Twas the night before Christmas (Politically Correct) and (Modern)

Christmas Jokes ^

[SAMWolf]

Twas the night before Christmas
(Politically Correct) '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 labour conditions at the north pole
Were alleged by the union to stifle the soul.
Four reindeer had vanished, without much propriety,
Released to the wilds by the Humane Society.
And equal employment had made it quite clear
That Santa had better not use just reindeer.
So Dancer and Donner, Comet and Cupid,
Were replaced with 4 pigs, and you know that looked stupid!
The runners had been removed from his sleigh;
The ruts were termed dangerous by the E. P. A.
And people had started to call for the cops
When they heard sled noises on their rooftops.
Secondhand smoke from his pipe had his workers quite frightened.
His fur trimmed red suit was called Unenlightened.
And to show you the strangeness of life's ebbs and flows,
Rudolf was suing over unauthorised use of his nose
And had gone on Geraldo, in front of the nation,
Demanding millions in overdue compensation.
So, half of the reindeer were gone; and his wife,
Who suddenly said she'd enough of this life,
Joined a self-help group, packed, and left in a whiz,
Demanding from now on her title was Ms.
And as for the gifts, why, he'd ne'er had a notion
That making a choice could cause so much commotion.
Nothing of leather, nothing of fur,
Which meant nothing for him. And nothing for her.
Nothing that might be construed to pollute.
Nothing to aim. Nothing to shoot.
Nothing that clamoured or made lots of noise.
Nothing for just girls. Or just for the boys.
Nothing that claimed to be gender specific.
Nothing that's warlike or non-pacific.
No candy or sweets, they were bad for the tooth.
Nothing that seemed to embellish a truth.
And fairy tales, while not yet forbidden,
Were like Ken and Barbie, better off hidden.
For they raised the hackles of those psychological
Who claimed the only good gift was one ecological.
No baseball, no football, someone could get hurt
Besides, playing sports exposes kids to dirt.
Dolls were said to be sexist and should be passe
And Nintendo would rot your poor brain away.
So Santa just stood there, dishevelled, 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."

Twas the night before Christmas
(2001 Version)

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 grateful went, though I suppose
there's something to say for those self-deluded-
I'd forgotten that BATTERIES are never included!

[Coleus]

That's a good one.

If you really want to be PC, you're going to have to change the title to: Twas the Night before X-mas or Twas the Night before Happy Holidays

Hey, Merry Christmas

[SAMWolf]

If you really want to be PC, you're going to have to change the title to: Twas the Night before X-mas or Twas the Night before Happy Holidays

Excellent point, It's already being changed in the Government schools and I can't stand companies that replace Merry Chritmas with say Happy Holidays and have Holiday Parties instead of Christmas Parties.

[redhead]

Like this?

THE NIGHT BEFORE THE WINTER HOLIDAY

'Twas the night before Winter Holiday, and all through the public housing apartment,
Not an animal was stirring, not even a mus musculus, (recently making it to the index of endangered species).
The stockings were hung by the recently inspected chimney with care,
In hopes that Holiday icons soon would be there.

The 1.3 children were nestled all snug in their FDA-approved beds,
While visions of high-complex carbohydrate treats Danced in their heads.

With the significant other in her/his kerchief and I in my cap
We'd just settled down for a long winter's nap.
When out on the protected species of wildflowers and native grasses there arose such a clatter
I sprang from my bed to see why nobody was wearing OSHA - approved ear protection and steel-toed boots.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and and threw up on the sash.

The moon on the breast (is this sexist??) of the new-fallen snow gave a luster of midday to objects below.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a miniature solar-powered sleigh and eight tiny simulated reindeer (no animals were injured in the making of this poem);
With a little old driver so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it had to be the Winter Holiday icon.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, and he/she whistled and shouted (without using any gender specific or racially inflammatory terms) and called them by name:
"Now, Dasher, now Dancer, now Prancer and Vixen (wait! Is this gender specific?); On, Comet, on Cupid, on Donder and Blitzen!

"From the top of the porch to the top of the wall, now dash away, dash away, dash away all!"

As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle (not manmade, of course. Strictly occurring in nature) mount to the sky.

I drew in my head, and was turning around, when down the chimney the Winter Holiday icon came with a bound.
He/she was dressed all in fake fur, from his/her head to his/her foot, and his/her clothes were all covered with (Not for human consumption. Caution: Keep out of reach of children. Contains flame residue) ashes and soot.
The smile on his/her face and the tilt of his/her head soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

His/her eyes, how they twinkled! His/her dimple, how merry!
His/her belly shook like a bowl full of sugar-free, fat-free, low calorie jelly.

The stump of a water pipe he/she held tight in his/her teeth (This is a smoke free building. Thank you for not smoking.) and the steam it encircled his/her head like a wreath.

He/she spoke not a word but went straight to his/her work, and filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk (can we say this in public?)
And laying his/her finger alongside of his/her nose, and giving a nod, up the chimney he/she rose.

He/she went to his/her sleigh, to the team gave a whistle, and away they all flew, like the down on a (protected species) thistle.

But I heard him/her exclaim ere he/she drove out of sight,
"Happy Holidays to all peoples, all ethnicities, all religions (except Christian), and all learning abilities, and to all a good night!"

[Sir Gawain]

Politically Correct Three Little Pigs

Once there were 3 little pigs who lived together in mutual respect and in harmony with their environment. Using materials that were indigenous to the area they each built a beautiful house. One pig built a house of straw, one a house of sticks, and one a house of dung, clay and creeper vines shaped into bricks and baked in a small kiln. When they were finished, the pigs were satisfied with their work and settled back to live in peace and self-determination.

But their idyll was soon shattered. One day, along came a big, bad wolf with expansionist ideas. He saw the pigs and grew very hungry in both a physical and ideological sense.

When the pigs saw the wolf, they ran into the house of straw. The wolf ran up to the house and banged on the door, shouting, "Little pigs, little pigs, let me in!"

The pigs shouted back, "Your gunboat tactics hold no fear for pigs defending their homes and culture."

But the wolf wasn't to be denied what he thought was his manifest destiny. So he huffed and puffed and blew down the house of straw. The frightened pigs ran to the house of sticks, with the wolf in hot pursuit. Where the house had stood, other wolves bought up the land and started a banana plantation.

At the house of sticks, the wolf again banged on the door and shouted, "Little, pigs, little pigs, let me in!"

The pigs shouted back, "Go to hell, you carnivorous, imperialistic oppressor!"

At this the wolf huffed and puffed and blew down the house of sticks. The pigs ran to the house of bricks, with the wolf close at their heels. Where the house of sticks had stood, other wolves built a time-share condo resort complex for vacationing wolves, with each unit a fibreglass reconstruction of the house of sticks, as well as native curio shops, snorkelling and dolphin shows.

At the house of bricks, the wolf again banged on the door and shouted, "Little pigs, little pigs, let me in!"

This time in response, the pigs sang songs of solidarity and wrote letters of protest to the United Nations.

By now the wolf was getting angry at the pigs' refusal to see the situation from the carnivore's point of view. So he huffed and puffed, and huffed and puffed, then grabbed his chest and fell over dead from a massive heart attack brought on from eating too many fatty foods.

The three little pigs rejoiced that justice had triumphed and did a little dance around the corpse of the wolf. Their next step was to liberate their homeland. They gathered together a band of other pigs who had been forced off their lands. This new brigade of porcinistas attacked the resort complex with machine-guns and rocket launchers and slaughtered the cruel wolf oppressors, sending a clear signal to the rest of the hemisphere not to meddle in their internal affairs. Then the pigs set up a model socialist democracy with free education, universal health care and affordable housing for everyone. {My note: well it is a fairy tale after all.}

Please note: The wolf in this story was a metaphorical construct. No actual wolves were harmed in the writing of the story.

[Alabama_Wild_Man]

"...Were replaced with 4 pigs..."
=======================

Gasp !! !! !!

...I reckon that rules out any stops by Santa in Afganistan...eH?

Bump for sharing....

[wittyone]

===============================
A TACTICAL SHOOTER'S CHRISTMAS
===============================

'Twas the night before Christmas, cold, dark and foreboding,
As I sat at the work bench, quite busy reloading.
The empties from autumn were polished so clear
For primers and powder, and bullets from Speer,
And Sierra boat-tails, and Nosler's Partitions
(My bench ain't no place for brand name omissions!).
All sat in their boxes, right next to the press
With dies from Midway, and RCBS.

When all of a sudden there came such a jolt,
I grabbed for my Mossberg and whipped out my Colt.
As I spilled Hodgdon's powder all over the shelf,
I scrambled for cover, just to protect myself.

From up on the rooftop, came hoofbeats and snorting,
Like the noise out of L'il Rock, from Clinton's cavorting!
I eased off the safety, to press-check my auto,
With 230-hardball, I'd knock 'em all blotto.

Were these rogue federal agents, sent by Schumer and Reno?
Or a staggering Ted Kennedy, in bad need of vino?
My question was answered with a knock, and some sneezing,
"It's Santa, you moron, lemme in there, I'm freezing!"

I flipped off the dead-bolt and threw the door wide,
To find St. Nick a'shivering, Rudolph by his side.
He eyeballed my Thompson, with a nod of approval;
"You're all set," he said, "for dirtbag removal."
"But this is no raid, we're not here to harm you,
Or persecute, prosecute or even disarm you."
Instead, said dear Santa, he needed to borrow
My .357, 'till day after tomorrow.

"It's okay," he assured me, with a hint of frustration.
"I'm enrolled in the National Rifle Association."
He showed me his card, 'twas a Life Member rating;
"I've had this since me and the missus were dating!"

"And you see, ol' buddy, I've gotten real nervous
Since Feinstein was elected, with a promise to serve us."
So henceforth as I'm out there, my presents a'stackin'.
"I want to assure you, I'm legally packin'."
"And my gift for you this year, should give you a hoot:
"I've told the Supreme Court to give Brady the boot!

"Now, Rudy and I must be on our way,"
He said, as he climbed back on the seat of his sleigh.
With the reins in his hand, and my Smith in his pocket,
He jingled the sleighbells and was off like a rocket.
With a pair of speedloaders, and ammo to spare,
I knew he'd be safe, he was loaded for bear,

As he faded from view, I could still hear him calling,
"From D.C., where 'P.C.' is already falling,
"To bad guys in L.A., Detroit and Atlanta:
"I'm licensed to carry. Don't be messin' with Santa!"

[wittyone]

For the minimalists among us:

=======================
SEIZING THE OPPORTUNITY
=======================

'Twas The night before Christmas,
And all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring,
So I took their stereo.

[wittyone]

And one for the lawyers on FR:

=========================================
A VISIT FROM SAINT NICHOLAS (IN LEGALESE)
=========================================

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 possesors of this potential, including the species of domestic 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 Saint Nicholas.

The prepubesent siblings, comfortably ensconced in their respective accommodations of repose, were experiencing subconscious visual hallucinations of variegated fruit confections moving rhythmically through their cerebrums.

My conjugal partner and I, attired in our nocturnal head coverings, were about to take slumberous advantage of the hibernal darkness when upon the 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 therof.

Hastening to the casement, I forthwith opened the barriers sealing this fenestration. Noting thereupon that the lunar brilliance without, reflected as it was on the surface of a recent crystalline precipation, might be said to rival that of the solar meridian itself; thus permitting my incredulous optical sensory organs to behold a miniature airborne runnered conveyence, drawn by eight diminutive specimens of the genus Rangifer...

piloted by a miniscule aged chauffer so ebullient and nimble that it became instantly apparent to me that he was indeed our anticipated caller.

With his ungulate motive power, travelling at what may have been more vertiginous velocity than patriotic alar predators, he vorcified loudly, expelled breath musically through contracted labia, and addressed each of the octet by his or her respective 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 32 cloven pedal extremities. As I retracted my cranium from its erstwhile location, and was performing a 180 degree pivot, our distinguished visitant achieved -- with utmost celerity and via a downward leap -- entry by the way of the smoke passage.

He was clad entirely in animal pelts soiled by the ebon residue from oxidations of carboniferous fuels which had accumulated on the walls thereof. His resemblence to a street vendor I attributed largely to the plethora of assorted playthings which he bore dorsally in a commodious cloth receptacle. His orbs were scilliant with reflected luminosity, while his submaxillary dermal indentations gave every evidence of engaging amiability.

The capillaries of his molar regions and nasal protuberance were engorged with blood which suffused in subcutaneous layers, the former approximating the coloration of Albion's floral emblem, the latter that of the Prunus Avium, or Sweet Cherry.

His amusing sub- and supra-labials resembled nothing so much as a common loop knot, and their ambient hirsute facial adornment appeared like small tabular and columnar crystals being.

Clenched firmly between his incisors was a smoking piece whose gray fumes, forming a tenuous ellipse about his occiput, were suggestive of a decorative seasonal circlet of holly.

His visage was wider than it was high, and when he waxed audibly mirthful, his corpulent abdominal region undulated in the manner of impectinated fruit syrup in a hemispherical container.

He was, in short, neither more or less than obese, jocund, multigenarial gnome, the optical perception of whom rendered me visibly frolicsome despite every effort to refrain from so being.

By rapidly lowering and then elevating one eyelid and rotating his head to one side he indicated that trepidation on my part was groundless.

Without utterance and with dispatch, he commenced filling the afore-mentioned hosiery with various of the afore-mentioned articles of merchandise extracted from his afore-mentioned previously dorsally transported cloth receptacle.

Upon completion of his task, he executed an abrupt about face, placed a singular manual digit in lateral juxtaposition to his olfactary organ, inclined his cranium forward in a gesture of leave-taking, and forthwith effected his egress by renegotiating, in reverse, the smoke passage.

He propelled himself in short vector onto his conveyence, directed a musical expulsion of air through his contracted oral sphincter to the antlered quadrupeds of burden, and proceeded to soar aloft in a movement hitherto observable chiefly among the seed-bearing portions of a common weed.

But I overheard his parting exclamation, audible immediatly prior to his vahiculation beyond the limits of visibility:

"Ecstatic Yuletide to the planetary constituency, and to that self-same assemblage, my sincerest wishes for a salubriously beneficial and gratifyingly pleasurable period between sunset and dawn!"

[SAMWolf]

Wow! Yours has got to be he Ultimate Politically Correct version.

[SAMWolf]

Those where great! ROTFL!!

[wittyone]

Ah, what the heck, let's leave the format for a bit...

===============================
THE TWELVE DAYS OF PC CHRISTMAS
===============================

On the 12th day of the Eurocentrically imposed midwinter festival, my Significant Other in a consenting adult, monogamous relationship gave to me:

TWELVE males reclaiming their inner warrior through ritual drumming,

ELEVEN pipers piping (plus the 18-member pit orchestra made up of members in good standing of the Musicians Equity Union as called for in their union contract even though they will not be asked to play a note),

TEN melanin deprived testosterone-poisoned scions of the patriarchal ruling class system leaping,

NINE persons engaged in rhythmic self-expression,

EIGHT economically disadvantaged female persons stealing milk-products from enslaved Bovine-Americans,

SEVEN endangered swans swimming on federally protected wetlands,

SIX enslaved Fowl-Americans producing stolen non-human animal products,

FIVE golden symbols of culturally sanctioned enforced domestic incarceration,

(NOTE: after members of the Animal Liberation Front threatened to throw red paint at my computer, the calling birds, French hens and partridge have been reintroduced to their native habitat. To avoid further Animal-American enslavement, the remaining gift package has been revised.)

FOUR hours of recorded whale songs,

THREE deconstructionist poets,

TWO Sierra Club calendars printed on recycled processed tree carcasses,

and...

ONE Spotted Owl activist chained to an old-growth pear tree.

Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Good Kwanzaa--Oh, heck! Happy Solstice!

(unless otherwise prohibited by law) *

*Unless, of course, you are suffering from Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). If this be the case, please substitute this gratuitous call for celebration with a suggestion that you have a thoroughly adequate day.

[nunya bidness]

'TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE SOLSTICE

- From James Finn Garner's book "Politically Correct Holiday Stories."

 

'Twas the night before solstice and all through the co-op
Not a creature was messing the calm status quo up

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
Dreaming of lentils and warm whole-grain breads.

We'd welcome 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 dree it all up like a seasonal stumpet.

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 mu 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 cellur phones.

He must have cashed in from his mercantile chores,
Since self-satisfaction just oozed from his pores.

He called each be name, as if he were right
To treat them like humans, entrenching his might:

"Now Donder, 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 this 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 here 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 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 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 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 its unnatural figure and airheaded grin,
This trollop make 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 had 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, goddness, 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've 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 chimmney like smoke from a fire,
And up on the rooftop 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 her 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 expoiter of elves?
"Happy Christmas to all, but get over yourselves!"

[wittyone]

=============================
TOP 14 ATHEIST HOLIDAY SONGS
=============================

14> O Little Town of Birmingham

13> I Don't Fear What You Fear

12> Oh, Krispy Kreme

11> Angels I Have Heard While High

10> Grandma Got Run Over By a Train, Dear

9> Oh Come *On*, All Ye Faithful!

8> Silent Night. Total F**king Silence.

7> Hark! The Victoria's Secret Angels Jiggle

6> We Kiss You a Mahir Christmas

5> Livin' La Vida Loca -- not that it has anything to do with atheism, but that Ricky Martin is HOT!

4> Whose Kid is This?

3> O Stoli Night

2> Amway -- I'm a Manager

...and the Number 1 Atheist Holiday Song...

1> Got Breasts, Ye Merry Gentlemen?

[wittyone]

===============================================
THE TOP 16 FORGOTTEN OLDE TYME CHRISTMAS CAROLS
===============================================

16> Pestilence Is Comin' to Town

14> Do You Smell What I Smell?

13> Blood Let Ye Merry Gentlemen

12> Giveth Thy Caroling Neighbors Money, or We'll Tell the Towne of Thy Predilection for Farme Animals

11> Chipmunks Roasting On An Open Fire

10> Daddy Lost His Fingers A-Makin' the Christmas Sausage

9> All I Want for Christmas is my Grog and Mead

8> Espied Have I Father Christmas and My Mother Dear Under the Candled Tree Embracing Nakedly

7> Joy to the World, Flat Disk That It Is

6> Best Friggin' Leave Some Friggin' Cookies for Santa This Friggin' Year, Ye Friggin' Ingrates

5> We Three Moyles of Orient Are

4> The Cloven Hoofe of a Reindeer Hath Laid My Mother's Mother to her Rest

3> Wake Up, Ye Merry Gentlemen -- My Husband Hath Arriveth Home Early!

2> Oh, Who Shall Cut the Christmas Cheese?

...and the Number 1 Forgotten Olde Tyme Christmas Carol...

1> Mistletoe, Schmistletoe: If I Feel Thy Tongue, Thy Head Will Roll

[wittyone]

===========================
FRACTURED CHRISTMAS CAROLS
===========================

No one can fracture a Christmas carol better than a kid. Sing along with these new takes on old favorites:

* Deck the Halls with Buddy Holly.

* We three kings of porridge and tar...

* On the first day of Christmas my tulip gave to me...

* Later on we'll perspire, as we dream by the fire.

* He's makin' a list, chicken and rice.

* Noel. Noel, Barney's the king of Israel.

* With the jelly toast proclaim...

* Olive, the other reindeer...

* Frosty the Snowman is a ferret elf, I say.

* Sleep in heavenly peas.

* In the meadow we can build a snowman, Then pretend that he is sparse and brown.

* You'll go down in listerine.

* Oh, what fun it is to ride with one horse, soap and hay.

[nunya bidness]

I like monkeys. The Pet store was selling them at five cents a piece. I thought that was odd, since they were normally a couple thousand. I decided not to look a gift horse in the the mouth. I bought 200. I like monkeys. I took my 200 monkeys home. I have a big car. I let one drive.
His name was Sigmund. He was retarded. In fact, none of them were really bright. They kept punching themselves in the gentials. I laughed. Then they punched me in the genitals. I stoped laughing. I hearded them into my room. They didn't adapt very well to their new environmemt. Theywould screech, hurl themselves off the couch at high speeds, and slam into the wall. although humorous at first, this spectacle lost it's novelty halfway into it's third hour. Two hours later, I found out why all the monkeys were so inexpensive: They all died. No apparent reason. Theyall just sorta' dropped dead. Kinda' like when you buy a goldfish, and it dies five hours later. Damn cheap monkeys. I didn't know what to do.
There were 200 dead monkeys lying all over my room, in the dresser, on the bed, hanging from my bookcase. It looked like I had 200 throw rugs. I tried to throw one down the toilet. It didn't work. It got stuck. Then I had one dead, wet monkey, and 199 dead, dry monkeys. I tried pretending they were stuffed animals. That worked for a while, that is until they began to decompose.
It started to smell real bad. I had to pee, but there was a dead monkey in the toilet and I didn't want to call the plumber. I was embarrassed. I tried to slow down the decomposition by freezing them. Unfortunately, there was only room in my freezer for two monekys at a time, so I had to change them every 30 seconds. I also had to eat all the food in the freezer so it didn't all go bad. I tried burning them. Little did I know my bed was flammable. I had to extinguish the fire. Then I had one dead, wet monkey in my toilet, two dead, frozem monkeys in my freezer, and 197 dead, charred monkeys in a pile on my bed.
The odor wasn't improving. I became agitated at my inability to dispose of the monkeys and to use the bathroom. I severely beat one of my monkeys. I felt better. I tried throwing them away, but the garbage man said the city was not allowed to dispose of charred primates. I told him I had a wet one. He couldn't take that one either. I didn't bother asking him about the frozen ones.
I finally arrived at a solution. I gave them out as christmas gifts. My friends didn't know quite what to say. They pretended they liked them, but I could tell they were lying. Ingrates. So I punched them in the genitals.

[ladyinred]

I love the second version! It is so funny because it is so true! Real life is always the best in poetry I think!

Let me be the first to wish you a Merry Christmas!

[wittyone]

==============================
A CHRISTMAS CAROL FOR ATHEISTS
==============================

God rest ye Unitarians, let nothing you dismay
Remember there's no evidence there was a Christmas day.
When Christ was born just is not known, no matter what they say,
Glad tidings of reason and fact, reason and fact,
Glad tidings of reason and fact.

There was no star of Bethlehem, there was no angel song,
There could have been no wise men, for the journey was too long,
The stories in the Bible are historically wrong,
Glad tidings of reason and fact, reason and fact,
Glad tidings of reason and fact.

Much of our Christmas custom comes from Persia and from Greece,
From solstice celebrations of the ancient Middle East,
Our so-called Christmas holiday is but a pagan feast,
Glad tidings of reason and fact, reason and fact,
Glad tidings of reason and fact.

[Jay W]

There's an Ebonics version of this floating around the internet, too.

Begins something like:

Wuz de night before Crimmus,
and all thru the hood
people be sleepin'
dey be sleepin' so good....