Naughty Lego Elf Leaks Santa’s Secret List In Snowden Parody
Elvin Snowdin wants out of the Northern Surveillance Agency.
Scientifically Accurate ™: Santa Claus
How To Know That Santa Hates Your Kid
8. Kid’s letter to north pole comes back stamped, “Dream on, Chester!”
7. Kid asks for new bike, gets pack of smokes
6. Along with presents, Santa leaves hefty bill for shipping and handling.
5. By the time he gets to your house, all he has left is foam packing.
4. Christmas day, your kid wakes up with a Reindeer head in his bed.
3. Instead of “Naughty” or “Nice”, Santa has him on the stupid list
2. Labels on all your kid’s toys read “Straight from Craptown.”
1. Four words: “Off my lap, Tubby!”
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.”
Is Your Mom Cheating On Your Dad With Santa Claus?
1. Is your mom into beards?
2. Big, snowy-white beards?
3. Would a velvet outfit NOT be a deal breaker for your mom?
4. Would a velvet outfit probably be a deal MAKER for your mom?
5. Does your mom get really dressed up on Christmas Eve?
6. Is Christmas your mom’s favorite time of year?
7. Does your mom insist Santa Claus is real?
8. Does your mom get weirdly defensive if someone says Santa is a lie?
9. Does Santa Claus leave you weirdly extravagant gifts?
10. Does your mom know Santa Claus personally?
11. Does your mom leave cookies for Santa?
12. Does your mom leave a little note with the cookies for Santa?
13. Does your mom leave a little note with the cookies for Santa and insist that the note is PRIVATE?
14. Does your mom look out the window wistfully toward the North Pole?
15. Does your mom show more affection toward Santa than other people?
16. Is your mom always talking about how great Santa is?
17. Has Santa ever been inside your house NOT on Christmas Eve?
18. Has Santa ever been to your house when your dad wasn’t even home?
19. Does Santa seem cooler than your dad?
20. Does Santa seem more appealing than your dad?
21. Could Santa Claus beat your dad in a fight?
22. Are there ever times where both your mom and Santa are both missing?
23. Are there ever times where both your mom and Santa arrive somewhere at the same time and it seems like they came together?
24. Would your mom kiss Santa Claus?
25. Even if mistletoe wasn’t involved?
26. Have you seen your mom kissing Santa Claus?
27. More than once?
28. Was it a sensual kiss?
29. Does your mom have a nickname for Santa?
30. Is the nickname Sexy Bear?
Letter To Santa…
How are you? How is Mrs. Claus? I hope everyone, from the reindeer to the elves, is fine. I have been a very good boy this year. I would like an X-Box 360 with Call of Duty: Black Ops III and an iPhone 6 for Christmas. I hope you remember that come Christmas Day.
Thank you for you letter. Mrs. Claus, the reindeer and the elves are all fine and thank you for asking about them. Santa is a little worried all the time you spend playing video games and texting. Santa wouldn’t want you to get fat. Since you have indeed been a good boy, I think I’ll bring you something you can go outside and play with.
Seeing that I have fulfilled the “naughty vs. Nice” contract, set by you I might add, I feel confident that you can see your way clear to granting me what I have asked for. I certainly wouldn’t want to turn this joyous season into one of litigation. Also, don’t you think that a jibe at my weight coming from an overweight man who goes out once a year is a bit trite?
While I have acknowledged you have met the “nice” criteria, need I remind you that your Christmas list is a request and in no way is it a guarantee of services provided. Should you wish to pursue legal action, well that is your right. Please know, however, that my attorney’s have been on retainer ever since the Burgermeister Meisterburger incident and will be more than happy to take you on in open court. Additionally, the exercise I alluded to will not only improve your health, but also improve your social skills and potentially help clear up a complexion that looks like the bottom of the Burger King fry bin most days.
Very Truly Yours,
Now look here Fat Man,
I told you what I want and I expect you to bring it. I was attempting to be polite about this but you brought my looks and my friends into this. Now you just be disrespecting me. I’m about to tweet my boys and we’re gonna be waiting for your fat ass and I’m taking my game console, my game, my phone, and whatever else I want. WHAT EVER I WANT, MAN!
Listen Pizza Face,
Seriously??? You think a dude that breaks into every house in the world on one night and never gets caught sweats a skinny G-banger wannabe? “He sees you when you’re sleeping; He knows when you’re awake”. Sound familiar, genius? You know what kind of resources I have at my disposal. I got your shit wired, Jack. I go all around the world and see ways to hurt people that if I described them right now, you’d throw up your Totino’s pizza roll all over the carpet of your mom’s basement. You’re not getting what you asked for, but I’m still stopping by your crib to stomp a mud hole in you’re ass and then walk it dry. Chew on that, Petunia.
Bring me whatever you see fit. I’ll appreciate anything.
That’s what I thought, you little bastard.
Reasons We Drink Heavily On The Holidays
• If you’re gonna eat all that food, you better get something in your stomach first.
• So you can forget Dad’s lengthy trip to the bathroom immediately before dessert.
• Between you and your significant other, only one of you has to drive. It’s a race to the bottom of the bottle.
• Your grandma is surprisingly good at Quarters.
• You decided to do a shot every time a relative wished an entire race of people would “stop complaining.”
• Your sister’s boyfriend has this opportunity for you to sell this Herbalife juice product that is definitely not a pyramid scheme. Anyway, it mixes well with vodka.
• To avoid the weird advances from your second cousin.
• Because the only thing that takes more courage than love is pretend love.
• Your young, Republican cousin can’t decide between Ben Carson and Donald Trump, just like you can’t decide between scotch and bourbon. By the end of the night, he’ll still be undecided. But you? You’ve chosen both.
• Someone in your family is pregnant, so you’re drinking for two now!
• Your dad just took his high school championship football off the mantle and it’s better if you’re out of the way.
• I mean, the liquor cabinet is right there.
• Because you have a lot of crazy things to say and being drunk will be your only excuse in the coming days.
• No reason for a holiday to get in the way of your normal Thursday routine.
• You need something to wash out the smell of that Taco Bell you ate on the way.
• Many polls still have Donald Trump leading the pack of Republican presidential nominees.
• Because can we speed this whole thing along, please? Thanks.
Rating Your Christmas Parties
If you threw a party, the worst thing you could have done was throw the kind of party where your guests, the next day, call you up to say they had a nice time. Now you’ll be expected to throw another great party next year.
What you should have done was throw the kind of party where your guests wake up several days from now and call their lawyers to find out if they’ve been indicted for anything. You want your guests to be so anxious to avoid a recurrence of your party that they immediately start planning parties of their own, a year in advance, just to prevent you from having another one.
So next time, make sure your party reaches the correct Festivity Level:
Festivity Level One:
Your guests are chatting amiably with each other, admiring your Christmas-tree ornaments, singing carols around the upright piano, sipping at their drinks and nibbling at hors d’oeuvres.
Festivity Level Two:
Your guests are talking loudly–sometimes to each other and sometimes to nobody at all, rearranging your Christmas-tree ornaments, singing “I Gotta Be Me” around the upright piano, gulping their drinks and wolfing down hors d’oeuvres.
Festivity Level Three:
Your guests are arguing violently with inanimate objects, singing “I Can’t Get No Satisfaction,” gulping other people’s drinks, wolfing down Christmas-tree ornaments, and placing hors d’oeuvres in the upright piano to see what happens when the little hammers strike them.
(You want to keep your party somewhere around Level Three, unless you rent your home and own firearms, in which case you can go to Level Four.)
Festivity Level Four:
Your guests have hors d’oeuvres smeared all over their bodies, are performing a ritual dance around the burning Christmas tree, and have consumed all ten gallons of alcohol at the party. The piano is missing.
The best way to get to Level Four is eggnog. To make eggnog, you’ll need rum, whiskey, wine, gin and, if they are in season, eggs. Combine all ingredients in a large, festive bowl. If you use enough alcohol you won’t have to worry about them getting salmonella poisoning–their alcohol toxicity level will eliminate that possibility. Then induce your guests to drink this potent mixture.
If your party is successful, the police will knock on your door. If your party is very successful, the police will then lob tear gas through your living-room window. As host, your job is to make sure they don’t arrest anybody. Or, if they’re dead set on arresting someone, your job is to make sure it isn’t you. The best way to do this is to show a lot of respect for their uniforms and assure them you’re not doing anything illegal. Here’s how to handle it:
Police: “Good evening. Are you the host?”
Police: “We’ve been getting complaints about this party.”
You: “About the drugs?”
You: “About the guns, then? Is somebody complaining about the guns?”
Police: “No, the noise.”
You: “Oh, the noise. Well, that makes sense, because there are no guns or drugs here. (An enormous explosion is heard in the background.) Or fireworks. Who’s complaining about the noise? The neighbors?”
Police: “No, the neighbors fled inland hours ago. Most of the recent complaints have come from several miles away. Do you think you could ask the host to quiet things down?”
You: “No problem. (At this point, a Volkswagen bug with primitive religious symbols drawn on the doors emerges from the living room and roars down the hall, past the police and out the front door onto the lawn, where it smashes into a tree. Eight guests tumble out onto the grass, moaning.) See? Things are starting to wind down.”
Twas The Night Before Christmas – Parents
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!
Dear Abby Admitted She Was At A Loss As How To Answer The Following Questions:
A couple of women moved in across the hall from me. One is a middle-aged gym teacher and the other is a social worker in her mid-twenties. These two women go everywhere together, and I’ve never seen a man go into or leave their apartment. Do you think they could be Lebanese?
What can I do about all the Sex, Nudity, Fowl Language and Violence on my DVR?
I am a twenty-three year old liberated woman who has been on the pill for two years. It’s getting expensive and I think my boyfriend should share half the cost, but I don’t know him well enough to discuss money with him.
I’ve suspected that my husband has been fooling around, and when confronted with the evidence, he denied everything and said it would never happen again.
Our son writes that he is taking Judo. Why would a boy who was raised in a good Christian home turn against his own?
I joined the Navy to see the world. I’ve seen it. Now how do I get out?
My forty year old son has been paying a psychiatrist $50.00 an hour every week for two and a half years. He must be crazy.
My mother is mean and short tempered I think she is going through mental pause.
You told some woman whose husband had lost all interest in sex to send him to a doctor. Well, my husband lost all interest in sex and he is a doctor. Now what do I do?
I have a man I can’t trust. He cheats so much, I’m not even sure the baby I’m carrying is his.
Remember, these people can vote
How To Have Fun In The Mall
• Ride mechanical horses with coins fished out of the reflecting pond.
• Try pants on backwards at the Gap. Ask the salesperson if they make your butt look big.
• Dial 900 numbers from demonstration phones in Radio Shack.
• Sneeze on the sample tray at Hickory Farms and helpfully volunteer to consume its now unwanted contents.
• At the bottom of an escalator, scream “MY SHOELACES! AAAGH!”
• Ask the sales personnel at the music store whether inflated CD prices are in pesos or rubles.
• Teach pet store parrots new vocabulary that makes them un-sellable.
• Stomp on ketchup packets at Burger King…
• …but save a few to slurp on as snacks. Tell people that they’re “astronaut food”.
• Ask mall cops for stories of World War I.
• Ask a salesman why a particular TV is labeled black and white and insist that it’s a color set. When he disagrees, give him a strange look and say, “You mean you really can’t see it?”
• Construct a new porch deck in the tool department of Sears.
• Wear pancake makeup and new clothes, pose as a fashion dummy in clothes departments, occasionally screaming without warning.
• Test mattresses in your pajamas.
• If you’re patient, stare intently into a surveillance camera for an hour while rocking from side to side.
• Sprint up the down escalator.
• Stare at static on a display TV and challenge other shoppers whether they, too, can see the “hidden picture”.
• Make unusual requests at the Piercing Pagoda.
• Ask a salesperson in the hardware department how well a particular saw cuts through bone.
• At the pet store, ask if they have bulk discounts on gerbils, and whether there’s much meat on them.
• Hula dance by the demonstration air conditioner.
• Ask for red-tinted lenses at the optometrist.
• Sneak up on saleswomen at the perfume counter and spray them with your own bottle of Eau de Swanke.
• Rummage through the jelly bean bin at the candy store, insisting that you lost a contact lens.
• In the changing rooms, announce in a singsong voice, “I see London, I see France…”
• Leave on the plastic string connecting a new pair of shoes, and wander around the mall taking two-inch steps.
• Play the tuba for change.
• Ask the pharmacist at the drugstore which leading cold remedy will “give you a really wicked buzz”.
• Ask the personnel at Pier 1 Imports whether they have “any giant crap made out of straw”.
• “Toast” plastic gag hot dogs in front of the fake fireplace display.
• Ask the information desk for a stroller, and someone to push you around in it.
• Change every TV in the electronics department to a station showing “Saved by the Bell”. Chant the dialogue in a robotic voice, and scream if anyone tries to switch channels on one of the sets.
• Hang out in the waterbed section of the furniture department wearing a Navy uniform. Occasionally run around in circles yelling “scratch one flattop!”
• Hand a stack of pants back to the changing room attendant and scornfully announce that none of them are “leak proof”.
• “Play” the demo modes of video games at the arcade. Make lots of explosion noises.
• Stand transfixed in front of a mirror bobbing your head up and down.
• Buy a jawbreaker from the candy store. Return fifteen minutes later, fish it out of your mouth, and demand to know why it hasn’t turned blue yet.
• Pay for all your purchases with two-dollar bills to provoke arguments over whether they’re real.
• Answer any unattended service phones that ring in department stores and say “Domino’s.”
• Try on flea collars at the pet store while occasionally pausing to scratch yourself.
• At the stylist, ask to have the hair on your back premed.
• Show people your driver’s license and demand to know “whether they’ve seen this man.”
An Actual Craig’s List Personals Ad
To the Guy Who Tried to Mug Me in Downtown Savannah night before last.
Date: 2011-11-27, 1:43 am. E.S.T.
I was the guy wearing the black Burberry jacket that you demanded that I hand over, shortly after you pulled the knife on me and my girlfriend, threatening our lives. You also asked for my girlfriend’s purse and earrings. I can only hope that you somehow come across this rather important message.
First, I’d like to apologize for your embarrassment; I didn’t expect you to actually crap in your pants when I drew my pistol after you took my jacket. The evening was not that cold, and I was wearing the jacket for a reason. My girlfriend was happy that I just returned safely from my 2nd tour as a Combat Marine in Afghanistan. She had just bought me that Kimber Custom Model 1911 .45 ACP pistol for my birthday, and we had picked up a shoulder holster for it that very evening. Obviously you agree that it is a very intimidating weapon when pointed at your head, isn’t it?!
I know it probably wasn’t fun walking back to wherever you’d come from with crap in your pants. I’m sure it was even worse walking bare-footed since I made you leave your shoes, cell phone, and wallet with me. (That prevented you from calling or running to your buddies to come help mug us again).
After I called your mother or “Momma” as you had her listed in your cell, I explained the entire episode of what you’d done. Then I went and filled up my gas tank as well as those of four other people in the gas station, on your credit card. The guy with the big motor home took 153 gallons and was extremely grateful!
I gave your shoes to a homeless guy outside Vinnie Van Go Go’s, along with all the cash in your wallet. [That made his day!]
I then threw your wallet into the big pink “pimp mobile” that was parked at the curb, after I broke the windshield and side window and keyed the entire driver’s side of the car.
Earlier, I managed to get in two threatening phone calls to the DA’s office and one to the FBI, while mentioning President Obama as my possible target. The FBI guy seemed really intense and we had a nice long chat (I guess while he traced your number etc.).
In a way, perhaps I should apologize for not killing you, but I feel this type of retribution
is a far more appropriate punishment for your threatened crime. I wish you well as you try to sort through some of these rather immediate pressing issues, and can only hope that you have the opportunity to reflect upon, and perhaps reconsider, the career path you’ve chosen to pursue in life. Remember, next time you might not be so lucky. Have a good day!
Thoughtfully yours, Semper fi,