his satchel he searched for a toy,
Saying, "This is a hit with most little boys."
And what did he put in my trembling hand
But a gun from the BrainBlasters Power Command!
"It's a 'hit,' to be sure," I sneered in his face,
"And a plague to infect the whole human race!
"How 'bout grenades or some working bazookas
To turn all of our kids into half-wit palookas?"
I seized on his bag just to see for myself
The filth being spread by this odious elf.
An Easy-Bake Oven -- ah, goddess, what perfidy!
To hoodwink young girls into household captivity!
Plus an archery play set with shafts that fly out,
The very thing needed to put your eye out.
And toy metal tractors, steam shovels, and cranes
For tearing down woodlands and scarring the plains,
Plus "games" like Monopoly, Pay Day, Tycoon,
As if lessons in greed can't start up too soon.
And even more weapons from BrainBlasters Co.,
Like cannons and nunchucks and ray guns that glow.
That's all I could find in his red velvet sack --
Perverseness and mayhem to set us all back.
(But I did find one book that caused me to ponder --
Some fine bedtime tales by a fellow named Garner.)
"We need none of this," I announced in a huff,
"No 'business-as-usual' holiday stuff.
"We sow in our offspring more virtue than this.
Your 'toys' offer some things they never will miss."
The big man's expression was a trifle bereaved
As he shouldered his pack and got ready to leave.
"I pity the kids who grow up around here,
Who're never permitted to be of good cheer,
Who aren't allowed leisure for leisure's own sake,
But must fret every minute -- it makes my heart break!"
"Enough histrionics! Don't pity our kids
If they don't do as Macy's or Toys 'R' Us bids.
They live by their principles first and foremost
And know what's important," to him did I boast.
"Pray, could I meet them?" "Oh no, they're not here.
They're up on the roof, liberating your deer!"
Then Santa Claus sputtered and pointed his finger
But, mad as he was, he had no time to linger.
He flew up the chimney like smoke from a fire,
And up on the roof I heard voices get higher.
I ran outside the co-op to see him react
To my children's responsible, kindhearted act.
He chased them away, and disheartened, dismayed,
He rehitched his reindeer (who'd docilely stayed).
I watched with delight as he scooted off then.
He'd be too embarrassed to come back again.
But with parting disdain, do you know what he said,
When this overweight huckster took off in his sled?
This reindeer enslaver, this exploiter of elves?
"Happy Christmas to all, but get over yourselves!!"
from "Politically Correct Holiday Stories" by James Finn Garner
Macmillan, 1995
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A Christmas story for the delinquint in all of us.
By Dean Klear
Twas the night before Christmas,
When all through the house,
The whole damn family was as drunk as a louse.
Grandma and Grandpa were singin' a song,
And the kid was in bed, floggin' his dong.
Ma home from the cathouse,
And I out of jail,
We had just settled down for a good piece of tail.
When out on the lawn,
Arose such a clatter,
I sprang off Ma to see what the fuck was a matter.
Away to the window,
I made a mad dash,
Flew open the shutters and fell on my ass.
But what to my bloodshot eyes but appear,
A rusty old sled and a dozen rein deer,
And a little old driver holding his dick,
I knew right away it was that bastard St. Nick.
(Santa)"On dasher, on Blitzen, up over those walls,
"Quickly now, damnit, or I'll cut off your balls."
Upon the roof,
He fondered and fell,
And came right down the chimney like a bat out of hell.
He staggered and stumbled on over to the door,
Tripped over his cock,
And fell on the floor.
And I heard him explain,
As he rode out of sight,
"Piss on you all, It's been a hell of a night."
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Newsgroups: rec.humor
Subject: Night Before Christmas
Message-ID: <epA4jKZH...@netcom.com>
From: sko...@netcom.com (Stan Koper)
Date: Thu, 16 Dec 1993 18:46:00 GMT
Sender: sko...@netcom.com (Stan Koper)
Organization: NETCOM On-line Communication Services (408 241-9760 guest)
Lines: 100
Ecstatic Yuletide
'Twas the nocturnal segment of the diurnal period preceding the
annual Yuletide celebration and throughout our place of residence,
kinetic activity was not in evidence among the possessors of this
potential, including that species of diminutive rodent known as
Mus musculus.
Hosiery was meticulously suspended from the forward edge of the
wood-burning caloric apparatus, pursuant to our anticipatory
pleasure regarding an imminent visitation from an eccentric
philanthropist among whose folkloric appellations is the honorific
title of St. Nick.
The prepubescent siblings, comfortably ensconced in their respective
accommodations of repose, were experiencing subconscious visual
hallucinations of variegated saccarinose fruit confections
performing choreography through their cerebrums. My conjugal
partner and I, attired in our nocturnal head-coverings, were about
to take slumberous advantage of the Arctic-like gloom when upon
the avenaceous exterior portion of the grounds there ascended such a
cacophony of dissonance that I felt compelled to arise with alacrity
from my place of repose for the purpose of ascertaining the precise
source thereof.
Hastening to the casement, I forthwith opened the barriers sealing
this fenestration, noting thereupon that the lunar brilliance without,
reflecting as it was upon the surface of a recent crystalline aqueous
precipitation, might be said to rival that of the solar meridian
itself--thus permitting my incredulous optical sensory organs to
behold a miniature airborne runnered conveyance, drawn by an octet
of diminutive specimens of the genus Rangifer, piloted by a miniscule,
aged chauffeur so ebullient and nimble that it became instantly apparent
to me that he was indeed our anticipated beatified caller.
With this ungulate motive power traveling at a greater vertiginous
velocity than patriotic alar predators, he vociferated loudly, expelled
breath musically through contracted labia, and addressed each of the
octet by his or her cognomen: "Now Dasher, now Dancer," et al, guiding
them to the uppermost exterior level of our abode, through which structure
I could readily distinguish the concatenations of each of the sum total
of the thirty-two cloven pedal extremities.
As I retracted my cranium from its erstwhile location and was performing
a pi radians pivot, our distinguished visitant achieved, with utmost
celerity, via a downward saltation, entry by way of the ceramic smoke
passage. He was clad entirely in animal integuments, soiled by the ebony
residue from partial oxidation of carboniferous fuels. His resemblance
to a street vendor I attributed to the plethora of assorted playthings
which he bore dorsally in a commodious cloth receptacle.
His orbs were scintillant with reflected luminosity, while his sub
maxillary dermal indentations gave every evidence of engaging amiability.
The capillaries of his malar regions and nasal appurtenances were engorged
with crimson circulatory fluid which, its chroma suffusing the dermal
layers, approximated the retinal sensation reflected by the Prunus avium,
or sweet cherry. His amusing sub- and supralabials resembled nothing
so much as a flexible, curved strip of wood associated with the American
aborigines and their ambient, hirsute, facial adornment had an absence
of coloring comparable to crystalline frozen hydrogen oxide vapor.
Clenched firmly between his incisors was the posterior projection of a
calumet whose gray colloidal aerosol fumes, forming a tenuous elliptical
torus about his occiput, were suggestive of a decorative seasonal circlet
of holly. His visage was wider than it was high, and when he waxed mirthful,
his corpulent abdominal region undulated in the manner of inpectinated
fruit syrup in a colloidal gel state within a hemispherical container.
He was of Napoleonic stature, neither more nor less than an obese, jocund,
multigenarian gnome, the optical perception of whom rendered me visibly
frolicsome despite every effort to refrain from being so affected by
this risiblity. By rapidly lowering and then elevating one eyelid and
rotating his head slightly eccentricly, he indicated that trepidation
on my part was superfluous.
Without utterance, but with noticeable dispatch, he commenced filling
the aforementioned appended hosiery with various of the articles of
merchandise extracted from his aforementioned previously dorsally
transported cloth receptacle. Upon completion of this task, he
executed an abrupt pi radian rotation about the vertical axis, placed
a single manual digit in lateral juxtaposition to his olfactory organ,
inclined his cranium forward in a gesture of leave taking, and effected
his egress by saltation up the smoke passage through which he had made
ingress.
He then propelled himself in a short vector onto his rustic winter
conveyance. Contracting his oral sphincter, he emitted a shrill series
of notes to the antlered quadrupeds of burden and proceeded to soar
aloft in a movement hitherto observed chiefly among the seed bearing
portions of a common weed. But I overheard his parting exclamation,
audible immediately prior to his vehiculation beyond the limits of
visibility: "Ecstatic Yuletide to the planetary constituency, and
to the selfsame assemblage, my sincerest wishes for a salubriously
beneficial and gratifyingly pleasurable period between sunset and dawn."
Stan Koper
sko...@netcom.com
plus ^Ga change, plus c'est la m^Hme chose
This message brought to you by Yarn50 and Another Editor
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Subject: A Dieter's Christmas - Poem
From: "Dandalion" <dand...@worldnet.att.net>
Date: 1997/12/06
Message-ID: <66d0rv$3...@bgtnsc03.worldnet.att.net>
Newsgroups: rec.crafts.textiles.needlework
[More Headers]
Forwarded From My mother...
----------------------------------------------------
A DIETER'S CHRISTMAS
'Twas the night before Christmas and all round my hips
were Fannie May candies that sneaked past my lips.
Fudge brownies were stored in the freezer with care
in hopes that my thighs would forget they were there.
While Mama in her girdle and I in chin straps
had just settled down to sugar-borne naps.
When out in the pantry there arose such a clatter
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the kitchen I flew like a flash
tore open the icebox then threw up the sash.
The marshmallow look of the new-fallen snow
sent thoughts of a binge to my body below.
When what to my wandering eyes should appear:
a marzipan Santa with eight chocolate reindeer!
That huge chunk of candy so luscious and slick
I knew in a second that I'd wind up sick.
The sweet-coated Santa, those sugared reindeer,
I closed my eyes tightly, but still I could hear
On Pritzker, on Stillman, on Weak One, on TOPS,
a Weight Watcher dropout from sugar detox.
>From the top of the scales to the top of the hall
now dash away pounds now dash away all.
Dressed up in Lane Bryant from my head to nightdress
my clothes were all bulging from too much excess.
My droll little mouth and my round little belly
they shook when I laughed like a bowl full of jelly.
I spoke not a word but went straight to my work
ate all of the candy then turned with a jerk.
And laying a finger beside my heartburn,
I gave a quick nod toward the bedroom I turned.
I eased into bed, to the heavens I cry
if temptation's removed I'll get thin by and by.
And I mumbled again as I turned for the night
in the morning I'll starve....'til I take that first bite!
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Newsgroups: rec.humor
Subject: The Night Before Christmas
Message-ID: <322f31e7...@netnews.worldnet.att.net>
From: lbu...@inch.com (Luis Bueno)
Date: Thu, 05 Sep 1996 20:04:29 GMT
Reply-To: lbu...@inch.com
Organization: Un Monde Sans Frontieres
Lines: 31
[I didn't write this, no flames, please! :-)]
The Night Before Christmas
Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,
the whole goddamn family was drunk as a louse,
with mom in the whore house and dad in jail,
I sat myself down to a cold glass of ale.
When out on the lawn, I heard such a clatter,
I got off my sister to see what was the matter.
And what to my stoned-out eyes should appear,
but a shitty old sleigh and eight fucking reindeer.
With a dirty old man who was beating his dick,
I knew at that moment, it must be St. Nick.
He flew across the lawn and up the house wall,
he cried onward you bastards or it's off with your balls.
Then down the chimney he came like a bat out of hell,
I knew at that moment, the fat fucker fell.
He filled all the stockings with drugs and beer,
and a big rubber dick for my brother who's queer.
And up again he went with a fart,
that son of a bitch blew my chimney apart.
And I heard him say as he flew out of sight,
"piss on you all it's been a hell of a night."
--Unknown author
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Subject: Enjoy the buzz
From: VVAG...@webtv.net (george wolsfeld)
Date: 1997/11/19
Message-ID: <64vud3$lsc$1...@newsd-101.iap.bryant.webtv.net>
Newsgroups: alt.war.vietnam
[More Headers]
Twas the night before Christmas
and I was partially alert
my perimeter was secure
with trips set in the dirt
Shadows were playing games
images appeared in my brain
The trees were making noises
things I could not explain
>From out in the front
it was the giant oak tree
The trunk began to open
it totally surprised me
Not seeing one before
I had to beware
Because out of this commo-closet
came this big black bear!
As it crept through the woods
down on his knees
An F-14 fighter flew over
marking the trees
The night lit up
as if it was day
The bear screamed "I am Phildo"
you must pay, you must pay
Leaflets were falling
like snow from the sky
Pages of cannon fodder
you must buy, you must buy
I jumped to my feet
and got ready to split
To find out that it was Phildo
that piece of shit.
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Subject: The Nights Before Christmas [Archive]
From: j...@NOSPAMcyberjunkie.com (JRF)
Date: 1997/12/07
Message-ID: <66f02l$2hu$1...@hirame.wwa.com>
Newsgroups: alt.humor,alt.jokes,alt.tasteless.jokes,rec.humor
[More Headers]
- De Nite Befo Crimmus -
(Aka The Ebonics Version)
Wuz de nite befo Crimmus;
And all ower da hood;
ereybody wuz' sleepin';
Dey wuz sleepin' good.
We hunged up our stockings;
An hoped like de' heck;
Dat old Santa Clause;
Be bringin' our check.
All o'de fambily;
Wuz layin in de beds;
While Ripple and Thunderbird;
Danced through dey heads.
I passed out inna' flo;
Right nex to my Maw;
When I heard sech a fuss;
I thunk: "It mus be de law!!!"
I looked out thru de bars;
What covered my doe;
'spectin' de sheriff;
Wif a warrent fo sho.
And what did I see;
said, "Lawd look at dat!!"
Ther' wuz a huge watermellon;
Pulled by giant warf rats!!
Now ober all de years;
Sanna Clause, he be white;
But looks liken us bros;
Gets a black Sanna dis nite.
Faster dan a Po'lees car;
My home boy he came;
He whupped on dem warf rats;
An' called dem by name!
On Leroy, on 'Lonzo;
And on Willie Lee;
On Saphire, on Chenequa;
Dey wuz a site to see!!
As he landed dat watta' mellon;
Out der in da skreet;
I knowed it was fo' sho';
Da damndest site I ebber did see.
He didn't go down no chimbley;
He picked da' lock on my doe;
An' I sez to myself;
"Shit!! He done dis befoe!!!"
He had dis big bag;
Full of prezents I 'xpect;
Wid Air Jordans and fake gold;
To wear roun' my neck.
But he left no good prezents;
Jus started stealing my shit;
Got my drugs, got my guns,
Even got my burglar's kit!!
Wit my stuff in de bag;
Out da window he flewed;
I woudda' tried to catched him;
But he stoled my 'nife too!!
He jumped on dat wadda' mellon;
An' whipped out a switch;
He wuz gone in a seccon';
Dat son of a bitch!!
Next year I be hopin':
Anutha Sanna we git;
Cuz' diz here Sanna Clause;
Jus' ain't werf a shit!!!
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Newsgroups: rec.humor
Subject: Comedy Bytes! Joke Of The Day : Christmas Eve
Message-ID: <DK2oE...@netcore.ca>
From: gkil...@netcore.ca (Gary Killops)
Date: Sun, 24 Dec 1995 03:59:07 GMT
Sender: ne...@netcore.ca (Usenet News Administrator)
Organization: Netcore
Lines: 160
Comedy Bytes! JOKE OF THE DAY for December 24, 1995
Christmas Eve
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This being Christmas Eve what better way to spread a little
holiday cheer with a comical version of Clements Moore's
"Twas The Night Before Christmas."
This wraps up the holiday humor from Comedy Bytes! for 1995.
I hope you have had a laugh or two.
Happy Holidays.
Gary Killops
The Night Before Christmas
'Twas the night before Christmas,
When all through the flat,
Not a creature was sober,
Not even the cat.
The glasses were placed
On the mantel with care,
In hopes that our Nicholas
Soon would be there;
The children were dining
At Tony's and Fred's,
Where speakeasy vintages
Danced through their heads.
And Mama with her whiskey,
And I with my gin,
Had just settled down
For an evening of sin.
When out in the lane
There arose such a clatter
I swallowed an olive--
Now what was the matter?
A gulp to the window
I fell like a flash,
Tore open the shutters
And threw up the sash.
A light on the crest
Of the new-fallen sleet
Gave a luster of mid-day
To things on the street;
When what to my wondering
Eyes should appear
But a truck loaded down
With a mountain of beer,
And a little old driver,
So lively and quick,
I knew in a moment
It must be out Nick!
More rapid than eagles
His helpers they came,
And he whistled and shouted
And called them by name,
"Now Lefty! Now Louie!
Now, Alky and Witzen!
On, Conky! On, Chowder!
On, Harry and Blitzen!
To the top of the house--
Ring the bells in the hall!
Now dash away, dash away,
Dash away all!"
As dry leaves before
The wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle,
Mount to the sky,
So up to the top-floor
The helpers they flew
With a lift full of treasure--
And Nicholas too.
And then in the twinkling
I heard on the flags
The prancing and pawing
Of bottles in bags.
As I drew in my head
And was turning around,
In the doorway our Nicholas
Came with a bound.
He was dressed like a Mayor
From his head to his feet,
And his tie was all spangled
With diamonds and sleet;
A bag full of beer
He had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler
Just opening his pack.
His rings, how they twinkled!
His sniffle, how merry!
His hands were like roses,
His eye like a cherry;
A scar drew his mouth
To one side like a bow,
And the foam on his chin
Was as white as the snow.
The gold of the dentist
Was bright in his teeth,
And a derby encircled
His head like a wreath.
He laid down his burden
To draw forth a sample,
And snapped off the cap
With a thumb that was ample.
He was cheerful and prompt--
An expensive young begger--
And we laughed when we saw him--
Our Christmas Bootlegger!
A wink of his eye,
And a twist of his head,
Soon gave us to know
We had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word,
But went straight to his work,
And filled all the glasses;
Then turned with a jerk,
And, laying his finger
aside of his nose,
And giving a nod:
"Down the hatch! Here she goes!"
He sprang to the door,
To his men gave a whistle,
And away they all went
Like the down of a thistle;
But I heard him exclaim
'Ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to All,
And to All a good night!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Got a funny joke? Have it featured in Comedy Bytes! Joke Of The
Day and on Comedy Bytes! World Wide Web site. Visit Comedy
Bytes! or send your joke to:
Comedy Bytes! Joke Of The Day location on the Web is:
http://www.netcore.ca/~gkillops/
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Subject: Merry X-Mas NASCAR Style!
From: asaf...@aol.com (ASA Fan33)
Date: 1997/12/09
Message-ID: <19971209054...@ladder01.news.aol.com>
Newsgroups: rec.autos.sport.nascar
[More Headers]
[View as HTML]
From the Desk of Mark Lehman
ASAF...@aol.com
'Twas the night before Christmas; we were all in the den
With stacks of blank tapes waiting for ESPN
To begin their long-promised NASCAR race binge.
"I should've played Santa", I thought with a twinge
"For the kids, while they're little; Dad did it for me".
When a gawdawful roar drowned out the TV.
I ran to the window and my eyes opened wide
As a black Chevy sleigh with a "3" on its side
Streaked down the driveway and over the lawn
Smoking and sparking, with one fender gone.
It steamed and it rumbled, seemed ready to stall
And six or eight elves came over my wall.
They jacked up the sleigh, the right runner came off,
When the engine fell silent with one last deep cough.
Four dove under the hood; I saw eight tiny feet
While the driver, disgusted, sat low in his seat.
The one elf came 'round to the side and said "S**t!
The oil cooler's busted. What'd you hit?"
The driver said nothing; the elf hurried away.
Then the driver unbuckled and climbed from the sleigh.
He threw down his helmet in the snow with a smack
Then pulled a big bag from out of the back,
Squinted down through his shades at a list that he had.
Then growled up at me, though he didn't sound mad,
"Y'all got three kids here? Dick, Sarah and Kyle?
Them elves'll be busy. We'll be here a while."
I was still kind of shocked, but I opened the door,
and he clumped up the steps and across the hall floor.
The kids gathered round, their mouths open in awe
While he rubbed his mustache and sized up what he saw
Then he pulled out a die-cast and gave it to Kyle
The "44" hot Wheels brought out a big smile.
Dick got a turquoise Ford marked "Hellig-Myers"
and grinned up at the driver and played with the tires.
Then the driver looked down and nodded his head,
And reached in the bag and to Sarah he said,
"All the girls wanted this one" and handed her "5".
Sarah just stared, and I came alive
And said "Thank the man, Sarah"; she looked at the floor
Then said "Terry's OK, but I want '24'".
Though just for a moment his shoulders did sag,
He quickly recovered and reached in his bag
For a rainbow-striped Chevy then leaned down and whis-
pered "The kid ain't all bad". She gave him a kiss.
He turned for the door, then quickly looked back,
And pulled one more die-cast out of his sack.
He gave it to me and did it look great -
A black Thunderbird, with a red "28".
Tears came to my eyes and the numbers got wavy;
I sure like the car, but I wish it said "Davey".
Then an elf stuck his head in the door and said "Go!".
The driver dashed out and ran through the snow.
He buckled back in and pulled in his sack
Then the elves dropped the sleigh down off of the jack.
I leaned out the door, shouting over the din
"Where do you go from here?" He gave me a grin
And called as the sleigh sailed up over the gate
"I'm winning Daytona, then I'm going for eight".
Let me know what ya think of it!
Mark L.
<a href mailto:asaf...@aol.com>asaf...@aol.com</a>
<a href=http://members.aol.com/asafan33>http://members.aol.com/asafan33</a>
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Date: 3-DEC-1996 13:52:10.40
Subj: T'was the night before exams (fwd)
THE NIGHT BEFORE FINALS
=======================
'Twas the night before finals,
And all through the college,
The students were praying
For last minute knowledge.
Most were quite sleepy,
But none touched their beds,
While visions of essays
Danced in their heads.
Out in the taverns,
A few were still drinking,
And hoping that liquor
Would loosen their thinking.
In my own room,
I had been a-pacing,
And dreading exams
I soon would be facing.
My roommate was speechless,
Her nose in her books,
And my comments to her
Drew some unfriendly looks.
I drained all the coffee,
And brewed a new pot,
No longer caring
That my nerves were all shot.
I stared at my notes,
But my thoughts were muddy,
My eyes went ablur,
I just could not study.
"Some pizza might help,"
I said with a shiver,
But each place I called
Refused to deliver.
I'd nearly concluded
That life was too cruel,
With futures depending
On grades earned in school.
When all of a sudden,
Our door opened wide,
And Patron Saint Put-It-Off
Ambled inside.
His spirit was careless,
His manner was mellow,
Then all of a sudden,
He started to bellow.
"On Cliff notes,
On Crib sheets,
And Last Year's Exams.
On Wing-it,
On Sling-it,
And Last Minute Crams."
His message delivered
He vanished from sight.
But we heard him laughing
Outside in the night.
Your teachers have pegged you
So just do your best.
Happy Finals to All
And to all a Good Test.
--Author Unknown
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******************************************************************************
Be sure to visit LaughWEB (http://www.misty.com/laughweb/)
******************************************************************************
*File Description: A Final Visit From Saint Nick*
A Final Visit From Saint Nicholas
_________________________________
'Twas the night before Christmas and one thing was clear--
that old Yuletide spirit no longer was here
inflation was rising; the crime rate was tripling;
the fuel bills were up, and our mortgage was crippling;
I opened a beer as I watched TV,
where Donny sang "O Holy Night" to Marie;
the kids were in bed, getting sleep like they should;
or else they were stoned, which was almost as good.
While Ma with her ball-point was making a fuss
'bout folks we'd send cards to who'd sent none to us;
"Those ingrates," she thundered, and pounded her fist;
"Next year you can bet they'll be crossed off our list!"
When out in the yard came a deafening blare;
'twas our burgler alarm, and I hollered, "Who's there?"
I turned on the searchlight, which lit up the night,
and, armed with my handgun, beheld a strange sight.
Some red-suited clown with a white beard immense
was caught in our eight foot electrified fence;
he called out, "I'm Santa! I bring you no malice!"
Said I, "if you're Santa, I'm Telly Savalas!"
But, lo, as his pressence grew clear to me,
I saw in the glare that it just might be he!
called off our doberman clawing his sleigh
and, frisking him twice, said, "I think he's ok."
I led him inside where he slumped in a chair,
and he poured out the following tale of dispair;
"On Christmas eves past I was jolly and chuckling,
but now 'neath the pressures, I fear I am buckling."
"You'll note I've arrived with no reindeer this year,
and without them, my sleigh is much harder to steer;
although I would like to continue to use them,
the wildlife officials believe I abuse them."
"To add to my problem, Ralph Nader dropped by
and told me my sleigh was unsafe in the sky;
I now must wear seatbelts, despite my objections,
and bring in the sleigh twice a year for inspections."
"Last April my workers came forth with demands,
and I soon had a general strike on my hands;
I couldn't afford to pay unionized elves,
so the missus and I did the work ourselves."
"And then, later on, came additional trouble--
an avalanche left my fine workshop in rubble;
my Allstate insurance was worthless, because
they had shrewdly slipped in a 'no avalanche' clause."
"And after that came an I.R.S audit;
the government claimed I was out to defraud it;
they finally nailed me for 65 grand,
which I paid through the sale of my house and my land."
"And yet I persist, though it gives me a scare
flying blind through the blanket of smog in the air;
not to mention the hunters who fill me with dread,
taking shots at my sleigh as I pass overhead."
"My torn-up red suit, and these bruises and swellings,
I got fighting muggers in multiple dwellings.
And if you should ask why I'm glowing tonight,
it's from flying too close to a nuclear site."
He rose from his chair and he heaved a great sigh,
and I couldn't help notice a tear in his eye;
"I've tried," he declared, "to reverse each defeat,
but I fear that today I've become obsolete."
He slumped out the door and returned to his sleigh,
and these last words he spoke as he went on his way;
"no longer can I do the job that's required;
if anyone asks, just say, 'Santa's retired!'".
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From: IN%"Fra...@ThePentagon.com" "Frasier" 19-DEC-1996 18:29:46.39
To:
CC:
Subj: A Visit from St. Sigmund
"A Visit from St. Sigmund" by X.J. Kennedy
T'was the night before Christmas, when all through each kid
Not an Ego was stirring, not even an Id.
The hangups were hung by the chimney with care
In hopes that St. Sigmund Freud soon would be there.
The children in scream class had knocked off their screams,
Letting Jungian archetypes dance through their dreams,
And Mamma with her bra off and I on her lap
Had just snuggled down when a vast thunderclap
Boomed up from my unconcious arose such a clatter
As Baptist John's teeth made on Salome's platter.
Away from my darling I flew like a flash,
Tore straight to the bathroom and threw up, and -- smash!
Through the windowpane hurtled and bounced on the floor
A big brick -- holy smoke, it was hard to ignore.
As I heard further thunderclaps --lo and behold--
Came a little psychiatrist eighty years old.
He drove a wheeled couch pulled by five fat psychoses
And the gleam in his eye might induce a hypnosis.
Like subliminal meanings his coursers they came
And, consulting his notebook, he called them by name:
"Now Schizo, now Fetish, now Fear of Castration!
On Paranoia! on Penis-fixation!
Ach, yes, that big brick through your glass I should mention:
Just a simple device to compel your attention.
You need, boy, to be in an analyst's power:
You talk, I take notes -- fifty schillings an hour."
A bag full of symbols he'd slung on his back;
He looked smug as a junk-peddler laden with smack
Or a shrewd politician soliciting votes
And his chinbeard was stiff as a starched billygoat's.
Then laying one finger aside of his nose,
He chotled, "What means this? Mein Gott, I suppose
There's a meaning in fingers, in candles, und wicks,
In mouseholes und doughnut holes, steeples und sticks.
You see, it's the imminent prospect of sex
That makes all us humans run 'round till we're wrecks,
Und each innocent infant since people began
Wants to bed with his momma und kill his old man;
So never you fear that you're sick as a swine --
Your hangups are every sane person's und mine.
Even Hamlet was hot for his mom -- there's the rub;
Even Oedipus Clubfoot was one of the club.
Hmmm, that's humor unconcious." He gave me rib pokes
And for almost two hours explained phallic jokes.
Then he sprang to his couch, to his crew gave a nod,
And away they all flew like the concept of God.
In the worst of my dreams I can hear him shout still,
"Merry Christmas to all! In the mail comes my bill."
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
Dr. Frasier Crane's Institute of Relationshipology
http://www.geocities.com/broadway/2945
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Subject: JOKE-RATED:20th CENTURY CHRISTMAS
From: RAINYbow <we...@COMMUNIQUE.NET>
Date: 1997/12/08
Message-ID: <348BB1B9...@communique.net>
Newsgroups: mpc.lists.misc.giggles
[More Headers]
X-Mas in the 20th Century
'Twas the night before Christmas -- the very last one
when the blazing of lasers destroyed all of our fun.
Just as Santa had lifted of, driving his sleigh,
A satellite spotted him making his way.
The Star Wars Defence System -- Reagan's desire
Was ready for action, and started to fire.
The laser beams criss-crossed and lit up the sky
Like a fireworks show on the Fourth of July.
I'd just finished wrapping the last of the toys
When out of my chimney there came a great noise.
I looked to the fireplace, hoping to see
St. Nick bringing presents for Missus and me.
But what I was next was disturbing and shocking
A flaming red jacket setting fire to my stocking.
Charred reindeer remains and a melted sleigh-bell
Outside burning toys like confetti they fell.
So now you know, children, why Christmas is gone
The Star Wars computer had got something wrong.
Only programmed for battle, it hadn't a hear
'Twas hardly a chance it would work from the start.
I couldn't be tested, and no one could tell
If the crazy contraption would work very well.
So after a trillion or two had been spent
The system thought Santa a Red missile sent.
So kids dry you tears now, and get off to bed
There won't be a Christmas -- since Santa is dead.
bummer
--
:-] RAINY ;-]
http://members.wbs.net/homepages/r/a/i/rainybow.html
GORT~~~ KLAATU BARADA NIKTO
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Subject: COMPUTER WET DREAMS
From: "Wayne Roesel" <fa...@nr.infi.net>
Date: 1997/12/06
Message-ID: <66d4ab$2dp$1...@nw001.infi.net>
Newsgroups: alt.binaries.pictures.erotica.gaymen
[More Headers]
Twas the night before Christmas and all alone I sat,
so I turned on the computer for some on-line chat!
Into a room I entered quite caustiously,
when all of a sudden, someone I.M.'D me.
He described himself and sounded like a real cutie
But I didn't want to sound trollish or all tricky.
So I asked the boy "do you have a lover?"
And when he said no-------I invited him right over!!!
I washed my face and combed my hair
threw open my closet-"god, what should I wear!"
And then came a knock---I opened the door.
I asked him to step in so I could see him more.
Then with amazement and great surprise
stood antonio sabato right before my eyes!
This can't be real! I must be dreamin'!
There I stood with my boner, lawd, iwas creamin'!!!!!
He smiled and reached out. Boy, I was ready.
His grip was firm and hands-very steady!
It took just a moment---it didn't last long.
Then with a smile and a wink, antonio was gone.
But I really can't bitch, no need to complain.
Now if I can only remember the man's screen name.hmmmmm?
Anonymous
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Twas the night before christmas and all through the house
clothes were strown all around and all about.
A pair of shorts and some boxers I could see
and something else which-dare I say?-resembled a tree.
No branches were found, it appeared quite smooth
excluding some veins which appeared where it grooved.
Standing so tall, I admired it's girth
it's weight in gold couldn't measure it's worth!
As I grew closer, I shook with desire!
To mount this tree would surely ignite my fire!
I strained and I huffed as I sat on this tree.
I felt as if something would rupture inside of me.
With each stroke brought discomfort, but as time wore on
I found the pain I had felt was completely gone.
My nuts, they rose! My teeth did chatter!
I put a sock in my mouth so the bastards wouldn't shatter!
I grabbed my cock 'cause something went crazy!
This tree I had sat on had become all sick and lazy.
I jumped off of it as quick as I could,
but it was too late.it did no good.
It laid there all flaccid in a pool of wet mess
so I stroked myself while it took a little rest.
And wouldn't you know it, just as I gave the final stroke
that log started to rise and quickly awoke!
But I was too far gone-there was no turning back.
My head thrashed about-I had an attack!
So I laid there next to the log, now a tree.
I looked up at it, and it down on me.
"Wow!!!", I said with detectable delight.
"It's been a good day and one hell of a good night!"
Anonymous
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'Twas the night before Christmas,
When all through the land,
Nothing was moving,
Except Kevin's hand on his gland.
His nuts were a hanging, and he was stroking with care,
His body was writhing, and his butt was all bare.
His blow up sex slaves were bent over beds,
while KY Jelly tubes danced through his head.
He beat it and beat it and came really quick,
"Go to sleep now," he said to his dick.
It stood at attention, and would not lie down,
Obviously, without doubt, the most rigid around.
When out on the porch, there arose such a clatter,
Kev got off his knees, to see what was the matter.
He threw on his boxers and wiped off his hand,
He looked out the window, and so did his gland.
With the moon in the sky, and a bitter cold chill,
His penis peeked out, and laid on the sill.
When, what to his three eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and nine tiny reindeer.
With a well hung driver, so long, and so thick,
He knew in an instant it must be St. Dick.
Quicker than Kevin, this well hung man came,
He shot off his load and called out some names!
"Go, Chrissy! Go, Andy! Go Jackie and Bob!"
"Oh, Missy! Oh, Candy! You can suck on my knob!
Now, Chico and Rico and Paul don't despair,
When we get back home, I'll take care of you there!"
As they bound towards Kev's home, while up in the sky,
He gave them a stroke and a shot from one eye.
So up to the housetop the reindeer they flew,
With a sleigh full of sex toys and St. Dick, too!
And then in a second, he heard on the roof
The reindeer conversing and a low gentle "poof".
His eyes how they twinkled! His palms were all hairy!
His cock looked like sausage and was red as a cherry!
His cute little mouth, it seemed just to glow,
His rock hard erection, as tight as a bow.
He pulled out his stump and lubed Kevin up,
He rammed it on in, Kevin squealed like a pup!
He gave him one stroke, two strokes, three strokes, four.
Kevin screamed to St. Dick, "Please give me some more!!!"
Kev was twitching and twisting and all full of joy,
St. Dick said, "You've done this before, I can see that now, boy!"
St. Dick pulled out and came on Kev's back,
He wiped off his dick, and grabbed for his pack.
He said "Kev, I like how you quiver and quirk,
But off I must go, as I still have to work."
And laying a finger aside of his nose,
And grabbing his rod, up the chimney he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh with a clink and a clang,
"Let's go now, I've got more butts to bang!"
But Kev heard him proclaim as he drove out of sight,
"I'll be back next week, and
I'll fuck you all night!"
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Subject: A GENEALOGIST'S CHRISTMAS EVE
From: "Molan, Gary" <GMo...@avint10.avionics.itt.com>
Date: 1997/12/03
Message-ID: <452EB793D51CD111B19...@avint4.avionics.itt.com>
Newsgroups: soc.genealogy.german
[More Headers]
A GENEALOGIST'S CHRISTMAS EVE
(Author Unknown)
(with apologies to Clement C. Moore)
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even my spouse.
The dining room table with clutter was spread
With pedigree charts and with letter which said...
"Too bad about the data for which you wrote...
Sand in a storm on an ill-fated boat."
Stack of old copies of wills and the such,
Were proof that my work had become much to much.
Our children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While vision of sugar plums danced in their heads.
And I, at my table, was ready to drop
>From work on my album with photos to crop.
Christmas Eve was here, and of such was my lot,
That presents and goodies and toys I'd forgot.
Had I not been so busy, with grandparents' wills,
I'd not have forgotten to shop for such thrills.
While others had bought gifts that would bring Christmas cheer,
I'd spent time researching those birth dates and years.
While I was thus musing about my sad plight,
A strange noise on the lawn gave me such a great fright.
Away to the window I flew in a flash,
Tore open the drapes and yanked up on the sash.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But an overstuffed sleigh and eight little reindeer.
With a sleigh full of toys and ole Santa Claus too.
And then in twinkle, I heard on the roof,
The prancing and pawing of thirty-two hoofs.
The TV Antenna was no match for their horns,
And look at our roof, with hoof-prints adorned.
As I drew in my head and bumped it on the sash,
Down the cold chimney fell Santa---CR-RASH!
Dear Santa had come from the roof in a wreck,
And tracked soot on the carpet (I could wring his short neck!)
Spotting my face, good old Santa could see,
I had no Christmas spirit, you'd have to agree.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings. (I felt like a jerk.)
Here was Santa, who'd brought us such gladness and joy,
When I'd been too busy for even one toy.
He spied my research on the table all spread,
"A genealogist!" he cried. (My face was all red.)
Tonight I've met many like you, Santa grinned.
As he pulled from his sack a large book he had penned.
I gazed with amazement--the cover it read,
"Genealogy Lines for which you have plead."
"I know what it's like as a genealogy bug."
He said as he gave me a great Santa hug.
While the elves make the sleighful of toys I now carry,
I do some research in the North Pole Library.
A special treat, I am thus able to bring,
To the genealogy folks who can't find a thing."
Now off you go to your bed for a rest.
I'll clean up the house from this genealoagy mess.
As I climed up the stairs feeling gladness and glee,
I looked back at Santa, who'd brought much to me.
While settling in bed I heard Santa's clear whistle,
To his team which then rose like the down of a thistle.
And I heard him exclaim as he flew out of sight,
"Family History is Fun!,
Merry Christmas!
Goodnight!"
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Date: 17-DEC-1996 23:27:17.24
Subj: Dot Leetle Fur Cap
DOT LEETLE FUR CAP
Der next night vas Christmas
Der night vas shtill,
Der stockings ver hung
By der chimney to fill.
Nodding vas shteurrig
At all in der house,
For fear dat St Nicholas
Vas nix kom heraus.
Der shildren ver tired
Und gone to der bed;
Und Mudder in night gown
Und I on ahead.
Vas searching around
In der trunk for der toys,
Ve krept around kviet
To not make a noise
Now Mudder vas carring
Der toys in her gown,
Showink her person
From her waist on down.
Ven as ve kun near
Der crib of our poy,
Our jungest und sveetest,
Our pride und our choy.
His eyes open vide
As he peeked from his cot,
Und he seen evertink
Dot his Mudder has got.
But he didn't take notice
Der toys in her lap;
He chust asked, "For Who
is that leetle fur cap?"
Und Mudder said "Hush"
Und she laughted mit delight,
"I tink I give dot
To your Poppa Tonight."
****************************************************************
****************************************************************
Government Shutdown
"Twas the week before Christmas and those sly little elves,
Our congressmen, labored to better themselves.
They cared not a whit what the public might think
"Let them eat cake," some said with a wink.
And putting their thumbs to the tip of their nose,
they waved as they shouted "Anything goes!"
They scoffed at the thought that we might object,
to a tax cut for the wealthy of a posh percent.
They've got prerequisites-franking, per diem, and more --
bargain-priced haircuts and gyms (three of four!)
Paid speaking engagements and meals on the cuff,
celebrity status - (they've sure got it tough!),
Yet they claim they're in touch with the man on the street,
as John Q. Public struggles to make both ends meet.
If all workers decided what they were due,
they'd be getting those fat paychecks too!
But while we take cutbacks or raises quite small,
and one out of 20 has no job at all,
our millionaire Congress decides on the budget
land trimming Medicare and Medicaid will do it, they say.
In this season for giving, our Congress is taking.
We've had it with them and our backs are breaking.
With hard times, disasters, and layoffs on our dockets,
we bit the bullet and they fill their pockets!
Oh jobless, oh homeless, oh desperate and needy -
dare anyone say our Congress is greedy?
If in this feeling I'm not alone,
take up your pen or pick up your phone.
As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly,
let the road of your anger mount to the sky.
Indignant, outraged, appalled and beset
let your congressman know that you won't forget!@
When election times comes - and certain it will -
you're voting him out for passing that bill.
More rapid than eagles, their elections assured
they toasted each other and laughed at the herd.
And I heard them exclaim with adjournment at hand,
"Merry Christmas to us, and the public (and Federal workers) be
damned!
****************************************************************
****************************************************************
MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM GUAM
Tis the night before Christmas
and Santa's relaxed.
Guam's surf is up--
Santa's surf board is waxed.
The Zories are hung
by the Aircon with care,
And the Kiddies all know
Santa soon will be there.
Once the tide goes out,
and he's through "hangin' ten"
He'll stop to see Barbara,
and Charlie, and Ben.
A snack's been prepared
by Becky and Sam.
It's that old island favorite:
Tortillas and Spam.
After giving out presents,
for his surfboard he'll reach.
Santa's parting remark will be
"Back to the Beach!"
He'll join all those tourists
who visit for fun.
When it comes to vacations,
he says, "Guam's number one!"
And you'll hear him exclaim
'ere he boogies away:
Merry Christmas to all,
And to all, "Hafa Adai!"
****************************************************************
****************************************************************
Subject: Christmas with the Greaseman
From: the2...@defl.bungmunch.edu (The 2-Belo (Meow))
Date: 1997/12/09
Message-ID: <3495a091...@decaxp.HARVARD.EDU>
Newsgroups: alt.fan.karl-malden.nose,alt.butt.harp,alt.bite-me,alt.non.sequit
ur
[More Headers]
(c) The Greaseman
Welcome to Blasterpiece Theatre, with your host, Sylvester Stallone.
'Twas the night before Christmas
and all tru da house,
Nuttin' was stirrin',
Not even a fuckin' mouse.
Adrian was....talkin',
Wearin' her cap.
I said, "'ay,
Shut yer yap."
Gotta move,
and I gotta move quick.
'Cause tonight I'm gonna blow away
Ol' Saint Nick.
Last year, I said 'Hey!
Bring a new weight set to try!'
Instead, he left
This polka-dot tie.
So as I sit
By the nativity scene,
I lock and I load
My mini-14.
What's that? Footsteps?
Reindeer, I hear?
I'll soon be pumpin' lead
Into Santa's big rear.
My finger's on the trigger,
I'm ready to go
At da sound o'dat first
Ho-ho-ho-ho.
He's in my chimney!
He starts to slide down!
Lemme reach in
And let off a few rounds!
[POW! POW! POW!]
[AAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGH!!!!!!!!]
My gun, it did quiver
With lead, it did chatter.
Across my lawn, reindeer guts
I did splatter.
Kill Dasher, Kill Dancer,
Kill Prancer and Vixen!
My barrel's so hot,
I'm doin' some schvitzin'.
So this Christmastime,
You better fend for yourselves.
I've blown away Santa,
Now it's on to the elves.
|=[The 2-Belo]=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-[the2belo at alt dot net]=|
| [flame/nose/cascade/meow/non.sequitur/alt.life.sucks] |HFW:
| [CASHP #32-97. Stop the human race!] |Died
| HP: http://www.geocities.com/colosseum/stadium/7560 |Nov. 21, 1997
|PGP pubkey: http://www.geocities.com/colosseum/stadium/7560/pubkey.txt |Rot In Purgatory
|=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=|
****************************************************************
****************************************************************
Date: 31-OCT-1996 11:51:21.47
Subj: Oracle's Nightmare Halloween Bash
'Twas HALLOWEEN!
'Twas Halloween night as I leaped from my bed,
With thoughts of amusement going through my head.
Turned off my computer and thought as I may
Of vampires of old and vampires of today.
Of spooky old movies and Halloween parties,
Of course trick or treating
(hope they don't hand out Smarties).
And witches and ghosts and gravediggers, I fear,
So that old haunted house, I will never go near.
When you see spooky places, just take my advice,
And don't go in rooms filled with ghosts, bats, and mice.
So don't risk your life going looking for spooks,
Just go to a party with some good friendly kooks.
Or gather your family, carve a pumpkin and think
What to have your kids do, and go pick up a drink.
Tell a joke to your friends, but be careful, you'll see
That a couple wrong moves might mean eternity.
Now put on that costume and dress yourself up.
You can be Ninja Nun or that RCA Pup.
But be very careful or else you might see
That ghosts and vampires aren't really PC.
So now you can think, as you turn out that light
That there's no such thing and that you are all right.
Look under your bed, though, and then you might see...
Nothing! We aren't afraid of ghosts now, are we?
-------
Happy Halloween from the Oracle Service Humor Archives!
Happy hauntings,
-Steve
_
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/ o o \
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||-v-v-|| (o o) THE ORACLE SERVICE HUMOR MAILING LIST
~~\ \^_^/ /~~~oOOo~(_)~oOOo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
-------
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send a message with only the word
SUBSCRIBE in the body (not the
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****************************************************************
****************************************************************
Subject: A Ham's Night Before Christmas
From: kn4aq.no....@mms.net (Gary Pearce)
Date: 1997/11/28
Message-ID: <3481211e...@NEWS1.MMS.NET>
Newsgroups: triangle.radio
[More Headers]
A Ham's Night Before Christmas
(Yet another corruption of Clement Clarke Moore's
classic Christmas tale, this time distorted by
Gary Pearce KN4AQ, and the Raleigh Amateur
Radio Society, Raleigh, NC, December 2, 1996.)
Twas the night before Christmas,
And all through two-meters,
Not a signal was keying up
Any repeaters.
The antennas reached up
>From the tower, quite high,
To catch the weak signals
That bounced from the sky.
The children, Tech-Pluses,
Took their HT's to bed,
And dreamed of the day
They'd be Extras, instead.
Mom put on her headphones,
I plugged in the key,
And we tuned 40 meters
For that rare ZK3.
When the meter was pegged
by a signal with power.
It smoked a small diode,
and, I swear, shook the tower.
Mom yanked off her phones,
And with all she could muster
Logged a spot of the signal
On the DX PacketCluster,
While I ran to the window
And peered up at the sky,
To see what could generate
RF that high.
It was way in the distance,
But the moon made it gleam -
A flying sleigh, with an
Eight element beam,
And a little old driver
who looked slightly mean.
So I though for a moment,
That it might be Wayne Green.
But no, it was Santa
The Santa of Hams.
On a mission, this Christmas
To clean up the bands.
He circled the tower,
Then stopped in his track,
And he slid down the coax
Right into the shack.
While Mom and I hid
Behind stacks of CQ,
This Santa of hamming
Knew just what to do.
He cleared off the shack desk
Of paper and parts,
And filled out all my late QSLs
For a start.
He ran copper braid,
Took a steel rod and pounded
It into the earth, till
The station was grounded.
He tightened loose fittings,
Resoldered connections,
Cranked down modulation,
Installed lightning protection.
He neutralized tubes
In my linear amp...
(Never worked right before --
Now it works like a champ).
A new, low-pass filter
Cleaned up the TV,
He corrected the settings
In my TNC.
He repaired the computer
That would not compute,
And he backed up the hard drive
And got it to boot.
Then, he reached really deep
In the bag that he brought,
And he pulled out a big box,
"A new rig?" I thought!
"A new Kenwood? An Icom?
A Yaesu, for me?!"
(If he thought I'd been bad
it might be QRP!)
Yes! The Ultimate Station!
How could I deserve this?
Could it be all those hours
that I worked Public Service?
He hooked it all up
And in record time, quickly
Worked 100 countries,
All down on 160.
I should have been happy,
It was my call he sent,
But the cards and the postage
Will cost two month's rent!
He made final adjustments,
And left a card by the key:
"To Gary, from Santa Claus.
Seventy-Three."
Then he grabbed his HT,
Looked me straight in the eye,
Punched a code on the pad,
And was gone - no good bye.
I ran back to the station,
And the pile-up was big,
But a card from St. Nick
Would be worth my new rig.
Oh, too late, for his final
came over the air.
It was copied all over.
It was heard everywhere.
The Ham's Santa exclaimed
What a ham might expect,
"Merry Christmas to all,
And to all, good DX."
1996 Gary Pearce KN4AQ
Permission granted for any print
or electronic reproduction.
kn4aq...@mms.net
_________________________________________________________________
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Subject: The Nights Before Christmas [Archive]
From: j...@NOSPAMcyberjunkie.com (JRF)
Date: 1997/12/07
Message-ID: <66f02l$2hu$1...@hirame.wwa.com>
Newsgroups: alt.humor,alt.jokes,alt.tasteless.jokes,rec.humor
[More Headers]
- The Night Before Chreemas, Man -
(Aka The Mexican Version)
The night before Chreemas, on Thorsday I theenk,
I go to cantina to geet me a dreenk.
I dreenk saam tequila, I dreenk eet too fast,
Preety damn queek, I fall on my ass.
I peek myself up and go home to bed,
I pool the cobija up ober my head.
Early next morning, or late een the night,
I heer such damn recket, I theenk eet's a fight.
I geet outta bed, I don feel very well,
My head ees too beeg, eet hort me like hell.
I go to the weendow, I don believe what I see,
A pot-bellied greengo, as plain as can be.
I looook at heez ropa, ees all colored red,
He got heem some chivos tied on to a sled.
I yella and I holler, "Hey, move your fat ass,
Your chivos--they chit on my grass!"
He torn to heez goats, he say just one word,
And them damn chivos chomp in the air like a bord.
They corcle around, and then queek as a mouse,
He land that damn sled on top of my house.
They chaking their horns and stomping hees hoof,
I theenk they damn chore play hell with my roof.
I heer theze ole man chout loud and clear,
"What the hell, Rodriquez, ain't no cheemney up here...
No door, no weendow, nothing but air,
How I gon geev you theze goverment welfare?"
Then right away theze Rodriquez see---
He gon get heemself something for free.
So he says to the greengo, "Please come een senior,
Do come on down and use the front door."
So, he come een the house, and upon heez broad back,
He is carry one hell of beeg gony sack.
He puut theze beeg sack down on the floor,
And start pooling out comida galore.
He pool out tortillas, tamales and ham,
He pool out a cheekin and haff of a lamb.
He pool out cervesa and a bottle of wine,
I cannot believe that theze eez all mine!
I'm theenking, "Rodriquez, you locky by heck,
Theze chore as hell beats unemployment sheck."
So he chakes out heez boles and dreenk some of my wine,
And cosses hees chivos to get them een line.
He cosses and hollers, he knows every one,
"Chingow, Cabron, Yo, Son of a gon."
That ole man he know how to puut on a chow,
Trying to make them damn chivos get up and go.
At last he get them to chom een the sky,
And the last time I see heem, he preety damn high.
He going away and the last theeng I heeer,
"IF YOU VOTE FOR THEM LIB'RALS, I BE BACK NEXT YEAR!"
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Subject: Home Brewer's Night Before Christmas
From: pa...@aa.net (Pat Anderson)
Date: 1997/12/07
Message-ID: <348aab57...@news.aa.net>
Newsgroups: rec.crafts.brewing
[More Headers]
Thought you would all enjoy this - apologies if it has been posted before, don't
know where it came from...
A Homebrewer's Night Before Christmas
'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house,
Every creature was thirsty, including the mouse...
The steins were empty, and the bottles were too
The beer had been drunk with no time to brew.
My family was nestled all snug in their beds
While visions of Christmas Ale foamed in their heads.
Mama in her kerchief lamented the drought,
She craved a pilsner and I, a stout.
When out on the lawn, there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the kitchen, I flew like a flash,
Opening the door with a loud bang and crash!
I threw on the switch and the lights, all aglow,
Gave a luster of mid-day to the brew-pot below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear
But Gambrinus himself, the patron of beer.
With a look in his eye, so lively and quick,
He said, "You want beer? Well, here, take your pick."
More rapid than eagles, his recipes came
As he whistled and shouted and called them by name.
"Now, Pilsener! Now, Porter! Now, Stout and Now Maerzen!
On, Bitter! On, Lager! On, Bock and On Weizen!"
"To the top of the bottles, the short and the tall,
Now brew away, brew away, and fill them all!"
As dried hops before a wild hurricane fly,
And then, without warning, settle down with a sigh,
So towards the brew-pot, the ingredients flew,
Malt extract, roasted barley and crystal malt, too.
And then in a twinkling, I heard it quite plain,
The cracking open of each barley grain.
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
Into the kitchen, he came with a bound.
He was dressed like a knight, from his head to his toes,
With an old family crest adorning his clothes.
A bundle of hops, he had flung on his back,
And the brewing began when he opened his pack.
His hops were so fragrant! His barley, how sweet!
The adjuncts included Munich malt and some wheat.
The malted barley was mashed in the tun,
Then boiled with hops in the brew-pot 'till done.
Excitement had me gnashing my teeth,
As the sweet smell encircled my head like a wreath.
Beer yeast was pitched, both lager and ale,
The wort quickly fermented, not once did it fail.
It was then krausened, or with sugar primed,
And just being bottled when midnight had chimed.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know, I'd be shortly in bed.
He spoke not a word but kept on with his work,
And capped all the bottles, then turned with a jerk.
And laying a finger alongside his nose,
He belched (quite a burp!) before he arose.
Clean-up was easy with only a whistle,
And away the mess flew, like the down on a thistle.
And I heard him exclaim, 'ere he left me the beer,
"Merry Christmas to all! and a HOPPY New Year!"
****************************************************************
****************************************************************
-- CHRISTMAS IN THE HOOD --
Twas da night befo' Christmas and all in the hood
Not a homie was stirring cuz it was all good
The tube socks was hung on the window sill
and we all had smiles up on our grill
Mookie and BeBe was snug in the crib
in the back bedroom cuz that's how we live
and moms in her do-rag and me with my nine
had just gotten busy cuz girlfriends is fine
All of a sudden a lowrider rolled by
Bumpin phat beats cuz the system's fly
I bounced to the window at a quarter pas'
Bout ready to pop a cap in somebody's ass!
I yelled to my lady, Yo peep this!
She said, Stop frontin just mind yo' bidness
I said, for real do, come check dis out
We weren't even buggin, no worries, no doubt
Cuz bumpin an thumpin' from around da way
Was Santa, 8 reindeer and a sleigh
Da beats was kickin, da ride was phat
I said, Yo Red Dawg, you all that!
He threw up a sign and yelled to his boyz,
"Ay yo, give it up, let's make some noise!"
To the top of the projects and across the strip mall,
We gots ta go, I got a booty call!"
He pulled up his ride on the top a da roof
and sippin on a 40, he busted a move
I yelled up to Santa, "Yo ain't got no stack!"
he said, "Damn homie, deese projects is wack!
But don't worry black, cuz I gots da skillz
I learnt back when I hadda pay da billz."
Out from his bag he pulled 3 small tings
a credit card, a knife, and a bobby pin
He slid down te fire escape smoove as a cat
and busted the wnidow with a b-ball bat
I said, "Whassup, Santa? Whydya bust my place?"
he said , "Ya best get on up outta my face!"
his threads was all leatha, his chains was all gold
His sneaks was Puma and they was 5 years old
Santa broke out da loot and my mouf popped open wide
A wink of his eye and a shine off his gold toof
he cabbage patched his way back onto the roof
He jumped in his hooptie with rims made of chrome
to tap that booty waitin at home
and all I heard as he cruised outta sight
was a loud and hearty......
"WEEESST SIIIIIDE!!!!!!!!!!"
****************************************************************
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--- THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS - Internet Style ---
A festive holiday poem
Hugh Drumm & Vincent Ambrose
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Net,
There were hacker's a surfing. Geeks? Yeah, you bet.
The e-mails were stacked by the modem with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
The newbies were nestled all snug by their screens,
While visions of Java danced in their dreams.
My wife on the sofa and me with a snack,
We just settled down at my rig (it's a Mac).
When out in the Web there arose such a clatter,
I jumped to the site to see what was the matter.
To a new page my Mac flew like a flash,
Then made a slight gurgle. It started to crash!!
I gasped at the thought and started to grouse,
Then turned my head sideways and clicked on my mouse.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
My Mac jumped to a page that wasn't quite clear.
When the image resolved, so bright and so quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick!
More rapid than mainframes, more graphics they came,
Then Nick glanced toward my screen,
my Mac called them by name;
"Now Compaq! Now Acer!", my speaker did reel;
"On Apple! On Gateway!" Santa started to squeal!
"Jump onto the circuits! And into the chip!
Now speed it up! Speed it up! Make this thing hip!"
The screen gave a flicker, he was into my RAM,
Then into my room rose a full hologram!
He was dressed in all red, from his head to his shoes,
Which were black (the white socks he really should lose).
He pulled out some discs he had stored in his backpack.
Santa looked like a dude who was rarin' to hack!
His eyes, how they twinkled! His glasses, how techno!
This ain't the same Santa that I used to know!
With a wink of his eye and a nod of his head,
Santa soon let me know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, gave my Mac a quick poke,
And accessed my C drive with only a stroke.
He defragged my hard drive, and added a SIMM,
Then threw in some cool games, just on a whim!
He worked without noise, his fingers they flew!
He distorted some pictures with Kai's Power Goo!
He updated Office, Excel and Quicken,
Then added a screensaver with a red clucking chicken!
My eyes widened a bit, my mouth stood agape,
As he added the latest version of Netscape.
The drive gave a whirl, as if it were pleased,
St. Nick coyly smiled, the computer appeased.
Then placing his finger on the bridge of his nose,
Santa turned into nothing but ones and zeros!
He flew back into my screen and through my uplink,
Back into the net with barely a blink.
But I heard his sweet voice as he flew from my sight,
"Happy surfing to all, and to all a good byte!"
****************************************************************
****************************************************************
From: IN%"Fra...@ThePentagon.com" "Frasier" 1-JAN-1997 11:21:43.60
To:
CC:
Subj: The Frasier Daily
"'Twas the Night Befo' Kwanzaa"
'Twas the night before Kwanzaa, and down in the hood,
All the homeys was hopin' the crack would be good
The workshoes were hung where they'd never be used
Since the welfare system is so much abused
With Kwase Mfume and Schmoke at the Hall
Waiting around for Bill Clinton to call
I in my workclothes sat back with a case
After ten hours of sweat it was time to get faced
After the tenth, I was totally waxed
And wondered aloud when will piss become taxed
When out on the porch arose such a clatter
I slipped as I zipped with a half-empty bladder
Then what to my wondering eyes did appear
But a fat old black man - gold ring in his ear
He said, "I'm Father Kwanzaa and Santa is dead"
"So git yo' white ass on back to yo' bed!"
"For Farrakhan rules and Bill is our man,"
"So out o' yo' pockets, and into our hands!"
"Your money in taxes, empowerment grants,"
"You're lucky I don't take them baggy-assed pants!"
Then he ransacked my house, even took my last beer,
And said with a voice full of holiday cheer,
"Keep workin' those days, keep workin' those nights,"
"Happy Kwanzaa to all, DON'T IT SUCK TO BE WHITE!"
****************************************************************
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-- THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS, LEGALLY SPEAKING --
Whereas, on or about the night prior to Christmas, there did occur
at a certain improved piece of real property (hereinafter "the
House") a general lack of stirring by all creatures therein,
including, but not limited to a mouse.
A variety of foot apparel, e.g. stocking, socks, etc., had been
affixed by and around the chimney in said House in the hope
and/or belief that St. Nick a/k/a/ St. Nicholas a/k/a/ Santa Claus
(hereinafter "Claus") would arrive at sometime thereafter.
The minor residents, i.e. the children, of the aforementioned
House were located in their individual beds and were engaged in
nocturnal hallucinations, i.e. dreams, wherein vision of confectionery
treats, including, but not limited to, candies, nuts and/or
sugar plums, did dance, cavort and otherwise appear in said dreams.
Whereupon the party of the first part (sometimes hereinafter
referred to as "I"), being the joint-owner in fee simple of the
House with the parts of the second part (hereinafter "Mamma"), and
said Mamma had retired for a sustained period of sleep. (At such
time, the parties were clad in various forms of headgear, e.g.
kerchief and cap.)
Suddenly, and without prior notice or warning, there did occur
upon the unimproved real property adjacent and appurtent to
said House, i.e. the lawn, a certain disruption of unknown nature,
cause and/or circumstance. The party of the first part did
immediately rush to a window in the House to investigate the
cause of such disturbance.
At that time, the party of the first part did observe, with some
degree of wonder and/or disbelief, a miniature sleigh (hereinafter
"the Vehicle") being pulled and/or drawn very rapidly through the
air by approximately eight (8) reindeer. The driver of the Vehicle
appeared to be and in fact was, the previously referenced Claus.
Said Claus was providing specific direction, instruction and
guidance to the approximately eight (8) reindeer and specifically
indentified the animal co-conspirators by name: Dasher, Dancer,
Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner and Blitzen (hereinafter
"the Deer"). (Upon information and belief, it is further asserted that
an additional co-conspirator named "Rudolph"may have been involved.)
The party of the first part witnessed Claus, the Vehicle and the Deer
intentionally and willfully trespass upon the roofs of several
residences located adjacent to and in the vicinity of the House,
and noted that the Vehicle was heavily laden with packages, toys
and other items of unknown origin or nature. Suddenly, without prior
invitation or permission, either express or implied, the Vehicle
arrived at the House, and Claus entered said House via the chimney.
Said Claus was clad in a red fur suit, which was partially covered
with residue from the chimney, and he carried a large sack containing
a portion of the aforementioned packages, toys, and other unknown
items. He was smoking what appeared to be tobacco in a small pipe
in blatant violation of local ordinances and health regulations.
Claus did not speak, but immediately began to fill the stocking of
the minor children, which hung adjacent to the chimney, with toys
and other small gifts. (Said items did not, however, constitute
"gifts" to said minor pursuant to the applicable provisions of the
U.S. Tax Code.)
Upon completion of such task, Claus touched the side of his nose
and flew, rose and/or ascended up the chimney of the House
to the roof where the Vehicle and Deer waited and/or served as
"lookouts." Claus immediately departed for an unknown destination.
However, prior to the departure of the Vehicle, Deer and Claus from
said House, the party of the first part did hear Claus state
and/or exclaim: "Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!"
Or words to that effect.
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Herewith, the "MAXINE" (of Hallmark fame) version of the NIGHT BEFORE
CHRISTMAS. If I sent it to you last year...sorry about that, and if I did
not, I hope you get a chuckle or two from it! -- Judith
'Twas the night before Christmas
And all through the house...
Not a creature was stirring
since the cat ate the mouse.
My support hose were hung
By the chimney with care.
(I hung them last Christmas
And just left them there.)
My dog, Floyd, was nestled
All snug in his bed,
After watching the cat rip
The presents to shreds.
And I in my long johns
And ratty night cap
Had just settled my butt
For a long winter's nap.
When out on the lawn
There arose such a clatter,
I swore at the window,
"What the (blank) is the matter?"
I tore open the window,
Not a second to tarry,
All ready to throw
The noisemaker a berry.
A bright moon was lighting
The new-fallen snow...
And I had a moon of my own
Set to show.
Floyd was beside me,
Paw pointing the way
Toward eight tiny reindeer
Hitched up to a sleigh...
And a little old driver
So cheery and quick,
I thought for a moment
That I would be sick.
Like a bat out of...you know,
His reindeer they came,
And I whistled and shouted
And called them some names--
"Hey, Hornhead! Hey, Furface!
Hey, Weiner and Turkey!
Yo, Klutzy and Mangy
And Venison Jerky!
Stay off of my porch!
Get away from my wall!
Now hit the road, hit the road,
Hit the road, all!
But as pedestrians before
My old Buick , they fly
And head for high ground
With great fear in their eyes,
So up to my rooftop
The fleabags they flew,
With a sleigh full of toys
And old Fruitcake - Breath too.
And then, in a twinkling,
I heard on the roof
Holes in my new shingles
Made by each tiny hoof.
As I reached for my slingshot
And a marble as well,
Down the chimney Ssst. Nicholas
Tumbled and fell.
He had a huge sack of
Cheap junk on his back
And I whispered to Floyd,
"Be prepared to attack."
His eyes they were squinting,
His toy bag was draggin',
And I felt for a moment
Like I'd soon be gaggin'.
He was dressed all in red.
With a bell on his hat.
And a belt of black leather
To hold back the fat.
A billowing pipe
He clenched tight in his smile,
And the smell was like something
Had been dead for awhile.
He had a broad face
And a little round belly
That shook when I nailed him
With a handful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump,
Well, actually porky,
And I laughed when I tripped him
(He looked pretty dorky).
He was like a beached whale
Unable to budge.
And he tasted good , too,
If the dog was a judge.
I spoke not a word
But went straight to my work--
A noogie, a wedgie,
A cry of "You jerk!"
Until laying a finger
Aside of his nose,
With a loud cry of "Uncle!"
Up the chimney he rose.
He sprang to the sleigh
And dragged in the toys,
Then he cried to the reindeer,
"Get me out of here, Boys!"
And I had to exclaim
As a slushball I tossed,
"Happy Christmas to all,
And to all a Get Lost!"
But then, as I turned,
I saw 'neath the tree
Two gaily wrapped presents--
One for Floyd, one for me.
A big bag of jerky
Turned Floyd mighty chipper,
While for me was a pair
Of brand-new bunny slippers.
I looked out the window,
And hovering there,
Old Santa was winking
From his sleigh in midair...
"Merry Christmas, Maxine!"
He cried, full of cheer,
"Same to you, Pal!" I answered,
("I'll get you next year!")
THE END
****************************************************************
****************************************************************
---- A MICROSOFT CHRISTMAS ----
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, except Papa's mouse.
The computer was humming, the icons were hopping,
As Papa did last-minute Internet shopping.
The stockings were hung by the modem with care
In hope that St. Nicholas would bring new software.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of computer games danced in their heads.
PageMaker for Billy, and Quicken for Dan,
And Carmen Sandiego for Pamela Ann.
The letters to Santa had been sent out by Mom,
To santa...@toyshop.northpole.com -
Which has now been re-routed to Washington State
Because Santa's workshop has been bought by Bill Gates.
All the elves and reindeer have had to skedaddle
To flashy new quarters in suburban Seattle.
After centuries of a life that was simple and spare,
St. Nicholas is suddenly a new billionaire,
With a shiny red Porsche in the place of his sleigh,
And a house on Lake Washington that's just down the way
From where Bill has his mansion. The old fellow preens
In black Gucci boots and red Calvin Klein jeans.
The elves have stock options and desks with a view,
Where they write computer code for Johnny and Sue.
No more dolls or toy soldiers or little toy drums (ahem - pardon me)
No more dolls or tin soldiers or little toy drums
Will be under the tree, only compact disk ROMS
With the Microsoft label. So spin up your drive,
From now on Christmas runs only on Win95.
More rapid than eagles the competitors came,
And Bill whistled, and shouted, and called them by name.
"Now, ADOBE! now, CLARIS! now, INTUIT! too,
Now, APPLE! and NETSCAPE! you are all of you through,
It is Microsoft's SANTA that the kids can't resist,
It's the ultimate software with a traditional twist -
Recommended by no less than the jolly old elf,
And on the package, a picture of Santa himself.
Get 'em young, keep 'em long, is Microsoft's scheme,
And a merger with Santa is a marketer's dream.
To the top of the NASDAQ! to the top of the Dow!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away - wow!"
And Mama in her 'kerchief and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
The whir and the hum of our satellite platter,
As it turned toward that new Christmas star in the sky,
The SANTALITE owned by the Microsoft guy.
As I sprang from my bed and was turning around,
My computer turned on with a Jingle-Bells sound.
And there on the screen was a smiling Bill Gates
Next to jolly old Santa, two arm-in-arm mates.
And I heard them exclaim in voice so bright,
Have a MICROSOFT CHRISTMAS, and TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT.
****************************************************************
****************************************************************
TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS...
'Twas the night before Christmas, and 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 what manner of person 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 the mantle, just boots filled with sand,
And on the wall hung many pictures of far distant lands.
With medals and badges, and awards of all kinds,
Suddenly a thought so sobering came into my mind.
For this house was much different, it was so dark and dreary,
I was in the house of an Airman, once I could see clearly.
The Airman lay sleeping, silent, all alone;
curled upon the floor in this one bedroom home.
The face was so gentle, the room in such disorder,
Not exactly how I imagined I'd find an airman soldier.
Was this the hero of whom I'd just read?
Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?
I then realized the families I saw on this night,
owed their lives to these airmen who were willing to fight.
For soon 'round the world the children would play,
And grownups would celebrate a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed their freedom each month of the year,
because of the airman, like the one lying here.
I couldn't help wonder how many more lay alone,
on a cold Christmas Eve, in some land far from home.
The very thought brought a tear to my eye,
and I dropped to my knees and started to cry.
The Airman awakened and I heard a rough voice,
"Santa, don't cry, this life is my choice;
I fight for our freedom, I don't ask for more,
My life is my God, my country, my Air Force."
The Airman roiled over and drifted back to sleep,
But I couldn't control it, I started to weep.
I kept watch for hours, so silent and still
Until we both shivered hard from the cold night's chill.
I didn't want to leave on that cold, dark night
This Guardian of Honor so willing to fight.
Then the Airman rolled over, and with a voice soft and pure,
whispered, "Carry on, Santa, it's Christmas Day and all is secure."
One look at my watch and I knew he was right
Merry Christmas, my friend, and to all a Good Night!
-Author Unknown
_________________________________________________________________
****************************************************************
****************************************************************
--- THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS FOR MOMs ---
It was the night before Christmas, when all thru the abode
only one creature was stirring, and she was cleaning the commode.
The children were finally sleeping, all snug in their beds,
while visions of Nintendo 64 and Barbie, flipped through their heads.
The dad was snoring in front of the TV,
with a half-constructed bicycle on his knee.
So only the mom heard the reindeer hooves clatter,
which made her sigh, "Now what's the matter?"
With toilet bowl brush still clutched in her hand,
she descended the stairs, and saw the old man.
He was covered with ashes and soot, which fell with a shrug.
"Oh great," muttered the mom, "Now I have to clean the rug."
"Ho-ho-ho!" cried Santa, "I'm glad you're awake."
"Your gift was especially difficult to make."
"Thanks, Santa, but all I want is some time alone."
"Exactly!" he chuckled, "I've made you a clone."
"Exactly!" he chuckled, "I've made you a clone."
"A clone?" she asked, "What good is that?
Run along, Santa, I've no time for chit-chat."
The mother's twin. Same hair, same eyes,
same double chin. "She'll cook, she'll dust, "
she'll mop every mess. You'll relax, take it easy,
watch The Young & the Restless." "Fantastic!" the mom cheered.
"My dream come true! "I'll shop. I'll read., I'll sleep a whole night
through! "
From the room above, the youngest began to fret.
"Mommy?! I scared... and I 'm wet."
The clone replied, "I'm coming, sweetheart."
"Hey," the mom smiled, "She knows her part."
The clone changed the small one, and hummed a tune,
as she bundled the child, in a blanket cocoon.
"You the best mommy ever. " I really love you."
The clone smiled and sighed, "I love you, too."
The mom frowned and said, "Sorry, Santa, no deal. "
That's my child's love, she's trying to steal."
Smiling wisely Santa said, "To me it is clear, "
Only one loving mother, is needed here."
The mom kissed her child, and tucked her into bed.
"Thank you, Santa, " for clearing my head.
I sometimes forget, it won't be very long,
when they'll be too old, for my cradle-song."
The clock on the mantle began to chime.
Santa whispered to the clone, "It works every time."
With the clone by his side Santa said, "Goodnight.
Merry Christmas, Mom, You'll be all right."
****************************************************************
****************************************************************
Subject: Twas the Night Before Nationals
From: qua...@osu.edu (Erik Wynstra)
Date: 1997/11/12
Message-ID: <3469fe7...@nntp.service.ohio-state.edu>
Newsgroups: rec.arts.marching.band.high-school
[More Headers]
Here it is for the third year in a row.
Original post 11/10/95
Twas the night before Nationals
And all through the Dome,
Not a band geek was stirring
'Cause they were all home.
Their instruments were polished
And tuned with precision,
In hopes of making it
To the Finals decision.
The field crew was up
And loading the trucks,
While band boosters gathered
To offer good lucks.
The kids climbed aboard
And fell fast asleep
As their shows they ran through
In their dreams so deep.
I started up the bus
And with my tummy full of gin,
We headed without delay
To Indianapoils, IN
All of a sudden I heard
A "Ho, Ho!" from the sky
And was startled and amazed
As something flew by.
It was Scott McCormick
Atop a tuba he flew
And was pulled from the front
By the BOA Judging Crew!
He laughed and he chuckled
And he chortled with glee
and pulling him from the front
Was none other than Debbie Lafferty!
He winked in my direction
And placing a finger aside his nose,
His caravan shot forward
And to the clouds he rose!
He called out to us,
As he flew up, up, and away,
Good luck to all at Nationals!
And to all a good day!
Erik Wynstra
Westerville, Ohio
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****************************************************************
The Net Before Christmas
by
Jim Trudeau & Jay Trudeau (1991)
With apologies to Clement C. Moore
'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the nets
Not a mousie was stirring, not even the pets.
The floppies were stacked by the modem with care
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
The files were nestled all snug in a folder
The screen saver turned on, the weather was colder.
And leaving the keyboard along with my mouse
I turned from the screen to the rest of the house.
When up from the drive there arose such a clatter
I turned to the screen to see what was the matter.
Away to the mouse I flew like a flash,
Zoomed open a window in fear of a crash...
The glow from the screen on the keyboard below
Gave an electronic luster to all my macros.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear
But a little sleigh icon with eight tiny reindeer
And a tiny disk driver so SCSI and quick
I knew in a nano it must be Saint Nick.
More rapid than trackballs his cursors they came,
He whistled and shouted and faxed them by name.
"Now Flasher! Now Dasher! Now Raster and Bixel!
On Phosphor! On Photon! On Baudrate and Pixel!
To the top of the stack. To the top of the heap."
Then each little reindeer made a soft beep.
As data that before the wild electrons fly,
When they meet with a node, mount to the drive,
So up to the screentop the cursors they flew
With a sleigh full of disks and databits, too.
And then in a twinkling I heard the high whine
Of a modem connecting at a baud rate so fine.
As I gazed at the screen with a puzzling frown
St. Nicholas logged on though I thought I was down.
He was dressed all in bytes from header to footer
And the words on the screen said "Don't you reboot 'er."
A bundle of bits he had flung on his back
And he looked like a programmer starting his hack.
His eyes how they glazed, his hair was so scary,
His cola was jolt, not flavored with cherry.
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a GIF
And the pixels of his beard sure gave me a lift.
The stump of a routine he held tight in his code
And I knew he had made it past the last node.
He spoke not a word but looked right at me
And I saw in a flash his file was .SEA.
He self-decompressed and I watched him unfold,
Into a jolly old elf, a sight to behold.
And the whispering sound of my hard drive's head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He went straight to his work without saying a word
And filled all the folders of this happy nerd.
And 'tis the whole truth, as the story is told,
That giving a nod up the window he scrolled,
He sprang to the serial port as if truly on fire
And away they all flew down the thin copper wire.
But I heard him exclaim as he scrolled out of sight
"Happy Christmas to All, and to all a good night."
****************************************************************
****************************************************************
* 'Twas the Newt Before Christmas *
by Dean Bakopoulos
'Twas the night before Christmas and throughout the White House
Al Gore was eyeing Hillary, peering into her blouse.
The Secret Service men were guarding the premises with care,
for a whole host of Democrats were vacationing there.
Chelsea was nestled all snug in her bed
after locking out Mr. Kennedy and the dirty thoughts in his head.
And Bill in his sportcoat; a heavy grey tweed,
had just fried his brain with some Mexican weed.
When out in the garden came a plethora of noise,
all drunken and rowdy: 'twas Gingrich and the boys!
Bill jumped to the window, and tore open the sash,
"It's a raid boys!" he cried, "Quick, go hide my stash!"
The pot in his blood and the moon on the snow
gave a psychedelic haze to the objects below.
When what to Bill's frantic eyes should appear,
but a slew of Republicans and a keg of ice beer,
with a big old leader, all lively and fat;
He knew it was Newt, "Proponent of GATT!"
As vicious as vipers, the Republicans came,
and Bill recognized them and called them by name.
"Hey Helms! Hey Thurmond! Hey Packwood and Hatch!
Hey Dole and Pataki, it's time for a bash!"
A collective cheer rose out from the crowd,
"Let's listen to Nugent, and turn it up loud!"
Together Dems and Rebublicans danced and sang out in cheer,
"Screw Health Care and Haiti, it's time to drink beer!"
When from the chimney, came a blinding black cloud of soot,
and Limbaugh danced from the fireplace in a red Santa suit.
He moved through the crowd, then held up his hand
and when all was silent, he did a keg stand.
And the crowd raised their cups, as Newt bowed down in prayer,
and champagne flowed freely, just like welfare.
As Kennedy and Reno romped in the Green Room,
the rest of the crooks outlined their Hidden Agenda of Doom:
"We'll pray in schools, we'll shove it down their throats!"
"More welfare, more taxes, we'll still get the votes!"
And they drank, hugged, and danced, they crossed party lines,
and they cheered, "It doesn't matter, we're all bastard swines!"
So they threw out allegiance and partisan crap
and took turns sitting on the president's lap.
And Gephardt and Dole passed out on the lawn,
and awoke in the morning without their pants on.
And Packwood gave Tipper a pat on the rear,
while Judge Thomas and Miss Hill went out for more beer.
Then the party-goers discovered a sight so touching and cute,
President Clinton fast asleep, snuggled up next to Newt.
Santa Limbaugh smiled and threw up on his boots,
"A Merry Clinton to all, and to all a good Newt!"
_______________________
Copyright 1994, by The Michigan Review, Inc.
All Rights Reserved
Written by Dean Bakopoulos, University of Michigan
Typed laboriously by Ryan Posly, University of Michigan
Thanks to Gregory Parker, University of Michigan
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****************************************************************
Subject: Eye On New York, Vol. 3, No. 38
From: webm...@ny-politics.com
Date: 1997/12/09
Message-ID: <348CE609...@ny-politics.com>
Newsgroups: ny.politics,nyc.politics,li.politics,alt.politics.democrats.d,alt
.politics.usa.misc
[More Headers]
from EYE ON NEW YORK:
Volume 3, Number 38 December 5, 1997
E-Mail: eo...@ny-politics.com
We're On The Web!
http://www.ny-politics.com/eony/
TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
EONY is grateful to the anonymous author of the following piece
of holiday literature. It came to us here at EONY three years ago
with no means of contacting the original writer.
Twas the night before Christmas, and down on State Street,
Not a creature was stirring. No State workers' feet
Went crunching through snow banks nor slipping on ice
In hopes that Pataki for once would be nice,
And not take their jobs in this holiday season,
Or ship them to Kingston for no earthly reason.
Now I, in my office, with heat turned down low
Tried to finish my work midst the cold and the snow,
When in Lafayette Park there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash!
Pulled the cord on the blinds--they fell down with a crash!
The grime on my windows, near Chancellor's Hall,
Cast a gloom on the scene like a funeral pall.
Then what to my wondering eyes should appear
But Pataki himself, dressed in moving man's gear.
And a new chevy van with five girls and no boys,
Which I knew in an instant were Betsy McCaughey's.
More vapid than cuckoos, his staff ran around
Shouting, "Cut more state jobs--move the rest out of town!
Cut EnCon, cut SUNY, cut OGS too;
Move Tax out, move Labor, to name just a few.
Go to Binghamton, Peekskill, Poughkeepsie, or Troy,
Then cut welfare payments for both girl and boy
To under five years, after that, turn 'em loose.
They can ring bells on corners for their Christmas goose."
As I turned from the window, repulsed by these words,
On the steps of the Capitol, Joe Bruno I heard.
His teeth--how they sparkled! His hair was just so!
His small, shifty eyes darted back--to and fro.
A print-out of family who work for the State
Spilled out from his pockets, crossed Eagle, down State!
A wink of Joe's eye and a nod of his head
Was the sole indication he wasn't brain dead.
He filled exempt jobs with his kith and his kin,
Stared into the cameras with an idiot grin,
And swore to help upstate 'til the last bitter hour.
(Then rushed off to party at glitzy Trump Tower.)
He leapt into his limo, to the driver he called
"To Manhattan, and hurry! We're late, Uncle Claude!"
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove by my door
"I'm so glad that I'm rich and not old, sick or poor!"
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****************************************************************
Subject: A Christmas forward
From: bdas...@digmo.org.remove (Birdman)
Date: 1997/12/09
Message-ID: <66k6mb$ok4$1...@news.missouri.edu>
Newsgroups: alt.drunken.bastards
[More Headers]
No Christmas this year!
Twas the night before Christmas - Old Santa was pissed,
he cussed out the elves and threw down his list.
Miserable little brats, ungrateful little jerks,
I have a good mind to scrap the whole works.
I've busted my ass for damn near a year,
instead of thank Santa, what do I hear?
The old lady bitches, cause I work late at night,
The elves want more money - the reindeer all fight.
Rudolph got drunk, and goosed all the maids,
Donner is pregnant, and Vixen has AIDS.
And just when I thought that things would get better,
those assholes from IRS sent me a letter.
They say I owe taxes - if that ain't damn funny,
who the hell ever sent Santa Clause any money?
And the kids these days - they are all just the pits,
they want the impossible, those mean little shits..
I spent my whole year, making wagons and sleds,
Assembling dolls, their arms, legs, and heads..
I made a ton of yo-yo's, with no requests for them,
They want software and computers, they think I'm IBM.!
If you think that's bad, just picture this,
try holding those brats, with their pants full of piss.!
They pull on my nose, they grab at my beard,
And if I don't smile, the parents think I'm weird.
Flying through the air, dodging the trees,
Falling down chimneys, and skinning my knees.
I'm quitting this job, there is just no enjoyment,
I'll sit on my fat ass, and draw unemployment.
There's no Christmas this year, you now know the reason,
I've found me a blonde, I'm going SOUTH for the season!!
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****************************************************************
Newsgroups: rec.humor
Subject: Obnoxious Nite Before Christmas
Message-ID: <DK0u0...@news.zippo.com>
From: hap...@thepoint.net (Tony D. Lowe)
Date: Sat, 23 Dec 1995 02:56:20 GMT
Sender: use...@news.zippo.com
Organization: HapMaster Enterprises
Lines: 22
This one is a little obnoxious...But funny anyway...Enjoy it too.
Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, everyone felt
shitty, (even the mouse). Mom on the toilet, and Dad smoking grass, I
had just settled down for a nice piece of ass. When out on the roof I
heard such a clatter, I sprang from my piece to see what was the matter.
While up on the roof, I saw some old prick, 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 second, the old fucker had fell. He filled all the stockings with
whiskey and beer, and had a big rubber dick for my brother the queer.
He rose up the chimney with a thundering fart. The son of a bitch blew
my chimney apart. He swore and he cursed as he rode out of sight.
"Piss on you all, its been one hell of a night!"
--
Tony D. Lowe, The HapMaster
Louisville, KY
hap...@thepoint.net
http://www.thepoint.net/~hapmstr
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THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
And now, with great risk, going against the lawyers' advice, we bring
you Clement C. Moore's original visit from St. Nicholas. It is a
classic of the holiday season. It has been recited, set to music, and
reprinted ever since.
A VISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS
by Clement Clarke Moore
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that ST. NICHOLAS soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
'Now, DASHER! now, DANCER! now, PRANCER and VIXEN!
On, COMET! on CUPID! on, DONDER and BLITZEN!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!'
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
'HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT'.
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Here it is! Look for the Christmas Episode to be posted to POFToo
in the next few weeks. BTW, the URL is now
http://pages.map.com/starwars/poftoo/.
*******************************************************
'Twas the Night Before Christmas,
POFToo Style
'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through TRU,
The scalpers were searching for an "investment" or two.
Their vans were parked in the lot by the door,
They dropped off one load then went back for more.
Tickle Me Elmo's were thrown in their carts with great haste,
New Star Wars toys too -- no time to waste.
Running, skipping, dancing in the aisles,
Knocking over stockboys, grabbing figures by the pile!
Then, from the front door, there arose such a clatter.
The night manager ran out to see what was the matter.
He ran to entry and what should appear?
It looked like Santa, with red suit and white beard!
As the manager walked closer, he slowed down because,
By the way Santa walked, no ordinary Santa this was!
He had a range finder above his eye through which he surveyed the store,
Under the red suit was armor, his boots clanked the floor!
As the manager watched, Santa moved down one aisle,
To where the scalpers were standing, each one with a smile.
But as Santa approached, their smiles disappeared,
Their eyes grew beady, their mouths became sneers.
"Too bad for you Santa," they said with a moan,
"Get your own presents, leave our collectibles alone.
You've got all the toys you want, made by your elves,
So leave us alone to clean these off the shelves."
"As you wish", Santa said as he raised his right arm,
The Wookie scalps dangled! His sawed-off blaster was armed!
The scalpers' eyes widened, their jaws dropped in fright.
Santa moved the blaster, placing each one in his sights.
"The matter is simple, these toys are for kids.
But you're selling them at flea markets or, accepting high bids!
You're providing a service? A service to who?
Well, here's where it ends. Here's what you will do:"
You'll put these toys back, all in their right places.
You'll hand them to parents and put smiles on their faces.
These things you will do and if I hear 'no'..."
Santa nodded toward his blaster and then said, "Let's go".
Most scalpers ran, a few in fear walked.
As the manager watched, his shelves were restocked!
When they were finished, they all ran out the door.
For the first time in months, not a scalper in the store!
His work at TRU finished, a job well done,
Santa exited the store and climbed into Sleigh-1.
As the ship raised from the ground, the manager heard called,
"Happy collecting everyone, from Santa Fett, the POFToo Gang,
and especially Paul!"
*************************************************************
Happy Holidays,
Paul
-- =
The Star Wars Toy Resource Page =
http://pages.map.com/starwars/ =
POF Too!!!
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Path: roper.uwyo.edu!csn!copper!mercury.cair.du.edu!mnemosyne.cs.du.edu!tali.hsc.colorado.edu!boulder!agate!howland.reston.ans.net!cs.utexas.edu!sdd.hp.com!decwrl!decwrl!netcomsv!netcomsv!backdoor!caring
Newsgroups: alt.sex
Subject: Season's p.c. poem
Message-ID: <931218124...@backdoor.com>
From: car...@backdoor.com
Date: 18 Dec 93 19:49:50 GMT
Organization: Back Door Comp Svcs Inc
Lines: 74
Subject: Politically correct xmas
POLITICALLY CORRECT XMAS
(This poem is copyright 1992 by Harvey Ehrlich. It is free to distribute,
without changes, as long as this notice remains intact).
"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 by 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 the cops
When they heard sled noises on their rooftops.
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,
Rudolph was suing over unauthorized use of his nose
And had gone on Geraldo, in front of the nation,
Demanding millions in overdue compensation.
So, half the reindeer were gone; and his wife,
Who suddenly said she'd had 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, nor 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 teeth)
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 the left or the right.
A gift that would satisfy, with no indecision,
Each group of people, every religion;
Every ethnicity, every hue,
Everyone, everywhere - even you.
So here is that gift, it's price beyond worth...
"May you and your loved ones enjoy peace on earth."
Hope that you have a Happy Holiday and a '94 filled with health, happiness and
wealth.
bob
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Subject: The Nights Before Christmas [Archive]
From: j...@NOSPAMcyberjunkie.com (JRF)
Date: 1997/12/07
Message-ID: <66f02l$2hu$1...@hirame.wwa.com>
Newsgroups: alt.humor,alt.jokes,alt.tasteless.jokes,rec.humor
[More Headers]
- Da Night Befo' Christmas, Hey, Ho! -
(Aka The Rappin' Version)
'Twas da night befo' Christmas & all in the hood,
Not a homie was stirring cuz it was all good.
The tube socks was hung on the window sill,
And we all had smiles up on our grill.
Mookie and BeBe was snug in the crib
In the back bedroom, cuz that's how we live.
And Moms in her do-rag and me with my nine,
Had just gotten busy cuz girlfriend is fine.
All of a sudden a lowrider rolled by,
Bumpin' phat beats cuz the system's fly.
I bounced to the window at a quarter pas'
Bout ready to pop a cap in somebody's ass!
I yelled to my lady, Yo peep this!
She said, Stop frontin' & just mind yo' bidness.
I said, for real doe, come check dis out.
We weren't even buggin', no worries, no doubt.
Cuz bumpin' an thumpin' from around da way
Was Santa, 8 reindeer and a sleigh.
Da beats was kickin', da ride was phat
I said, "Yo red Dawg, you all that!"
He threw up a sign and yelled to his boyz,
"Ay yo, give it up, let's make some noise!"
To the top of the projects & across the strip mall,
We gots ta go, I got a booty call!"
He pulled up his ride on the top a da roof,
And sippin' on a 40, he busted a move.
I yelled up to Santa, "Yo ain't got no stack!"
He said, "Damn homie, deese projects is wack!
But don't worry black, cuz I gots da skillz,
I learnt back when I hadda pay da billz."
Out from his bag he pulled 3 small tings:
A credit card, a knife, and a bobby pin.
He slid down the fire exscape smoove as a cat,
And busted the window wit' a b-ball bat.
I said, "Whassup, Santa? Whydya bust my place?"
He said,"You best get on up out my face!"
His threads was all leatha, his chains was all gold,
His sneaks was Puma and they was 5 years old.
He dropped down the duffle, Clippers logo on the side.
Santa broke out da loot and my mouf popped open wide.
A wink of his eye and a shine off his gold toof,
He cabbage patched his way back onto the roof
He jumped in his hooptie wit' rims made of chrome,
To tap that booty waitin' at home.
And all I heard as he cruised outta sight,
Was a loud and hearty.....
BROOKLYN'S IN DA HOUSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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A Redneck Christmas
'Twas the night before Christmas And all through the trailer
Not a creature was stirrin' 'Cept a redneck named Taylor.
His first name was Bubba, Joe was his middle,
And a-runnin' down his chin Was a trickle of spittle.
His socks, they were hung by the chimney with care,
And therefore there was a foul stench in the air.
That Bubba got scared And rousted the boys.
There was Rufus, 12; Jim Bob was 11;
Dud goin' on 10; Otis was 7.
John, George and Chucky Were 5,4, and 3:
The twins were both girls So they let them be.
They jumped in their overalls, No need for a shirt,
Threw a hat on each head, Then turned with a jerk.
They ran to the gun rack That hung on the wall.
There were 17 shotguns; They grabbed them all.
Bubba said to the young'uns, "Now hesh up ya'll!
The last thing we wanna do Is wake up yer Maw."
Maw was expecting And needed her sleep,
So out they crept out the door Without making a peep.
They all looked around, and then they all spit.
The young'uns asked Bubba, "Paw, what is it?"
Bubba just stared; He could not say a word.
This was just like all of The stories he'd heard.
It was Santy Claus on the roof, Darn tootin'
But the boys didn't know; They was about to start shootin'!
They aimed their shotguns and nearly made a mistake
That would have resulted in venison steak.
Bubba hollered out, "Don't shoot, boys!"
That's Santy Claus And he's brought us some toys.
The dogs were a-barkin' And a-raisin' cain,
And Bubba whistled, and shouted, And called them by name.
"Down, Spot! Shut up Bullet! Quiet, Pete and Roscoe!
Git, Turnip and Tater and Sam and Bosco!"
"Git down from that porch! Git down off that wall!
Quit shakin the trailer, Or you'll make Santy fall!"
The dogs kept a-barkin' And wouldn't shut up,
And they trampled poor Pete Who was only a pup.
Santy opened his bag, And threw out some toys.
Bubba got most, But left a few for the boys.
Since the guns had been dropped He just might not die.
He jumped in his sleigh, Told his reindeer to hurry.
The trailer started to wobble Santa started to worry.
Just as the reindeer Got into the air,
The trailer collapsed, But Bubba didn't care.
He was busy lookin' At all his new toys.
Then a thought hit him, And he said to the boys:
"Go check on yer Maw, Make sure she's all right.
That roof fallin' on her Could-a hurt just a might."
But Maw was OK, And the girls were too.
They fixed up the trailer; It looked good as new.
And as for Bubba, He liked Old St. Nick,
But Santa thought Bubba Was a pure-in-tee hick!
Bubba had a nice Christmas, And the boys did, too.
And the Taylors wish A Merry Christmas to you!
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Newsgroups: rec.humor
Subject: A Redneck Christmas
Message-ID: <6597...@grafix-net.com>
From: ju...@grafix-net.com (Judyh)
Date: Sun, 08 Dec 1996 00:08:00 (EST)
Reply-To: ju...@grafix-net.com (Judyh)
Organization: The Grafix Network: http://www.grafix-net.com
Lines: 73
A Redneck Christmas
'Twas the night before Christmas And all through the trailer
Not a creature was stirrin' 'Cept a redneck named Taylor.
His first name was Bubba, Joe was his middle,
And a-runnin' down his chin Was a trickle of spittle.
His socks, they were hung by the chimney with care,
And therefore there was a foul stench in the air.
That Bubba got scared And rousted the boys.
There was Rufus, 12; Jim Bob was 11;
Dud goin' on 10; Otis was 7.
John, George and Chucky Were 5,4, and 3:
The twins were both girls So they let them be.
They jumped in their overalls, No need for a shirt,
Threw a hat on each head, Then turned with a jerk.
They ran to the gun rack That hung on the wall.
There were 17 shotguns; They grabbed them all.
Bubba said to the young'uns, "Now hesh up ya'll!
The last thing we wanna do Is wake up yer Maw."
Maw was expecting And needed her sleep,
So out they crept out the door Without making a peep.
They all looked around, and then they all spit.
The young'uns asked Bubba, "Paw, what is it?"
Bubba just stared; He could not say a word.
This was just like all of The stories he'd heard.
It was Santy Claus on the roof, Darn tootin'
But the boys didn't know; They was about to start shootin'!
They aimed their shotguns and nearly made a mistake
That would have resulted in venison steak.
Bubba hollered out, "Don't shoot, boys!"
That's Santy Claus And he's brought us some toys.
The dogs were a-barkin' And a-raisin' cain,
And Bubba whistled, and shouted, And called them by name.
"Down, Spot! Shut up Bullet! Quiet, Pete and Roscoe!
Git, Turnip and Tater and Sam and Bosco!"
"Git down from that porch! Git down off that wall!
Quit shakin the trailer, Or you'll make Santy fall!"
The dogs kept a-barkin' And wouldn't shut up,
And they trampled poor Pete Who was only a pup.
Santy opened his bag, And threw out some toys.
Bubba got most, But left a few for the boys.
Since the guns had been dropped He just might not die.
He jumped in his sleigh, Told his reindeer to hurry.
The trailer started to wobble Santa started to worry.
Just as the reindeer Got into the air,
The trailer collapsed, But Bubba didn't care.
He was busy lookin' At all his new toys.
Then a thought hit him, And he said to the boys:
"Go check on yer Maw, Make sure she's all right.
That roof fallin' on her Could-a hurt just a might."
But Maw was OK, And the girls were too.
They fixed up the trailer; It looked good as new.
And as for Bubba, He liked Old St. Nick,
But Santa thought Bubba Was a pure-in-tee hick!
Bubba had a nice Christmas, And the boys did, too.
And the Taylors wish A Merry Christmas to you!
In the words of the imortal Tigger: "TTFN, that means Ta Ta For Now."
---
* PowerAccess 1.50 Grafix On-Line 517-694-5463
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Subject: Another Night Before Christmas
From: "Ron Myers" <ronmy...@sprintmail.com>
Date: 1997/11/23
Message-ID: <65afbd$7bj$1...@newsfep1.sprintmail.com>
Newsgroups: christnet.poetry
[More Headers]
Another Night Before Christmas.......
Twas the night before Christmas
And I was uptight.
There WAS something missing.
Felt somethings not right.
The holiday fluff was hung up with care.
Retailers were glad. For sales goals were there.
I with my bottle. Wife under stress.
Guests were obnoxious. A fine Christmas mess.
With Christmas depression, I happen to spy.
A dusty old Bible. Without knowing why.
Picked up the old book and turned to the story.
Back to the time, of Christmass glory.
The shepherds were watching their sheep in the night.
And LO! Up above a WONDERFUL sight.
The Angels were singing in GLORIOUS praise.
A babe in a manger, Wholl from sin mankind raise.
And up in the sky. Beholding afar.
Oer mother and babe, a BRIGHT shining star.
Leaving their flocks, to see that night.
Our tiny Savior, Wholl set evil to flight.
With tears in my eyes, I remembered the reason.
This tiny child, was the cause for the season.
I called out through the house. And gathered my clan.
And read from the Bible, so theyd understand.
We sang that night. We worshiped the King.
And we felt the JOY, of what Christmas brings.
We drew closer together. Filled with His Light.
Merry Christmas to all. To all a Good Night.
Ron Myers
ronmy...@sprintmail.com
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Newsgroups: rec.humor
Subject: Re: mdwyer's TXT Files
Message-ID: <36iojm$1k...@yuma.ACNS.ColoState.EDU>
From: mdw...@lamar.ColoState.EDU (Michael Dwyer)
Date: 1 Oct 1994 04:29:42 GMT
References: <36in5l$1k...@yuma.ACNS.ColoState.EDU>
Organization: Colorado State University, Fort Collins, CO 80523
Lines: 26
Keep this away from the kids. Its kinda offensive. But its fun!
I bid you good day! (I had some more of these *somewhere* ... where the
hell did I put them?!) Back to you later!
'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, everyone was
getting laid, even the mouse. With Ma in her whore house and dad in jail, I
had just settled down for a nice piece of tail...When out on the lawn, there
rose such a clatter, I sprang from my sister-in-law to see what was the
matter. I threw open the shudders and threw out the hash, triped over my
boner and busted my ass. And out on the lawn but what should appear but a
rusty ol' sleigh, and 8 fucking reindeer. Out of the sleigh jumped a big, fat
dick...and I knew in an instant it must be St. Prick. "To the top of the
roofs, to the top of the walls, on you bastards before I cut off your balls!"
He came down the chimney like a bat outta Hell, and I knew for a fact the poor
fucker had fell. He filled the stockings with pretzels and beer, and a big
rubber dick for my brother the queer. Then he rose up the chimney with a
thunderous fart, that son of a bitch, he blew the damn thing apart!
And he cursed and he swore as he rode out of sight, "Fuck you all, I've had
one hell of a night!"
* Origin: The Neutral Zone - 904-794-0975 (143:904/794)
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Subject: Foetus X-Mas
From: atf...@aol.com (Atfiii)
Date: 1997/12/08
Message-ID: <19971208034...@ladder02.news.aol.com>
Newsgroups: alt.music.foetus
[More Headers]
Twas the night before Christmas,
And all through the house,
Not a thing was stirring,
Especially from my spouse.
Her panties were hung by the fireplace with care
With the hope that CLINT RUIN would soon be there.
Her lusty thoughts nestled, all snug in her head
With thoughts of taking the Sick Man himself to bed.
My wife in her thong with her hands on her lap,
Settled down on the toilet for a long winter's crap.
When all of a sudden there came such a clatter.
She rushed out of the john to see what's the matter.
Down the chimney he came with eyes all aglow,
Saint Foetus himself, looking for that holiday blow.
My wife melted as if her thighs were like jelly
And he ripped a fart that was really quite smelly.
While I slept the whole night through until morning
He mounted my faithless wife on our new Corning.
On the piano, on the sofa, in all the secret places
They rode each other into the night, and made such faces.
And, when they made their departure with much fright
He screamed, " A hairy Christmas to all, and to all a good blight! "
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- The Night Before Christmas -
Twas the night befor Christmas, and God it was neat.
The kids were both gone, and my wife was in heat.
The doors were all bolted, the phone off the hook,
It was time for some nooky, by hook or by crook.
Momma in her teddy and I in the nude,
Had just hit the bedroom and reached for the lube.
When out on the lawn there arose such a cry,
That I lost my boner, and momma went dry.
Up to the window I sprang like an elf,
Tore back the shade while she played with herself.
The moon on the crest of the snowman we'd built,
Showed a broom up his ass, clean up to the hilt.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a rusty old sleigh and eight mangey reindeer.
With a fat little driver, half out of the sled,
A sock in his ear and a bra on his head.
Sure as I'm speaking, he was high as a kite,
And he yelled to his team, but it didn't sound right.
Woa Shithead, woa Asshole, woa Stupid, woa Putz,
Either slow down this rig or I'll cut off your nuts.
Look out for the lamp post, and don't hit the tree,
Quit shaking the sleigh, 'cause I gotta go pee.
They cleared the old lamp post, the tree got a rub,
Just as Santa leaned out and threw up on my shrub.
And then from the roof we heard such a clatter,
As each little reindeer now emptied his bladder.
I was donning my jockies, to cover my ass,
When down the chimney Santa came with a crash.
His suit was all smelly with perfume galore,
He looked like a bum and he smelled like a whore.
"That was some brothel," he said with a smile,
"The reindeer are pooped, and I'll just stay awhile"
He walked to the kitchen for himself poured a drink,
Then whipped out his pecker and pissed in the sink.
I started to laugh, my wife smiled with glee,
The old boy was hung nearly down to his knee.
Back in the den, Santa reached in his sack,
But his toys were all gone, and some new things were packed.
The first thing he found was a pair of false tits,
The next was a handgun with a penis that spits.
A box filled with condoms was Santa's next find,
And six pair of panties, the edible kind.
A bra without nipples, a penis extension,
And several more things I shouldn't even mention.
A fuck ring, a G-string, and all types of oil,
And a dildo so long that it lay in a coil.
"This stuff ain't for kids, Mrs. Santa will shit,
So I'll leave 'em here, and then I'll just split."
He filled every stocking and then took his leave,
With one tiny butt plug stuck under his sleeve.
He sprang to his sleigh, but his feet were like lead,
Thus he fell on his ass and broke wind instead.
In time he was seated, took reigns of his hitch,
Saying, "Take me home, Rudolf. This night's been a bitch!"
The sleigh was near gone when we heard Santa shout,
"The best thing about pussy is you can't wear it out!!"
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From: IN%"Fra...@ThePentagon.com" "Frasier" 19-DEC-1996 14:54:45.59
To:
CC:
Subj: THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS SHOPPING
THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS SHOPPING
By Greg Bulmash
Twas the night before Christmas and all through the town
Shoppers were busy, speeding around
A gift for Aunt Martha, a bathrobe for dad
And a Tickle-Me Elmo was not to be had
I was buckled tight into my seatbelt with hope
That I had not yet reached the end of my rope
And with a great twist, my car key did turn
>From my driveway I sped, and I made rubber burn
And through the bright streets, all covered with lights
I sped like a rabbit, all shiv'ring with fright
I searched high and low, through the streets I did weave
To find a store open this late Christmas Eve.
The toy shop was closing, I raced to the door
I begged and I pleaded, I cried and implored
But I was condemned, some more I would roam
For all the employees were going straight home
Home was the place that I wanted to be
But alas there was nothing but air neath the tree
So I sped to the Wal-Mart for some last minute shopping
The parking was jammed, the store it was hopping
I pressed into the store through an exiting crowd
A large mass of people, all noisy and loud
Like locusts these people had shopped with great care
And left all the shelves quite empty and bare
I found an employee who stood by the door,
And grabbed at his vest, lifting him from the floor
"Just five measly gifts! I don't care what they are!
I'll give you my wallet! I'll give you my car!"
"We have nothing left," the poor man did squeak.
"We won't get a shipment 'til later this week."
I ran to my car and cursed at my luck
I kicked at the tire and then shouted "F**k!!!"
But time was a wasting as darkness fell down
Merchants were closing all over the town
The toy store, the book store, the Wal-Mart, oh crap!
The Good Guys and Best Buy, the Sears and the Gap
And now I was feeling the worst of my fears
My children would hate me for twenty-five years
A sign in the distance made me thank the powers
For written upon it: "Open 24 Hours"
For Tommy a Slurpee, for Ann a Slim Jim
And a carton of Camels for my lovely wife, Kim
Some lottery tickets for Mom and for Dad
And Penthouse and Playboy for my brother, Brad
In just a few minutes I got my shopping done
And headed right home for some holiday fun
As I turned at the corner and drove out of sight
I thanked 7-11 for being open all night!
-----------------------------------------------------------------
NEW AND IMPROVED IMPORTANT LEGAL STUFF:
This document is copyrighted. That means it's MINE. I spent a lot of
time working on it and I own it. You can e-mail copies to friends with
my blessing so long as you DON'T CHANGE IT and you KEEP THIS NOTICE.
That is ALL you can do. Anything else... get permission first because
Santa knows if you've been naughty or nice.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
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Subject: Twas the Night Before..........
From: "Pete Moss" <pete...@servtech.com>
Date: 1997/12/05
Message-ID: <01bd01a3$989a7bc0$2282...@peterson.stny.lrun.com>
Newsgroups: rec.gardens.roses
[More Headers]
Twas the night before Show time, When all through the tool shed,
Not a creature was stirring, Not even an aphid.
The pruners were hung in a row with great care,
In hopes that Rose Show Day soon would be there.
The Minis were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of blue ribbons danced in our heads.
And Mamma with her schedule, and I with my check list,
Had just settled down to see if any had been missed.
When out in the garden, there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the table to see what was the matter.
Away to the doorway I flew like a fool,
Tore open the curtain, nearly fell in the pool.
The moon on the breast of the new mown grass,
Gave no hint of what had come or what had passed.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But an old rusting van and that was quite clear.
With a little old driver so quick and gregarian,
I knew in a moment it was "Super Rosarian".
More rapid than Black Spot his appearance was made,
And he whistled and shouted and called out some names.
'Grow Pristine, grow Sonia, grow Austrian Copper!'
'Grow Iceberg, grow Sunsprite, you all are show stoppers!'
'To the top of your class, to the top of the hall,'
'Blue Ribbons, blue ribbons, blue ribbons for all!'
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they're meant for a mulch, out the bed they will lie,
So up the driveway that old man flew,
With a van full of tricks and "Super Rosarian" too.
And then in a twinkling, I heard in the garden,
A crashing, a mashing and 'Oops, beg your pardon!'
As I withdrew my head and was turning around,
Down the walk "Super Rosarian" came with a bound.
He was dressed all in green from his boots to his shirt,
And his clothes were all tarnished with bonemeal and dirt.
A bundle of show tags he held clenched in his fist,
And I hoped he would find a rose I had missed.
His hands, how they pampered! He coaxed tight buds open!
He polished each leaf 'til they all were a-glowin'!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the rose at his breast was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pencil he held tight in his teeth,
And he checked and he labeled each entry, so neat.
He had a broad face and a round little belly,
That shook when he laughed like a bowl of rose jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly rosarian,
And I laughed when I saw him instead of just staren!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a work, but went straight to his work,
And filled out the tags; then turned with a jerk,
And laying a finger aside of a rose, and giving a nod,
Smiled; striking a pose.
Then he sprang to his van, though his engine did whistle,
And away he flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim ere he drove out of sight...
"Happy Show Time To All......May Your Trophies Shine Bright!"
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Date: 12-OCT-1994 20:08:06.79
Subj: The Night Before Christmas, Star Trek style. :)
THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
==========================
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the ship
Not a circuit was buzzing, not one microchip;
The phasers were hung in the armory securely,
In hopes that no aliens would get up that early.
The crewmen were nestled all snug in their bunks
(Except for the few who were partying drunks);
And Picard in his nightshirt and Bev in her lace,
Had just settled down for a neat face-to-face...
When out in the halls there arose such a racket,
That we leapt from our beds, pulling on pants and jacket.
Away to the lifts we all shot like a gun,
Leapt into the cars and yelled loudly, "Deck One!"
The bridge Red-Alert lights, which flashed through the din,
Gave a lustre of Hades to objects within.
When, what, on the viewscreen, should our eyes behold,
But a weird kind of sleigh, and some guy who looked old.
But the glint in his eyes was so strange and askew
That we knew in a moment it had to be Q.
His sleigh grew much larger as closer he came.
Then he zapped on the bridge and addressed us by name:
"It's Riker! It's Data! It's Worf and Jean-Luc!
It's Geordi! And Wesley, the genetic fluke!
To the top of the bridge, to the top of the hall!
Now float away! Float away! Float away all!"
As leaves in the autumn are whisked off the street,
So the floor of the bridge came away from our feet,
And up to the ceiling our bodies they flew,
As the captain called out, "What the hell is this, Q?!"
The prankster just laughed and expanded his grin,
And, snapping his fingers, he vanished again.
As we took in our plight and were looking around,
The spell was removed, and we crashed to the ground.
Then Q, dressed in fur from his head to his toe,
Appeared once again, to continue the show.
"That's enough!" cried the captain,
"You'll stop this at once!"
And Riker said, "Worf! Take aim at this dunce!"
"I'm deeply offended, Jean-Luc," replied Q,
"I just want to celebrate Christmas with you."
As we scoffed at his words, he produced a large sack.
He dumped out the contents and took a step back.
"I've brought gifts," he said, "just to show I'm sincere.
There's something delightful for everyone here."
He sat on the floor and dug into his pile,
And handed out gifts with his most charming smile:
"For Counsellor Troi, there's no need to explain.
Here's Tylenol-Beta for all of your pain.
For Worf I've some mints as his breath's not too great,
And for Geordi LaForge, an inflatable date.
For Wesley, some hormones, and Clearasil-Plus;
For Data, a joke book; for Riker, a truss.
For Beverly Crusher, there's sleek lingerie,
And for Jean-Luc, the thrill of just seeing her that way."
Then he sprang to his feet with that grin on his face
And clapping his hands, disappeared into space.
But we heard him exclaim as he dwindled from sight,
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good flight!
-- Elliot Smorodinsky
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Newsgroups: rec.humor
Subject: Star Trek Xmas
Message-ID: <19961221135...@ladder01.news.aol.com>
From: stell...@aol.com (StellaStar)
Date: 21 Dec 1996 14:00:10 GMT
Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com
Lines: 83
(I'm sending this instead of snailcards this year)
Twas a Star Trek Christmas
'Twas the night before Christmas on the Enterprise-D,
On a routine short hop to Starbase 03,
With Data on duty in the command chair,
At Warp 6, the Enterprise soon would be there.
Just for something to do while the other crew slept,
He scanned where historical records were kept --
And with a blink of his eye and a cock of his head,
"Intriguing! Tomorrow is Christmas!" he said.
But no one was stirring, and he sought to find why,
And so he buzzed Geordi, who awoke with a sigh:
"Christmas? It's only an old holiday --
Now just let me get back to sleep, okay?"
"But is to wish Merry Christmas not human to do?"
And so Data wished it -- to the whole ship and crew.
Everyone on the Enterprise awoke from this clatter --
Picard rushed to the bridge to see what was the matter.
"What is the meaning of this noise, Mister Data?"
"Sir, is it not Christmas--?" "We'll discuss it much later!"
Just then Worf said, "Captain -- a Klingon Prey Bird!
Its hull has been damaged -- it's uncloaking, sir."
"On screen," said Picard, as the Klingon ship hailed:
"Federation vessel, our Life Support systems have failed!
A strange ship attacked us, inflicting the worst,
(though naturally, of course, we'd fired on it first)."
The Klingons beamed over, and the senior staff met,
To try and determine the source of the threat.
Said Picard, "Mister Data, an assignment for you:
Give all of these Klingons something to do!
They think it's the Romulans we should look for,
Get them all off the bridge, before there's a war!"
So Data departed, while the rest of the crew
Wondered: Romulans? Ferengi? If not them, then who?
Said Worf, "Sir -- disturbance on Holodeck Three!"
The entire bridge crew ran down there to see.
Roared Picard, "Mister Data, what the devil is this!!"
"Sir, I have taught the Klingons how to celebrate Christmas."
And so there they were -- on holodecks 3, 4 and 5
With synthohol, singing and Rokeg Blood Pie!
Soon the Big E was rocking with holiday cheer
Friend,foe, and family came from both far and near.
The Romulans showed up with some Romulan Ale,
The Ferengi brought goodies for free -- not for sale!
But a strange ship was coming, the captain was told,
With one crew member only, and a huge cargo hold.
aid the Klingons, "It's the strange ship that fought us -- attack!"
Said Picard, "On Christmas? -- Mister Worf, just hold back."
And then as the ship came into view,
Onscreen came its captain -- none other than Q!
He wore a white beard and a suit of deep red...
"Joyeux Noel, mon captain," was what Santa Q said.
"Tell those Klingons next time to not go so berserk.
You need good defense systems in this line of work.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be warping away...
Did you think anyone else could do this job in one day?"
"I'm sensing emotion," said Counselor Troi,
"Peace in the galaxy, Good Will and Joy."
And they stood on the bridge and watched Q take flight, shouting,
"MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT!"
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Newsgroups: rec.humor
Subject: Have A Stealth Christmas
Message-ID: <19961220141356.reid@frank_reid.electronics.indiana.edu>
From: re...@indiana.edu (Frank Reid)
Date: Fri, 20 Dec 1996 14:13 EST
Distribution: world
Organization: Indiana University
Lines: 54
from an undisclosed military source...
Have A Stealth Christmas
Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the skies,
Air defenses were up, with electronic eyes.
Combat pilots were nestled in ready-room beds,
As enemy silhouettes danced in their heads.
Every jet on the apron, each SAM in its tube,
Was triply-redundant linked to the Blue Cube,
And ELINT and AWACS gave coverage so dense,
That nothing that flew could slip through our defense.
When out of the klaxon arose such a clatter,
I dashed to the screen to see what was the matter,
I dialed up the gain and then quick as a flash,
Fine-adjusted the filters to damp out the hash.
And there found the source of the warning we'd heeded,
An incoming blip, by eight escorts preceded.
"Alert status red!" went the word down the wire,
As we gave every system the codes that meant "FIRE"!
On Aegis! Up Patriot, Phalanx and Hawk!
And scramble our fighters -- let's send the whole flock!
Launch decoys and missiles! Use chaff by the yard!
Get the kitchen sink up! Call the National Guard!
They turned toward the target, moved toward it, converged,
Till the tracks on the radar all finally merged,
And the sky was lit up with a demonic light,
As the foe met his fate in the high arctic night.
So we sent out some recon to look for debris,
Yet all that they found, both on land and on sea,
Were some toys, a red hat, a charred left leather boot,
Broken sleighbells, white hair, and a deer's parachute.
Now it isn't quite Christmas, with Saint Nick shot down.
There are unhappy kids in each village and town.
For the Spirit of Christmas can't hope to evade,
All the web of defenses we've carefully made.
Just look how the gadgets we use to protect us,
In other ways alter, transform, and affect us.
They keep us from things that make life more worth living,
Like love for each other, and thoughts of just giving.
But a crash program's on: Working hard, night and day,
All the elves are constructing a radar-proof sleigh.
So let's wait for next Christmas, in cheer and in health,
For the future has hope: Santa's coming by stealth!
--
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A VISIT FROM ST. HICK
(c) 1993 Christopher M. Mislow
'Twas late Christmas eve, and throughout the White House
All slumbered but Socks (who was chewing a mouse)
When all of a sudden a thunderous roar
Rattled the East Wing from rafter to floor.
Unsure if the noise was just gas or artillery,
Bill Clinton took action: he deputized Hillary.
In her robe and her slippers, she trudged to the source
Of the noise and saw nothing, but then heard a coarse
Texas twang from the fireplace clamor
"Down here! Are y'all just as blind as those tinhorn reindeer?"
There, on the hearth, 'midst the timber and tinder,
Sat H. Ross Perot, all covered wit cinder.
"Your flue," he complained, "is disgusting with soot.
You gave far too many staff members the foot.
Cutting budgets is wonderful; better is cheaper.
But you need either Zoe's or Kimba's housekeeper.
>From ashes that thick, someone's breathing might fail.
Thank goodness, like Bill, that I didn't inhale."
"Why, Ross," replied Hillary, "pray tell what is it
To which Bill and I owe this Christmas Eve visit?
You're certainly welcome to use the front door.
Did you come down the chimney to hide from Al Gore?"
Shaking the layer of ash from his head,
Ross brushed his flattop, glowered and said:
"No, M'am. I'm a shareholder in Santa Claus, Inc.,
Whose dividends recently started to sink.
When I finally cornered old Santa himself,
He offered to hire me on as an elf!
So I planned my attack, set my financing snares,
Then bought all the company's outstanding shares.
Christmas trees won't be all that get trimmed from now on;
The era of deficit budgets is gone.
The business is gonna be run right because
All day, every day, now I am Santa Claus."
>From his inside coat pocket Ross whipped out a chart
And a pointer he brandished with well-practiced art.
"Now, you look at this. You see this here graph?
The way Santa's workshop was run is a laugh.
Those North Pole utility bills are a joke,
And the union-scale wages will soon have us broke.
We need much, much cheaper electrical power,
And elves who don't make fifteen dollars an hour."
For dramatic effectiveness, Ross took a pause,
Then resumed his debut as the new Santa Claus.
"Each new day brings another environment rule.
Recycling toys is a pain in the Yule!
The slogan 'keep the North Pole white'
Is driving expenditures clear out of sight.
Luckily, NAFTA provides a solution,
A haven in which I can discharge pollution
Into the air or the land of my neighbor,
Where the powe union committee:
I'm moving the workshop to Mexico City."
Then, in a twinkle, up the chimney he went,
Back through the soot out the cold rooftop vent.
But not before saying, with a wink and a nod,
"Buenas noches, Miss Hillary, and Feliz Navidad!"
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An Minor Adaptation for Stitchers
of
Clement Moore's
"A Visit From St. Nicholas"
(adapted by Kathleen M. Dyer)
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even my spouse;
The stockings weren't hung yet, as they were still where
I was frantically stitching them, pulling my hair;
Quite unlike my children, each snug in a bed,
While visions of mattresses danced in my head,
In my sweat pants and T-shirt and old baseball cap,
Drinking triple espressos, no time for a nap;
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tripped over the tote bag, then threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the look of metallics to objects below,
When, what to my sleep deprived eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
Gliding like silk thread his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As floss scraps that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.
Then, losing my needle, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I let my thread fall, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
I snatched up my stitching and flung it far back,
For fear of the soot on his clothes and his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
He looked like the chart I had bought for the reason
Of stitching it up for the holiday season.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work
To fill all the stockings, but turned with a jerk.
"And where are the stockings?" He looked down his nose.
I handed them over, and blushed like a rose.
He finished his work, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Get done early next year, don't wait 'til the last night!"
--
Kathleen Dyer <mailto:kd...@wco.com>
Counted Cross Stitch, Needlework and Stitchery Page
<http://www.wco.com/~kdyer/xstitch.html>
Livermore Valley Opera <http://www.wco.com/~kdyer/lvo/>
"Time has little to do with infinity and jelly doughnuts."
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Continues in part 2 of 2