A Politically Correct Christmas Poem

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 beautiful sleigh,
because the ruts were deemed dangerous by the EPA,
And millions of people were calling the Cops,
when they heard sled noises upon their roof tops.
Second-hand smoke from his pipe, had his workers quite frightened,
and his fur trimmed red suit was called "unenlightened".

To show you the strangeness of today's ebbs and flows,
Rudolf was suing over unauthorized use of his nose.
He went to Geraldo, in front of the Nation,
demanding millions in over-due workers compensation.

So...half of 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 that her title was Ms.

And as for gifts...why, he'd never had the notion
that making a choice could cause such commotion.
Nothing of leather, nothing of fur...
Which meant nothing for him or nothing for her.
Nothing to aim, Nothing to shoot,
Nothing that clamored or made lots of noise.
Nothing for just girls and nothing for just boys.
Nothing that claimed to be gender specific,
Nothing that's warlike or non-pacifistic.

No candy or sweets...they were bad for the tooth.
Nothing that seemed to embellish upon the 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 might 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 and perplexed,
he just couldn't figure out what to do next?
He tried to be merry he tried to be gay,
but you must have to admit he was having a very bad day.
His sack was quite empty, it was flat on the ground,
nothing fully acceptable was anywhere to be found.

Something special was needed, a gift that he might,
give to us all, without angering the left or the right.
A gift that would satisfy - with no indecision,
each group of people in every religion.
Every race, 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"

Christmas in Heaven

Three men died on Christmas Eve and were met by Saint Peter at the pearly gates.

"In honor of this holy season," Saint Peter said, "You must each possess something that symbolizes Christmas to get into heaven."

The first man fumbled through his pockets and pulled out a lighter. He flicked it on. "It represents a candle," he said.

"You may pass through the pearly gates," Saint Peter said.

The second man reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. He shook them and said, "They're bells."

Saint Peter said, "You may pass through the pearly gates."

The third man started searching desperately through his pockets and finally pulled out a pair of women's panties.

St. Peter looked at the man with a raised eyebrow and asked, "'And just what do those symbolize?"

The man replied, "These are Carol's."

Story Behind The 12 Days Of Christmas

We know of the song of the 12 days of Christmas. Below is the other
side of the story that everyone likes so much, from the recipients point
of view. As Paul Harvey would say.... and now, the rest of the story...

My dearest darling John:
Who ever in the whole world would dream of getting a real
Partridge in a Pear Tree? How can I ever express my pleasure.
Thank you a hundred times for thinking of me this way.
My love always,
Agnes
========================================================
December 15, 1972
Dearest John:
Today the postman brought your very sweet gift. Just imagine two
turtle doves. I'm just delighted at your very thoughtful gift.
They are just adorable.
All my love,
Agnes
=========================================================
December 16, 1972
Dear John:
Oh! Aren't you the extravagant one. Now I must protest. I don't
deserve such generosity, three French hens. They are just
darling but I must insist, you've been too kind.
All my love,
Agnes
=========================================================
December 17, 1972
Dear John:
Today the postman delivered four calling birds. Now really, they
are beautiful, but don't you think enough is enough. You are
being too romantic.
Affectionately,
Agnes
==========================================================
December 18, 1972
Dearest John:
What a surprise. Today the postman delivered five golden rings,
one for every finger. You're just impossible, but I love it.
Frankly, all those birds squawking were beginning to get on my
nerves.
All my love,
Agnes
========================================================
December 19, 1972
Dear John:
When I opened the door today there were actually six geese
laying on my front steps. So you're back to the birds again huh?
These geese are huge. Where will I ever keep them? The neighbors
are complaining and I can't sleep through the racket. Please
stop.
Cordially,
Agnes
========================================================
December 20, 1972
John:
What's with you and those freaking birds?? Seven swans a
swimming. What kind of damn joke is this? There's bird poop all
over the house and they never stop the racket. I can't sleep at
night and I'm a nervous wreck. It's not funny. So stop those
freaking birds.
Sincerely,
Agnes
=========================================================
December 21, 1972
O.K. Buster:
I think I prefer the birds. What the hell am I going to do with
8 maids a milking? It's not enough with all those birds and 8
maids a milking, but they had to bring their damn cows. There is
manure all over the lawn and I can't move in my own house. Just
lay off me, smartass.
Agnes
=========================================================
December 22, 1972
Hey Shithead:
What are you? Some kind of sadist? Now there's nine pipers
playing. And Christ do they play. They've never stopped chasing
those maids since they got here yesterday morning. The cows are
getting upset and they're stepping all over those screeching
birds. What am I going to do? The neighbors have started a
petition to evict me.
You'll get yours !
Agnes
==========================================================
December 23, 1972
You rotten prick:
Now there's ten ladies dancing. I don't know why I call those
sluts ladies. They've been balling those pipers all night long.
Now the cows can't sleep and they've got diarrhea. My living
room is a river of shit. The Commissioner of Buildings has
subpoenaed me to give cause why the building shouldn't be
condemned.
I'm calling the police on you !
Agnes
=========================================================
December 24, 1972
Listen Fuckhead:
What's with those eleven lords a leaping on those maids and
ladies? Some of those broads will never walk again. Those pipers
ran through the maids and have been committing sodomy with the
cows. All twenty-three of the birds are dead. They've been
trampled to death in the orgy. I hope you're satisfied, you
rotten vicious swine.
Your sworn enemy,
Agnes
=========================================================
December 25, 1972
Dear Sir:
This is to acknowledge your latest gift of twelve fiddlers
fiddling which you have seen fit to inflict on our client, Miss
Agnes McHolstein.
The destruction, of course, was total. All correspondence should
come to our attention. If you should attempt to reach Miss
McHolstein at Happy Dale Sanitarium, the attendants have been
instructed to shoot you on sight.
With this letter please find attached a warrant for your arrest.
Cordially,
Law Offices of Badger Bender & Chole

Santa's Ode

'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 "Thanks 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 the IRS sent me a letter.
They say I owe taxes--if that ain't damn funny
Who the hell ever sent Santa Claus any money?

And the kids these days--they all are the pits.
They want the impossible--Those mean little shits.
I spent a whole year making wagons and sleds,
Assembling dolls...Their arms, legs and heads.
I made a ton of yo yo's--No request for them,
They want computers and robots...they think I'm IBM!

Flying through the air...dodging the trees,
Falling down chimneys and skinning my knees,
I'm quitting this job there's just no enjoyment.
I'll sit on my fat ass and draw unemployment.

There's no Christmas this year now you know the reason,
I found me a blonde. I'm going SOUTH for the season

Tiger Woods' Holiday Poem

Twas the night of Thanksgiving and out of the house
Tiger Woods he came flying, chased by his spouse.

She wielded a nine iron and wasn’t too merry,
Because a bimbo’s phone number she found on his blackberry.

He’d been cheating on poor little Elin,
And as each day went by another whore came out squealing.

He’d been on Holly, on Jaimee, on Rachel, on Cori,
On Joselyn, and Kalika, TMZ had the story.

From the top of the world to above the fold,
Tiger’s ever more sordid tale, it was told.

With hostesses, waitresses, he had lots of sex,
And when he wasn’t hosing them, he sent them hot texts.

He crashed his Caddy, but didn’t call OnStar,
Yet he played “spank me daddy” with a skanky old porn star.

He’s been naughty, so with Santa he hasn’t a chance,
Except the big lump of coal that matches the lump in his pants.

But despite all his crying and begging and pleading,
Tiger’s wife went right out, bought a new home in Sweden.

And I heard her exclaim as she packed up the Escalade,
If you’re going to get laid, then I’m going to get paid.

Now she’s not pouting, in fact she’s of good cheer,
Because her prenup made Christmas come early this year.

Christmas Wishes For the Psychiactrically Challenged

SCHIZOPHRENIA -
Do You Hear What I Hear?

MULTIPLE PERSONALITY -
We Three Kings Disoriented Are.

DEMENTIA -
I Think I'll Be Home For Christmas.

NARCISSISTIC -
Hark The Herald Angels Sing (About Me)

MANIA -
Deck the Halls and Walls and House and Lawn and Streets and and Office and Town ...or Deck the Halls and Spare No Expense!

PARANOIA -
Santa Claus is Coming To Get Me.

PERSONALITY DISORDER -
You Better Watch Out, I'm Gonna Cry, I'm Gonna Pout, then MAYBE I'll tell you why.

DEPRESSION -
Silent anhedonia, Holy anhedonia. All is calm, All is pretty lonely.

OBSESSIVE COMPULSIVE DISORDER-
Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell... (YOU GET THE IDEA)

OBSESSIVE COMPULSIVE PERSONALITY-
The Twelve Days of Christmas
(don't make me repeat that again)

BORDERLINE PERSONALITY -
Thoughts of Roasting in an Open Fire.

PASSIVE/AGGRESSIVE -
Silent Night

Twas The Night Before Christmas - alternative version

Twas The Night Before Christmas
(as if written by a technical writer for a firm that does US government contracting)

'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 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 St. Nicholas.

The prepubescent 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 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, reflected as it was on the surface of a recent crystalline 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 eight diminutive specimens of the genus Rangifer, piloted by a minuscule, aged chauffeur 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 possibly have been more 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 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 way of the smoke passage. He was clad entirely in animal pelts soiled by the ebony residue from oxidations of carboniferous fuels which had accumulated on the walls thereof. His resemblance 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 scintillant with reflected luminosity, while his submaxillary dermal indentations gave every evidence of engaging amiability. The capillaries of his malar regions and nasal appurtenance were engorged with blood which suffused the 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 supralabials resembled nothing so much as a common loop knot, and their ambient hirsute facial adornment appeared like small, tabular and columnar crystals of frozen water.

Clenched firmly between his incisors was a smoking piece whose grey 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 nor less than an obese, jocund, multigenarian 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 slightly to one side, he indicated that trepidation on my part was groundless.

Without utterance and with dispatch, he commenced filling the aforementioned appended hosiery with various of the aforementioned articles of merchandise extracted from his aforementioned previously dorsally transported cloth receptacle. Upon completion of this task, he executed an abrupt about-face, placed a single manual digit in lateral juxtaposition to his olfactory organ, inclined his cranium forward in a gesture of leave-taking, and forthwith effected his egress by renegotiating (in reverse) the smoke passage. He then propelled himself in a short vector onto his conveyance, 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 immediately prior to his vehiculation 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."

A Christmas Poem by Paul Gilmartin

A Christmas Poem by Paul Gilmartin

Eggnog, tinsel, falling snow

Buttered rum and mistletoe

Christmas trees and hanging lights

The sound of carolers fills the night

Shopping hours long and hard

Visa phones and cancels card

Unpaid bills and mounting debts

Family gathers; depressions sets

Drinking starts, harsh words are said

Dysfunction rears its yuletide head

Argument turns to shovin'

Drunken brother punches cousin

Tree tips over, popping lights

Curtains catch, house ignites

No one hears the reindeer cries

Wedged in chimney, Santa dies

Though he kicked and did perspire

His chestnuts roasted on an open fire

Santa's Bad Day - the Birth Of a Tradition

One particular Christmas season a long time ago, 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 apple cider and a shot of rum. When he went to the cupboard, he discovered that the elves had hidden the liquor, and there was nothing to drink. In his frustration, he accidentally dropped the cider 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 end of the broom. Just then the doorbell rang, and irritable Santa trudged to the door. He opened the door, and there was a little angel with a great big Christmas tree.

The angel said, very cheerfully, "Merry Christmas, Santa. Isn't it a lovely day? I have a beautiful tree for you. Where would you like me to stick it?"
Thus began the tradition of the little angel on top of the Christmas tree.

Chrisnukah - The Merger

Chrisnukah

Continuing the current trend of large-scale mergers and acquisitions, it was announced today at a press conference that Christmas and Chanukah will merge. An industry source said that the deal had been in the works for about 1300 years.

While details were not available at press time, it is believed that the overhead cost of having twelve days of Christmas and eight days of Chanukah was becoming prohibitive for both sides. By combining forces, we're told, the world will be able to enjoy consistently high-quality service during the 15 Days of Chrisnukah, as the new holiday is being called.

Massive layoffs are expected, with lords a-leaping and maids a-milking being the hardest hit. As part of the conditions of the agreement, the letters on the dreydl, currently in Hebrew, will be replaced by Latin, thus becoming unintelligible to a wider audience.

Also, instead of translating to A great miracle happened there, the message on the dreydl will be the more generic Miraculous stuff happens. In exchange, it is believed that Jews will be allowed to use Santa Claus and his vast merchandising resources for buying and delivering their gifts. In fact, one of the sticking points holding up the agreement for at least three hundred years was the question of whether Jewish children could leave milk and cookies for Santa, even after having eaten meat for dinner. A breakthrough came last year when Oreos were finally declared to be kosher. All sides appeared happy about this development except for Santa's dentist. He then closed the press conference by leading all present in a rousing rendition of Oy, Come all Ye Faithful

MEMO: Office Christmas Party

Company Memo

FROM: Patty Lewis, Human Resources Director

TO: All Employees

DATE: October 1, 2009

RE: Gala Christmas Party

I'm happy to inform you that the company Christmas Party will take place on December 23rd , starting at noon in the private function room at the Grill House. There will be a cash bar and plenty of drinks! We'll have a small band playing traditional carols... feel free to sing along. And don't be surprised if our CEO shows up dressed as Santa Claus! A Christmas tree will be lit at 1:00 PM. Exchanges of gifts among employees can be done at that time; however, no gift should be over $10.00 to make the giving of gifts easy for everyone's pockets. This gathering is only for employees!

Our CEO will make a special announcement at that time!

Merry Christmas to you and your family,

Patty


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Company Memo

FROM: Patty Lewis, Human Resources Director

TO: All Employees

DATE: October 2, 2009

RE: Gala Holiday Party

In no way was yesterday's memo intended to exclude our Jewish employees. We recognize that Hanukkah is an important holiday, which often coincides with Christmas, though unfortunately not this year. However, from now on, we're calling it our "Holiday Party." The same policy applies to any other employees who are not Christians and to those still celebrating Reconciliation Day. There will be no Christmas tree and no Christmas carols will be sung. We will have other types of music for your enjoyment.

Happy now?

Happy Holidays to you and your family,

Patty


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Company Memo

FROM: Patty Lewis, Human Resources Director

TO: All Employees

DATE: October 3, 2009

RE: Holiday Party

Regarding the note I received from a member of Alcoholics Anonymous requesting a non-drinking table, you didn't sign your name. I'm happy to accommodate this request, but if I put a sign on a table that reads, "AA Only", you wouldn't be anonymous anymore. How am I supposed to handle this?

Somebody?

And sorry, but forget about the gift exchange, no gifts are allowed since the union members feel that $10.00 is too much money and the executives believe $10.00 is a little chintzy.

REMEMBER: NO GIFTS EXCHANGE WILL BE ALLOWED.


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Company Memo

FROM: Patty Lewis, Human Resources Director

To: All Employees

DATE: October 4, 2009

RE: Generic Holiday Party

What a diverse group we are! I had no idea that December 20th begins the Muslim holy month of Ramadan, which forbids eating and drinking during daylight hours. There goes the party! Seriously, we can appreciate how a luncheon at this time of year does not accommodate our Muslim employees' beliefs. Perhaps the Grill House can hold off on serving your meal until the end of the party or else package everything for you to take it home in little foil doggy baggy. Will that work?

Meanwhile, I've arranged for members of Weight Watchers to sit farthest from the dessert buffet, and pregnant women will get the table closest to the restrooms.

Gays are allowed to sit with each other. Lesbians do not have to sit with Gay men, each group will have their own table. Yes, there will be flower arrangement for the Gay men's table.

To the person asking permission to cross dress, the Grill House asks that no cross-dressing be allowed, apparently because of concerns about confusion in the restrooms. Sorry.

We will have booster seats for short people.

Low-fat food will be available for those on a diet.

I am sorry to report that we cannot control the amount of salt used in the food. The Grill House suggests that people with high blood pressure taste a bite first.

There will be fresh "low sugar" fruits as dessert for diabetics, but the restaurant cannot supply "no sugar" desserts. Sorry!

Did I miss anything?!?!?

Patty


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Company Memo

FROM: Patty Lewis, Human Resources Director

TO: All F*%^ing Employees

DATE: October 5, 2009

RE: The F*%^ing Holiday Party

I've had it with you vegetarian pricks!!! We're going to keep this party at the Grill House whether you like it or not, so you can sit quietly at the table furthest from the "grill of death," as you so quaintly put it, and you'll get your f*%^ing salad bar, including organic tomatoes. But you know, tomatoes have feelings, too. They scream when you slice them. I've heard them scream. I'm hearing them scream right NOW!

The rest of you f*%^ing wierdos can kiss my *ss. I hope you all have a rotten holiday!

Drive drunk and die,

The B*tch from H*ll!!!


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Company Memo

FROM: Joan Bishop, Acting Human Resources Director

DATE: October 6, 2009

RE: Patty Lewis and Holiday Party

I'm sure I speak for all of us in wishing Patty Lewis a speedy recovery and I'll continue to forward your cards to her.

In the meantime, management has decided to cancel our Holiday Party and give everyone the afternoon of the 23rd off with full pay.

Happy Holidays!

Joan

Jose Cuervo Christmas Cookies

Jose Cuervo Christmas Cookies

1 cup of water
1 tsp baking soda
1 cup of sugar
1 tsp salt
1 cup or brown sugar
4 large eggs
1 cup nuts
2 cups of dried fruit
1 bottle Jose Cuervo Tequila

Sample the Cuervo to check quality. Take a large bowl,
check the Cuervo again, to be sure it is of the highest quality,
pour one level cup and drink.

Turn on the electric mixer. Beat one cup of butter
in a large fluffy bowl.



Add one peastoon of sugar. Beat again. At this point
it's best to make sure the Cuervo is still ok, try another
cup just in case.

Turn off the mixerer thingy.

Break 2 leggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup
of dried fruit.

Pick the frigging fruit off the floor.

Mix on the turner.

If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaters just pry
it loose with a drewscriver.

Sample the Cuervo to check for tonsisticity.

Next, sift two cups of salt, or something. Who geeves
a sheet. Check the Jose Cuervo. Now shift the lemon juice and strain your nuts.

Add one table.

Add a spoon of sugar, or somefink. Whatever you can
find.

Greash the oven.

Turn the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to fall
over.

Don't forget to beat off the turner.

Finally, throw the bowl through the window, finish the
Cose Juervo and make sure to put the stove in the wishdasher.
Cherry Mistmas !

Holidays - Bad attitude

Christmas Hair

We coulda got a tree...but mama had to get her hair did...

Stop Giving Me Crap For Christmas

By Bobby Gaylor

Just when you think you know me
And I give you credit for being on the ball
Christmas rolls around, I open your gift
And I see, you don't know me at all
So if you don't listen to anything else
That I say all year long
Pay close attention to this
Because it's my real holiday wish…

STOP GIVING ME USELESS CRAP FOR CHRISTMAS!

(Chorus)
Stop giving me crap for Christmas
Useless crap
Stop giving me crap for Christmas

Forget the Clapper, I don't need to turn my lights off from bed
I don't want a Chia Dog, a Chia Sheep, a Chia Cow, or a Chia Head
And don't get some movie on video that's been marked down to $3.99
You wouldn't want to watch this piece of junk, why do you think I want to waste my time?
Now here's something that cuts me to the bone:
You order a subscription to Sports Illustrated,
You keep the magazine and give me the stupid football phone.
And I don't need Abs of Steel,
Buns of Steel,
Richard Simmons' Deal-a-Meal
Or absolutely anything made by Ron Popeil

STOP GIVING ME USELESS CRAP FOR CHRISTMAS!


I don't need a radar detector, a compass, or a dashboard Jesus
Or my intestines bound up by a box of Hickory Farm Cheeses
I don't need the Showtime Oven that cooks, like, 2 ducks, 12 garlic bulbs, and a turkey
Or a food dehydrator if it dries fruit or beef jerky
And please, no wall-mounted or counter-top spice racks
Or the Ab Roller, Ab Slide, Ab Rocker, Ab Dolly or the Torso Track
No calendars featuring supermodel bimbos or babies in hats
And no Christmas music by the Jingle Dogs or the Jingle Cats
And ask me my size.
I'm tying my shirt so my fingers don't even poke out of the sleeves
And hey, isn't this the fruitcake Uncle Mike gave you last Christmas Eve?
And if you're even remotely thinking about getting me that singing, joke-telling, wall-mounted bass,
Just remember what that rhymes with, because that's where I'm gonna stick it.

STOP GIVING ME USELESS CRAP FOR CHRISTMAS!

Alright, listen up.
I don't want anything proceeded by the word "decorative,"
Anything that comes with a stuffed bear or a troll doll that says "I love you."
No electronic devices that, when you push a button, say things like "Hey stupid!" or "Up yours!"
I don't want a pasta maker, a bread maker, a juice maker, a waffle maker, sandwich maker, salad maker, label maker, be a maker, wine maker,
Sausage maker, ice cream maker, pastry maker, salsa maker, coffee maker, sun tea maker
If I want that stuff, I'll buy it
I don't want anything that chops, beats, grinds, purees, minces, or slices
Cubes, shreds, blends, separates, juliennes, or dices
No 2-gallon bottles of generic shampoo "Now with 10% More!"
And nothing advertized with the slogan "Not available in any store!"
You know, they say it's the thought that counts,
So instead of making me cringe every year with what you bought,
Let's call it even forever and stop at the thought.

STOP GIVING ME USELESS CRAP FOR CHRISTMAS!

(Chorus)

Forget about the one-pound Hershey Kiss or the big pack of Life Savers,
And no smoked almonds in a dozen obscene artificial flavors,
I don't want a subscription to "Fielder's Dreams," "Sailing," or "Understanding Zen,"
And I stopped wearing pajamas when I was ten
And if you're thinking of anything from an infomercial by Tony Robbins, Body by Jake, Don Debris, Mary Lou Harris, Susanna Summers or Billy Blanks
I got two words for you: "No thanks!"
Here's something not to get me:
A coffee mug with a slogan that says something like,
"Don't talk to him, he hasn't had his coffee yet."
You're an idiot!

Turkey Recipe - Who says you can't have fun cooking

HAPPY THANKSGIVING..........Here is a recipe I thought you would like for the holidays

Ingredients:
1 whole turkey
1 large lemon, cut into halves
salt and pepper to taste
butter or olive oil, whichever you prefer

Heat oven to 350 degrees

Rub butter or oil over the skin of the turkey until it is completely coated.

Sprinkle with salt and pepper and any other seasonings you prefer.

Take a knife and gently separate the skin from the breast meat;

Slide lemon halves under the skin with the peel side up, one on

each side. This way the juice from the lemon will release into the breasts.


Cover and bake for 30-45 minutes. Remove cover and continue

to roast until juices run clear, basting every 15-20 minutes.


If you've followed these steps correctly, your turkey should

look like the one in the picture.

Bon Appetit!

Christmas Lights

Look at the house on the left...and then appreciate the house on the right...