OH, THE STORIES ABOUT SANTA CLAUS
OH, THE STORIES ABOUT SANTA CLAUS
... Recommend this section to a friend.
I Think Santa Claus is a Woman ... pokes fun at Santa.
Now if you can just see it that way, with no prejudices, then the sun'll keep shining, everyone'll be happy, and Buddy stays out of trouble. Thank you, and G-d bless. I hate to be the one to defy sacred myth ... but your good friend in Brighton Beach here believes he's a she ... no question about it. We in New York don't take anything for granted ... if this guy (I'm saying a gal) is trying to put one over on us ... forget it, he/she's got some case ... let's look at it carefully, and objectively. All right now, this is the way I see it ... Christmas is a big, organized, warm, fuzzy, nurturing-social deal (anything but macho), and I have a tough time believing a guy could possibly pull it all off ... I know I couldn't. For starters ... the vast majority of us don't even think about selecting gifts until Christmas Eve. It's as if we are all frozen in some kind of Ebenezerian Time Warp until 3 p.m. on Dec. 24th, when ... with amazing calm ... we call other errant men and plan for a last-minute shopping spree ... now isn't that right? ... tell the truth. Once at the mall ... we always seem surprised to find only Ronco products, socket wrench sets, and mood rings left on the shelves ... You might think this would send us all into a fit of anxiety and guilt, but not so ... it's an enormous relief because it lessens the 11th hour decision making burden ... On this count alone, I'm convinced Santa is a woman. Surely, if he were a man, everyone in the universe would wake up Christmas morn to find a rotating musical Chia Pet under the tree, still in the bag. Another problem for a he-Santa would be getting there. First of all, there would be no reindeer because they would all be dead, gutted and strapped on the rear bumper of the sleigh amid wide-eyed desperate claims that buck season had been extended. Blitzen's rack would already be on the way to the taxidermist, and I'd be making plans where Rudolph and his red nose would look best on my den wall. Even if the male Santa DID have reindeer, he'd still have transportation problems because he would inevitably get lost up there in the snow and clouds and probably refuse to stop and ask for directions ... Add to this the fact that there would have to be unavoidable delays in the chimney, where the Bob Vila-like Santa would stop to inspect and repoint bricks in the flue. And he would also need to check for those carbon monoxide fumes in every gas fireplace, and get under every Christmas tree that is crooked to straighten it to a perfectly upright 90-degree angle. Would a man know when you are happy, know when you are sad ... know when you've been bad or good ... no , he's no man for goodess sake. You'll never find him dancing in a winter wonderland. There are other reasons Santa can't possible be a man: I can buy the fact that other mythical holiday characters are men ... Father Time shows up once a year unshaven and looking ominous, a definite guy; and Cupid flies around carrying weapons ... Uncle Sam is a politician who likes to point fingers ... they're not going around singing Jingle Bells ... forget it, man. Any one of these individuals could pass the testosterone screening test. But not St. Nick ... Nope, not a chance. He's too much for that good will, peace on earth ... faith, and Nat King Cole's version of "The Christmas Song" ... Let's say it the way it is - Everyone, all together now - "St Nicole is coming to town." But I do wish she'd quit dressing like a guy ... gives me the creeps. I'm including the following letter for all moms to send to that North Pole address ... You can, and should, revise it to suit your individual situation. Dear Santa: You know I've been a good Mom all year ... I've fed, cleaned, and cuddled my two children on demand, visited the doctor's office more than my doctor, then sold sixty-eight cases of candy bars to raise money to plant some shade trees on the school playground ... and figured out how to attach all nine patches onto my daughter's girl scout sash with staples and a glue gun. I was hoping you could spread my list out over several Christmases. Reason is I had to write this letter with my son's red crayon, on the back of a receipt in the laundry room between cycles, and who knows when I'll find anymore free time in the next 18 years. Here are my Christmas wishes: I'd like a pair of legs that don't ache after a day of chasing kids ... (in any color, except purple, which I already have) ... and arms that don't flap in the breeze, but are strong enough to carry a screaming toddler out of the candy aisle in the grocery store. I'd also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the seventh month of my last pregnancy. Should you be hauling big ticket items this year I'd like a car with fingerprint resistant windows and a radio that only plays adult music, and a television that doesn't broadcast any programs containing talking animals, and a refrigerator with a secret compartment behind the crisper where I can hide to talk on the phone. Now on the practical side, I could use a talking daughter doll that says, "Yes, Mommy" ... to boost my parental confidence, along with one fully potty-trained toddler, two kids who don't fight, and three pairs of jeans that will zip all the way up without the use of power tools. I could also use a recording of Tibetan monks chanting, "Don't eat in the living room" and 'Take your hands off your brother,' because my voice seems to be just out of my children's hearing range and can only be heard by the dog. And please don't forget the Playdoh Travel Pack, the hottest stocking stuffer this year for mothers of preschoolers. It comes in three fluorescent colors and is guaranteed to crumble on any carpet making the in-law's house seem just like mine. If it is too late to find any of these products, I'll settle for enough time to brush my teeth and comb my hair in the same morning, or the luxury of eating food warmer than room temperature without it being served in a Styrofoam container. If you don't mind I could also use a few Christmas miracles to brighten the holiday season. Would it be too much trouble to declare ketchup a vegetable?It will clear my conscience immensely. It would be helpful if you could coerce my children to help around the house without demanding payment as if they were the bosses of an organized crime family; it would help if my toddler didn't look so cute sneaking downstairs to eat contraband ice cream in his pajamas at midnight. Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is ringing and my son saw my feet under the laundry room door. I think he wants his crayon back. Have a safe trip and remember to leave your wet boots by the chimney and come in and dry off by the fire so you don't catch cold. And help yourself to cookies on the table, but don't eat too many or leave crumbs on the carpet ... I have enough work to do. Yours Always ... Mom Finally, this survey was made of selected women asking: "What would have happened if it had been three wise women instead of three wise men?" Yeah right ... that's what they would like you to believe. However, we know better, don't we. Check this out, it's what really would have happened. Whereas, on or about the night prior to Christmas, there did occur at a certain improved piece of real property (hereinafter "the House") ... a general lack of stirring by all creatures therein, including, but not limited to a mouse. A variety of foot apparel, e.g. stocking, socks, etc ... had been affixed and/or secured by, around, and in the approximate area of the chimney in said House, in the hope and/or belief that St. Nick a/k/a/ St. Nicholas a/k/a/ Santa Claus (hereinafter "Claus") would arrive at sometime thereafter. The said minor residents ... i.e. the children, of the aforementioned House were located in their individual beds and were engaged in (ahem) nocturnal hallucinations, i.e. dreams, wherein vision of confectionery treats, including, but not limited to, candies, nuts and/or sugar plums, did dance, cavort and otherwise appear in said dreams. Whereupon the party of the first part ... (sometimes hereinafter referred to as "I"), being the joint-owner in fee simple of the House with the parts of the second part (hereinafter "Mamma"), and said Mamma ... she had retired (gone to bed) for a sustained period of sleep. (At such time, the parties were clad in various forms of headgear, e.g. kerchief and cap.) Suddenly, and without prior notice, warning, or sign, there did occur upon the unimproved real property adjacent and appurtent to said House, i.e. the lawn, a certain disruption of unknown nature, cause and/or circumstance. The party of the first part did immediately rush to a window in the House to investigate the cause of such disturbance. At that time ... the party of the first part did observe, with some degree of wonder and/or disbelief, a miniature sleigh (hereinafter "the Vehicle") being pulled and/or drawn very rapidly through the air by approximately eight (8) reindeer ... The driver of this Vehicle appeared to be, and in fact was, to the satisfaction of all, the previously referenced Claus. Said Claus himself was providing specific direction, instruction and guidance to the approximately eight (8) reindeer, and he specifically indentified ... (to the satisfaction of any grand jury) ... the animal co-conspirators by name: Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner and Blitzen ... (hereinafter "the Deer") (Upon information and belief, it has been further asserted, purported, and alleged, that an additional co-conspirator named "Rudolph" may have been involved.) The party of the first part witnessed said Claus, and the Vehicle and the Deer intentionally (and willfully) trespass upon the roofs of several legally occupied residences and homes located adjacent to and in the vicinity of the House, and noted that the Vehicle was heavily laden with packages, toys and other sundry items of unknown origin or nature. Suddenly, without prior invitation or written permission, either express or implied ... the Vehicle arrived at the House, and Claus entered said House via the chimney. Said Claus was clad in a red fur suit, which was partially covered, coated, and surfaced with residue from the chimney, and he carried a large sack (pouch) containing a portion of the aforementioned packages, toys, and other unknown items. He was smoking what appeared to be tobacco in a small pipe in blatant violation of local ordinances and health regulations. Claus did not speak ... but immediately began to fill the stocking of the minor children, which hung adjacent to the chimney, with toys and other small gifts. (Said items did not, however, constitute "gifts" to said minor pursuant to the applicable provisions of the U.S. Tax Code.) Upon completion of such task, Claus touched the side of his nose and flew, rose and/or ascended up the chimney of the House to the roof where the Vehicle and Deer waited and/or served as "lookouts" ... Claus immediately departed for an unknown destination. However, prior to the departure of the Vehicle, Deer and Claus from said House, the party of the first part did hear Claus state and/or exclaim: "Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night." ... Or words to that effect. The stockings were hung by the modem with care, Quake III for Naomi, and EatemUp for Mitch, Which has now been re-routed to Washington State, After centuries of a life that was simple and spare, From where Bill has his mansion. The old fellow preens, No more dolls or tin soldiers or little toy drums, More rapid than eagles the competitors came, "It is Microsoft's SANTA that the kids can't resist, "Get 'em young, keep 'em long, is Microsoft's scheme, And Mama in her 'kerchief and I in my cap, As it turned toward that new Christmas star in the sky, And there on the screen was a smiling Bill Gates, We hunged up our stockins (all twenty), All o de fambily, I passed out onna flo, I looked out of de bars, And what did I see, Now ober all dese years, Faster dan a Po'lees car, On Leroy, on Lorenzo, W'en he landed dat wadda'melon, He diddin go down no chimbley, He had dis big bag, But he lef no prezens, Wit m' stuff in de bag, He jumped on dat wadda'melon, Nextes year I be hopin', Happy holidays, bro. While Mama worked late in her little cocina, To bring all the children, both buenos and malos, I ran to my window and looked out afuera, And pulling his sleigh, instead of venados, "!Ay, Pancho! !Ay, Pepe! !Ay, Cuca! !Ay, Beto! With his round little belly like a bowl of jalea, He filled all the stockings with lovely regalos, This is for all college students who will be going back home for Christmas, I know it can be a trying experience ... you might take the following advice. Go to the back of your closet, and take out those ugly sweaters and shirts that your parents gave you last Christmas, the ones you looked at once (Ugh). Then toss them into the washer with a few large stones, or run a sanding block over them a few times. Now you have to make sure that they look old and worn out when you get done (like you're ashamed to be seen, you don't belong etc.) And most important, make sure that you're WEARING these items WHEN you get to your parent's house, otherwise it won't work ... believe me. Try to give them the impression that you only had one shirt to wear all year (the one that THEY gave to you, of course). We want them to see how tough your money situation has been ... you are trying hard and all that stuff, right? If you do this right, just listen up, take my word now ... we Brooklyn guys have been there, seen it, done it, you know, all nine yards ... anyway, you will have an extra $50 or $100 in your pocket when you go back for the spring semester. You know, I know, whole damn campus knows ... you can always use the cash. Smell that tree? That's my fragrance, In the meadow dad will build a snowman, Straight from me to the fencepost, SCHIZOPHRENIA: MULTIPLE PERSONALITY DISORDER: DEMENTIA: NARCISSISTIC: MANIC: PARANOID: PERSONALITY DISORDER: DEPRESSION: PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE PERSONALITY: BORDERLINE PERSONALITY DISORDER: 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 …………….. (better start again) Oh no, you're not getting away ... Next Page ... Santa has a little more for you. If you are experiencing some ... Holiday Blues ... this page might prove helpful. All right, was this a rest stop? ... Navigator ... let's get on with our adventure.
In no way do I want to offend any group of people, and as we know, in some ways, we are all one people, so to offend anyone is to offend oneself. I ask those coming upon this page, to please read it knowing that all humor in one way or another pokes fun ... I suppose the only non-offensive humor is what pokes fun at oneself ... which, by the way, I am quite capable of doing ... it "sorta kinda" comes with the territory.
A Letter to Santa ... pokes fun at harried mothers.
A Christmas Survey ... pokes fun at those three wise men.
The Legal Night Before Christmas ... pokes fun at attorneys.
A Microsoft Christmas ... pokes fun at Bill Gates and all his moolah.
De Ebonics Night Befo' Crimmus ... pokes fun at Ebonic speaking Afro-Americans
Fue La Noche Ante Navidad ... pokes fun at Latinos.
A Bit of Advice from Uncle Buddy ... pokes fun at college students.
A Doggie Wonderland ... pokes fun at dogs.
Psychiatrically Challenged ... pokes fun at the psychiatrically challenged.
Santa Has a Weight Problem ... pokes fun at the gravitationally challenged.
A Christmas Alert ... sorry about this one; a warning: Christmas has been cancelled.
Happily Addicted to the Web and Santa Claus is Comin' to Town … pokes fun at me.
A Word About Holidays ... getting through the holidays without gaining 10 pounds.
A Word About Holiday Blues ... nothing funny here - and it happens every year.
The Real Santa Claus? ... I don't believe it, won't believe it, I will not believe it.
Santa's Gift ... this is a gift that Santa would like to give to Santa (not for kids).
Santa Claus is Comin' to Town - and finally (all kidding aside) the real poem: "and merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night" - Could anyone have written a more beautful poem? They would have asked directions,
They would have arrived on time,
They would have helped deliver the baby,
They would have cleaned the stable,
They would have made a casserole, and
They would have brought practical gifts. 'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, except Papa's mouse,
The computer was humming, the icons were hopping,
As Papa did last-minute Internet shopping.
In hope that St. Nicholas would bring new software,
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of computer games danced in their heads.
Quicken for Parker and a Pokemon for Rich,
The letters to Santa had been sent out by Mom,
To: santaclaus@toyshop.northpole.com.
Because Santa's workshop has been bought by Bill Gates,
All the elves and reindeer have had to skedaddle,
To flashy new quarters in suburban Seattle.
St. Nicholas is suddenly a new billionaire,
With a shiny red Porsche in the place of his sleigh,
And a house on Lake Washington that's just down the way.
In black Gucci boots and red Calvin Klein jeans,
The elves have stock options and service on the dot,
And they write computer code for Gabrielle and Scott.
Will be under the tree, only compact disk ROMS,
With the Microsoft label. So spin up your drive,
Because Christmas now requires at least Win95.
And Bill whistled, and shouted, and called them by name,
"Now, ADOBE now, CLARIS now, INTUIT too,
Now, APPLE and NETSCAPE you are all of you through."
It's the ultimate software with a traditional twist,
Recommended by no less than the jolly old elf,
And on the package is a picture of Santa himself."
And a merger with Santa is a marketer's dream,
To the top of the NASDAQ to the top of the Dow,
Now dash away! dash away! dash away - wow."
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
The whir and the hum of our satellite platter,
The SANTALITE owned by the Microsoft guy,
As I sprang from my bed and was turning around,
My computer turned on with a Jingle-Bells sound.
Next to jolly old Santa, two arm-in-arm mates,
And I heard them exclaim in voice so bright,
"Have a MICROSOFT CHRISTMAS, and TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT." Wus de nite befo Crimmus,
And all ora de 'hood,
Ereybody wus sleepin,
Dey wus sleepin reel good.
An hoped lik de hek,
Dat ol Sanna Claus,
Be bringin our chek.
Wus layin in dey beds,
While Ripple and Thunderbird,
Danced tru dey heads.
Right nex t'my Maw,
When I herd sech a fuss,
I thunk "it mus be de law."
What covered my do',
'Spectin de sheriff,
Wif a warrant fo sho.
I said "Lawd look at dat",
Ther wus a huge waddermelon,
Pulled by giant wharf rats.
Sanna Claus he be white,
But this'n look lak us bros,
We gets a black Sanna dis nite.
T'ward my house he done came,
He whupped on dem warf rats,
An called dem by name.
And on Willie Lee,
On Sapphire, on Cheneequa,
Dey wus a site to see!
Out dere in de skreet,
I knowed it wus de damndest site,
I ebber did see.
He picked de lock on my do',
An I sez to myself,
Shit, he done did dis befo'.
Full of prezens I 'xpect,
Wid Air Jordans, an' fake gold,
To wear 'roun my neck.
Jus started stealin my shit,
Got my drugs, got my guns,
Even got my burglar's kit.
Out de window he flew,
I woulda tried to ketch him,
But he stoled my 'nife, too.
An whipped ouda switch,
He wus gone inna second,
Dat sunnamabitch.
Annuda Sanna we'll git,
Cus dis here Sanna,
Jus' aint werf a shit. "Twas the night before Christmas, and all through la casa,
Not a creature was stirring; !Caramba! ?Que pasa?
Los niños were all tucked away in their camas,
Some in vestidos, and some in pijamas,
El Viejo was down at the corner cantina,
The stockings were hanging con mucho cuidado,
In hopes that St. Nicholas would feel obligado.
A nice batch of dulces and other regalos,
Outside in the yard there arose such a grito,
That I jumped to my feet like a frightened cabrito.
And who in the world do you think that it era?
St. Nick in a sleigh and big red sombrero,
Came dashing along like a crazy bombero.
Were eight little burros, approaching volados,
I watched as they came, and this quaint little hombre,
Was shouting and whistling and calling by nombre:
!Ay, Chato! !Ay, Chopo! !Ay, Maruca y Nieto!
Then standing up tall with his hand on his pecho,
He flew to the top of our very own techo.
He struggled to squeeze down our old chimenea,
Then, huffing and puffing, at last in our sala,
With soot smeared all over his red suit de gala.
He turned like a flash and was gone like vientos,
And I heard him exclaim … and this is verdad,
"Merry Christmas to all! !Feliz Navidad! Dog tags ring, are you listenin'?
In the lane, snow is glistenin',
It's yellow, not white - I've been there tonight,
Marking up my winter wonderland.
It's a sign for wand'ring vagrants,
"Avoid where I pee, it's my pro-per-ty,
Marked up as my winter wonderland."
following the classical design,
Then I'll lift my leg and let it go Man,
So all the world will know it's mine-mine-mine.
flows my natural incense boast,
"Stay off of my turf, this small piece of earth,
I marked it as my winter wonderland.
Do you hear what I hear?
We three queens, as disoriented as we are, bring gifts…
I think I'll be home for Christmas
Hark the herald angels sing about Me
Deck the halls and walls and house and lawn and,
streets and stores and office and town and cars and,
busses and trucks and trees and fire hydrants and...
Santa Claus is coming to get me.
You better watch out, I'm gonna cry,
I'm gonna pout, maybe I'll tell you why.
Silent night, holy night, all is flat, all is lonely.
On the first day of Chstmas my true love gave to me
(and then took it all away).
Thoughts of roasting on an open fire.
Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock,
Jingle bell rock, jingle bell rock,
Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock,
Jingle bell rock, jingle bell rock.
Jingle bell rock, jingle bell rock,
Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock,
Jingle bell rock, jingle bell rock.
Jingle bell rock, jingle bell rock,
Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock,
Jingle bell rock, jingle bell rock.
Jingle bell rock, jingle bell rock,
Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock,
Jingle bell rock, jingle bell rock.
Is there really a Santa Claus? ... and the month after Christmas,
And a tongue-in-cheek (yet serious) discussion on weight concerns.
On this whole website, I didn't know where to put it.
I know it's worth thinking about ... while eating dessert of course.