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BS: Get in the festive mood: Xmas jokes

Helen 25 Nov 99 - 05:50 PM
dw 25 Nov 99 - 06:36 PM

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Subject: Get in the festive mood: Xmas jokes
From: Helen
Date: 25 Nov 99 - 05:50 PM

I found these in my e-mails so I thought you all might want to get into the Christmas spirit a little early.

I'm fairly certain we have had the first one here at the 'Cat but it's worth repeating.

Helen

The "Politically Correct" Days of 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. Blessed Yule. Oh, heck! Happy Holidays!!!! (unless otherwise prohibited by law) *

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

###

Not long ago and far away, Santa was getting ready for his annual trip...but there were problems everywhere. Four of his elves got sick, and the trainee elves did not produce the toys as fast as the regular ones so Santa was beginning to feel the pressure of being behind schedule.

Then Mrs. Claus told Santa that her mom was coming to visit. This stressed Santa even more. When he went to harness the reindeer, he found that three of them were about to give birth and two had jumped the fence and were out, heaven knows where. More Stress.

Then when he began to load the sleigh one of the boards cracked and the toy bag fell to the ground and scattered the toys. So frustrated, Santa went into the house for a cup of coffee and a shot of whiskey.

When he went to the cupboard, he found the elves had hid the liquor and there was nothing to drink. In his frustration, he dropped the coffee pot and it broke into hundreds of little pieces all over the kitchen floor. He went to get the broom and found that mice had eaten the straw it was made from.

Just then the doorbell rang and Santa cussed on his way to the door. He opened the door and there was a little angel with a great big Christmas tree.

The angel said: "Where would you like to put this tree Santa?"

And that my friend, is how the little angel came to be on top of the Christmas tree.

###

57 ELM STREET BETHLEHEM, PA. 11:51 P.M., DECEMBER 24TH

We're too late! It's already been here.

Mulder, I hope you know what you're doing.

Look, Scully, just like the other homes: Douglas fir, truncated, mounted, transformed into a shrine; halls decked with boughs of holly; stockings hung by the chimney, with care.

You really think someone's been here?

Someone ... or something.

Mulder, over here-it's a fruitcake.

Don't touch it! Those things can be lethal.

It's O.K. There's a note attached: "Gonna find out who's naughty and nice."

It's judging them, Scully. It's making a list.

Who? What are you talking about?

Ancient mythology tells of an obese humanoid entity who could travel at great speed in a craft powered by antlered servants. Once each year, near the winter solstice, this creature is said to descend from the heavens to reward its followers and punish disbelievers with jagged chunks of anthracite. But that's legend, Mulder-a story told by parents to frighten children.

Surely you don't believe it?

Something was here tonight, Scully. Check out the bite marks on this gingerbread man. Whatever tore through this plate of cookies was massive-and in a hurry.

It left crumbs everywhere. And look, Mulder, this milk glass has been completely drained.

It gorged itself, Scully. It fed without remorse.

But why would they leave it milk and cookies?

Appeasement. Tonight is the Eve, and nothing can stop its wilding.

But if this thing does exist, how did it get in? The doors and windows were locked. There's no sign of forced entry. Unless I miss my guess, it came through the fireplace. Wait a minute, Mulder. If you're saying some huge creature landed on the roof and came down this chimney, you're crazy. The flue is barely six inches wide. Nothing could get down there.

But what if it could alter its shape, move in all directions at once?

You mean, like a bowl full of jelly?

Exactly. Scully, I've never told anyone this, but when I was a child my home was visited. I saw the creature. It had long white shanks of fur surrounding its ruddy, misshapen head. Its bloated torso was red and white. I'll never forget the horror. I turned away, and when I looked back it had somehow taken on the facial features of my father.

Impossible.

I know what I saw. And that night it read my mind. It brought me a Mr. Potato Head, Scully. It knew that I wanted a Mr. Potato Head!

I'm sorry, Mulder, but you're asking me to disregard the laws of physics. You want me to believe in some supernatural being who soars across the skies and brings gifts to good little girls and boys. Listen to what you're saying. Do you understand the repercussions? If this gets out, they'll close the X-files.

Scully, listen to me: It knows when you're sleeping. It knows when you're awake.

But we have no proof.

Last year, on this exact date, SETI radio telescopes detected bogeys in the airspace over twenty-seven states. The White House ordered a Condition Red.

But that was a meteor shower.

Officially. Two days ago, eight prized Scandinavian reindeer vanished from the National Zoo, in Washington, D.C. Nobody-not even the zookeeper-was told about it. The government doesn't want people to know about Project Kringle. They fear that if this thing is proved to exist the public will stop spending half its annual income in a holiday shopping frenzy. Retail markets will collapse. Scully, they cannot let the world believe this creature lives. There's too much at stake. They'll do whatever it takes to insure another silent night.

Mulder, I-

Sh-h-h. Do you hear what I hear?

On the roof. It sounds like ... a clatter.

The truth is up there. Let's see what's the matter.


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Subject: RE: BS: Get in the festive mood: Xmas jokes
From: dw
Date: 25 Nov 99 - 06:36 PM

helen, loved your blues joke, also. and in keeping with the christmas spirit-this came from a friend in my email the other day-glad to be able to share it with you all.

Naughty Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas, and God it was neat, The kids were both gone, and my wife was in heat. The doors were all bolted, and 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 poor 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 mangy reindeer.

With a fat little driver half out of his sled, A sock in his ear, and a bra on his head. Sure as I'm speaking, he was as high as a kite, And he yelled to his team, but it didn't sound right.

Whoa Shithead, whoa Asshole, whoa Stupid, whoa 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 jacket 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 here awhile."

He walked to the kitchen, 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 a six pack of panties, the edible kind. A bra without nipples, a penis extension, And several other things that I shouldn't even mention.

A fuck ring, a G-string, and all types of oil, A dildo so long, 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 tucked 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 the reigns of his hitch, Saying, "Take me home Rudolph, this nights been a BITCH!"

The sleigh was near gone when we heard Santa shout, "The best thing about sex is that it never wears out!"


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