stupid christmas stuff

Russ Spence

Commercial Pressure Wash Expert
12 Days of Christmas - A Cat's Rendition

On the twelfth day of Christmas my human gave to me:
Twelve bags of catnip!
Eleven tarter Pounce treats,
Ten ornaments hanging,
Nine wads of Kleenex,
Eight peacock feathers,
Seven stolen Q-tips,
Six feathered balls,
Five MILK JUG RINGS!
Four munchy house plants,
Three running faucets,
Two fuzzy mousies,
And a hamste-e-er in a plastic ball
 
CORPORATE MEMO

To: All Staff
Date: December 1
Subject: New "Twelve Days of Christmas" Policy


The recent announcement that Donner and Blitzen have elected to take the early reindeer retirement package has triggered a good deal of concern about whether they will be replaced, and about other restructuring decisions at the North Pole.

Streamlining is due to the North Pole's loss of dominance in the season's gift distribution business. Home Shopping TV channels and mail order catalogues have diminished Santa's market share. He and the Board could not sit idly by and permit further erosion of the profit picture.

The reindeer downsizing was made possible through purchase of a late model Japanese sled for the CEO's annual trip. Improved productivity from Dasher and Dancer, who summered at the Harvard Business School, is anticipated. Reduction in the reindeer will also lessen airborne environmental emissions for which the North Pole has received unfavorable press (gas and solid waste).

We're pleased to inform you that Rudolph's role will not be disturbed. Tradition still counts for something at the North Pole!

Management denies, in the strongest possible language, the earlier leak that Rudolph's nose get red, not from the cold, but from substance abuse. Calling Rudolph "a lush who was into the sauce and never did pull his share of the load" was an unfortunate comment, made by one of Santa's helpers and taken out of context at a time of the year when they are known to be under 'executive stress'.

As for further restructuring, today's global challenges require the North Pole to continue to look for better, more competitive steps. Effective immediately, the following economy measures are to take place in the "Twelve Days of Christmas" music subsidiary:

1) The partridge will be retained, but the pear tree, which never produced the cash crop forecasted, will be replaced by a plastic hanging plant, providing considerable savings in maintenance;

2) Two turtle doves represent a redundancy that is simply not cost effective. In addition, their romance during working hours could not be condoned. The positions are, therefore, eliminated;

3) The three French hens will remain intact. After all, everyone loves the French;

4) The four calling birds will be replaced by an automated voice mail system, with a call waiting option. An analysis is underway to determine who the birds have been calling, how often and how long they talked;

5) The five golden rings have been put on hold by the Board of Directors. Maintaining a portfolio based on one commodity could have negative implications for institutional investors. Diversification into other precious metals, as well as a mix of T-Bills and high technology stocks, appear to be in order;

6) The six geese-a-laying constitutes a luxury which can no longer be afforded. It has long been felt that the production rate of one egg per goose per day was an example of the general decline in productivity. Three geese will be let go, and an upgrading in the selection procedure by personnel will assure management that, from now on, every goose it gets will be a good one;

7) The seven swans-a-swimming is obviously a number chosen in better times. The function is primarily decorative. Mechanical swans are on order. The current swans will be retrained to learn some new strokes, thereby enhancing their outplacement;

8) As you know, the eight maids-a-milking concept has been under heavy scrutiny by the EEOC. A male/female balance in the workforce is being sought. The more militant maids consider this a dead-end job with no upward mobility. Automation of the process may permit the maids to try a-mending, a-mentoring or a-mulching;

9) Nine ladies dancing has always been an odd number. This function will be phased out as these individuals grow older and can no longer do the steps;

10) Ten Lords-a-leaping is overkill. The high cost of Lords, plus the expense of international air travel, prompted the Compensation Committee to suggest replacing this group with ten out-of-work congressmen. While leaping ability may be somewhat sacrificed, the savings are significant as we expect an oversupply of unemployed congressmen this year;

11) Eleven pipers piping and twelve drummers drumming is a simple case of the band getting too big. A substitution with a string quartet, a cutback on new music, and no uniforms, will produce savings which will drop right to the bottom line;

Overall we can expect a substantial reduction in assorted people, fowl, animals and related expenses. Though incomplete, studies indicate that stretching deliveries over twelve days is inefficient. If we can drop ship in one day, service levels will be improved.

Regarding the lawsuit filed by the attorney's association seeking expansion to include the legal profession ("thirteen lawyers-a-suing"), a decision is pending.

Deeper cuts may be necessary in the future to remain competitive. Should that happen, the Board will request management to scrutinize the Snow White Division to see if seven dwarfs is the right number.


Happy Holidays all!!
 
Al Bundy's Christmas Eve

'Twas the night before Christmas,
And all through the house,
No food was a-stirrin',
Not even a mouse.

Stockings were hung round
Dad's neck like a tie,
Along with a note that said,
"Presents or die."

Children were plotting
All night in their beds,
While the wife's constant whining
Was splitting his head.

But daddy had money
This year in the bank,
Then they closed up early,
And now dad's in a tank.

All of a sudden,
Santa appeared,
A sneer on his face,
Booze in his beard.

"Santa," I said,
As he laughed merrily,
"You do so much for others,
Do something for me."

"Bundy," he said,
"You only sell shoes,
Your son is a sneak thief,
Your daughter's a floose."

"Ho ho," Santa said,
"Should I mention your wife?
Her hair's like an A-bomb,
Her nails like a knife."

He climbs up the chimney,
That fat piece of dung,
He mooned me two times,
He stuck out his tongue.

I heard him exclaim,
As he broke wind with glee,
"You're married with children,
You'll never be free."
 
A Parents Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house
I searched for the tools to hand to my spouse.
Instructions were studied and we were inspired,
In hopes we could manage "Some Assembly Required."

The children were quiet (not asleep) in their beds,
While 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!
 
The Effect Of Inflation On Santa
Written by: Dave Sharpe, Tarnation Magazine, 1948.

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house
how the tinsel was scattered! and twigs by the thous-
and. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care-
They were skewered with ten-penny nails, to be fair.
The children, God bless them, were snug in their beds,
With clothesline to anchor the ankles and heads.

The Wife in her housecoat, and I clad alike,
Had gone to cellar to get the new bike,
When from a dark corner arose such a clatter
I felt a strong urge to forget the whole matter.

The wife said go over and open the door;
I grabbed a stout cudgel and crept 'cross the floor
And gingerly peered through the glass to behold
A wee red-suited man, turning blue with cold.
Suppressing my dire thoughts of a communist trick,
I flung wide the portal, admitting..... St. Nick!

Poor Santa came in stamping snow from his feet
And cursing cold weather and all central heat.
"Your chimney's too small for a man of my girth"---
Which shows what the power of tradition is worth.

I asked him to stay, as the perfect host ought,
And my gimlet eyes gleamed at the parcels he brought.
Upstairs in the kitchen, hot toddy in hand,
Old Santa had both of us folks understand

That the new station wagon he'd purchased this year
To replace his eight quaint reindeer
was the poorest investment he ever had chosen--
It stalled by our house the engine plumb frozen.

My wife asked him then if the high cost of living,
Had interfered much with the job of gift-giving.
"I'll say so," quoth he. "Why, a plain roller skate is
costing me
$40.98;
And the cheapest new belt, since inflation intruded,
Costs $11.27, all taxes included;
My labor is raising all manor of hob--
In fact, this here Christmas is too big a job."

He talked a while longer, but then had to go
When a wrecker from town came to give him a tow.
He left a tin whistle for Joey, our son,
And a watch for Matilda--I bet it won't run;

For the Wife, a new apron that makes her flesh crawl,
And a tie for yours truly completed our haul.
But I heard him exclaim, as he rolled out of sight,
"The blazes with Christmas--Tarnation is right!"
 
The Week Before Christmas
Written by: Joyce Luke

'Twas the week before Christmas and all through the school
Not a pupil was silent, no matter what rule.
The children were busy with paper and paste;
The mess that they made with it couldn't be faced.
The teacher half frantic and almost in tears,
Had just settled down to work with her dears,
When out in the hall there arose such a clatter
That up sprang the kids to see what was the matter!

Away to the doorway they flew like a flash;
The one who was leading went down with a crash.
Then what to their wondering eyes did appear
But a green Christmas tree! (To decorate I fear!)

When the teacher saw this, she almost grew sick.
She knew in a moment it must be Old Nick!
She ran to the door (all her efforts were vain)
But she shouted, and stamped, and she called them by name;

"Now Tommy! Now Sandy, Now Judy and Harry!
Stop Billy! Stop Robert! Stop Donny and Sherry!
Now get to your places get away from the hall
Now get away! Get away! Get away all!

As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly
The pupils, pell mell, started scurrying by.
They ran to the blackboard and skipped down the aisle;
Their faces were shining and each had a smile.

First came a basket of popcorn to string
Then came the Christmas tree (menacing thing).
As the tree was brought in there arose a great shout;
The pupils were merrily romping about.

The state they were in could lead to a riot;
The teacher was sure, if allowed, they would try it.
Her nerves how they jangled! Her temples were throbbing!
The rush of her breath sounded almost like sobbing!

The lines of her face were as fixed as a mask;
It was plain that she didn't feel up to her task.
The look in her eye would have tamed a wild steer,
But the children ignored it; they did every year.

A tear from her eye and a shake of her head
Soon led me to think that she wished she were dead.
She spoke not a word but went straight to her work,
Strung all the popcorn which broke with a jerk.

But at last it was finished and placed on the tree;
Then came the bell and the children were free.

Their shrill little voices soon faded away
And peace was restored at the end of the day.
As she looked at the Christmas tree glistening and tall,
She smiled as she whispered, Merry Christmas to all!
 
'Twas the Night before Christmas, And Santa's Pissed

Twas the night before Christmas
old Santa was pissed,
He cussd 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 "Thanks Santa" what do I hear..

The old lady bitches
cause I work late at night
the elves want more money
And the reindeer all fight.

Rudolph got drunk
and goosed all the maids.
Donner is Pregnant
Vixon has AIDS

And just when I thought
That things would get better,
The IRS,
They sent me a letter.

They say I owe taxes,
If that aint damn funny..
Who the hell ever
Sent Santa any money?

And the kids these days,
They all are the pits.
They want the impossible,
Those mean little ****s.

I spent a whole year
Making wagons and sleds
with no request for them
They want computers and Robots,
They think I am IBM

If you think that is bad
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 quit this job,
There is just no enjoyment
I'm going to sit on my fat ass
And collect unemployment

There is NO Christmas this year
Now you know the reason
I found me a blonde
and heading SOUTH for the season....
 
'Twas The (Politically Correct) Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas and Santa's a wreck...
How to live in a world that's politically correct?
His workers no longer would answer to "Elves".
"Vertically Challenged" they were calling themselves.
And labor conditions at the north pole
Were alleged by the union to stifle the soul.

Four reindeer had vanished, without much propriety,
Released to the wilds by the Humane Society.
And equal employment had made it quite clear
That Santa had better not use just reindeer.

So Dancer and Donner, Comet and Cupid,
Were replaced with 4 pigs, and you know that looked stupid!

The runners had been removed from his sleigh;
The ruts were termed dangerous by the E.P.A.
And people had started to call for the cops
When they heard sled noises on their roof-tops.

Second-hand smoke from his pipe had his workers quite frightened.
His fur trimmed red suit was called "Unenlightened."

And to show you the strangeness of life's ebbs and flows,
Rudolf was suing over unauthorized use of his nose
And had gone on Geraldo, in front of the nation,
Demanding millions in over-due compensation.

So, half of the reindeer were gone; and his wife,
Who suddenly said she'd enough of this life,
Joined a self-help group, packed, and left in a whiz,
Demanding from now on her title was Ms.

And as for the gifts, why, he'd ne'er had a notion
That making a choice could cause so much commotion.
Nothing of leather, nothing of fur,
Which meant nothing for him. And nothing for her.

Nothing that might be construed to pollute.
Nothing to aim. Nothing to shoot.
Nothing that clamored or made lots of noise.
Nothing for just girls. Or just for the boys.

Nothing that claimed to be gender specific.
Nothing that's warlike or non-pacific.



No candy or sweets...they were bad for the tooth.
Nothing that seemed to embellish a truth.
And fairy tales, while not yet forbidden,
Were like Ken and Barbie, better off hidden.

For they raised the hackles of those psychological
Who claimed the only good gift was one ecological.

No baseball, no football...someone could get hurt;
Besides, playing sports exposed kids to dirt.
Dolls were said to be sexist, and should be passe;
And Nintendo would rot your entire brain away.

So Santa just stood there, disheveled, perplexed;
He just could not figure out what to do next.

He tried to be merry, tried to be gay,
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."
 
Back
Top