Showing posts with label holiday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label holiday. Show all posts

Sunday, May 13, 2012

[Holiday] Games Elves Play

O*O*O* GAMES ELVES PLAY  *O*O*O

Elves are great game players.  They can mess around with a single game for
hours on end and never get tired.  And they're always good sports.  An elf
never worries about losing or looking foolish in a game.  All he cares about
is the fun he's having while he plays.

LEAPFROG:
One of their favorite games is leapfrog.  The first step in this game is
finding the frogs.  In fact, that's half the fun.  Once each elf has found
--and caught--a large frog, they're ready to play.  When the frogs are
caught, they're already lined up in a row.  Then, with a running start, the
elves leap over one after another.  The frogs don't have to do much but
wait patiently.  When the game is over, the elves let them go until next time.

FORMATION FLYING:
This game was devised by Limlim as he was training the first reindeer. It
works only when the reindeer are in a mood to play.  Each elf trains a group
of deer for the great competition.  Then, on the assigned day, the reindeer
put on a dazzling display of formation flying. The prize to the winning
elf:  No more cleaning out stables for the rest of the year!

MUSH FACE:
This game is a game that has caught on among some children in England and
South America. The rules are simple.  While the elves are eating, suddenly
someone yells "Mush Face!"  It's amazing to watch the mad scramble that
follows.  The elves grab their food--and everyone else's--and do all they
can to get it all over the other fellow's face.  The elf who ends up with
the cleanest face is the winner.  As far as Mrs. Santa is concerned, this is
her least favorite elvish game.

BIG BALL:
No one is sure who invented this game--but once the idea gets out, it will
surely spread from Pole to Pole.  In Big Ball, the first elf (usually
selected by drawing sticks--the one with the short stick gets to go first)
climbs into the ball.  Then the other elves seal it up.  Don't worry--
there's plenty of air in the ball!  Once the elf is comfortable in the ball,
his companions start to roll it around.  They roll and roll, over snowbanks,
across the garden, down ice hills.  When the elf inside finally starts to
moan, they stop and pull him out.  The elf who can roll around the longest
without moaning is the winner.

HIDE AND SEEK:
Elves play hide and seek the way everyone else does--except that they can
hide anywhere! Raful, for instance, was once found in Cincinnati under a
garbage can--fourteen weeks after the game started!  And Fringle once hid
so well that he had to go into hibernation in Mexico.  The other players
found him that following June.

HOPSCOTCH:
The elves introduced this game to the North Pole, but now it's been adopted
by Santa and Mrs. Santa.  Santa first played the game in the late 1700s--
and beat even the best elves.  Then Mrs. Santa played him -- and won!  Pretty
soon it had turned into a real contest, to see who could win the most times
at hopscotch.  For quite a while Santa had a real winning streak.  He and
Mrs. Santa would play every day (except for Christmas season) and Santa
won 1329 times in a row.  But then Mrs. Santa changed her strategy.  Now
she has a slight edge on Santa.  The overall score is: Mrs. Santa - 31,222
Santa -- 30,961.  The elves dropped out of the contest quite early, since
they couldn't keep up--even though they invented the game!
 
[[category:Holiday]]

[Holiday] Christmas Tree

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                         /    M E R R Y    \
                        /\C H R I S T M A S/\
                       /\/\/\/\/\*****/\/\/\/\
                      /\/\/\/\H A P P Y/\/\/\/\
                     /\/\/\C H A N U K A H/\/\/\
                    /\/\/\/\/\--#####--/\/\/\/\/\
                   /\/\/\/\/\/H A P P Y\/\/\/\/\/\
                  /ooooooooK W A N Z A Aoooooooooo\
                 /\<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>\
                /\/\/\/\/\/\/\F R O M/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
               / ú ú ú ú ú ú úI N E Zú ú ú ú ú ú ú ú \
               =======================================
                               [[[[]]]]
[[category:Holiday]]

[Holiday] Christmas Tale

A Christmas Tale
Copyright (c) 1993, Franchot Lewis
All rights reserved




                A CHRISTMAS TALE
                 by Franchot Lewis


         Tina hears the thumping noises of her grandmother's
    footsteps and she begins to predict the future. The footsteps
    mean that her grandmother is agitated again, and Tina is
    about to get yelled at. Tina's facial muscles twitch and she
    feels a churning in her stomach. She hunches her shoulders,
    sinks down in the sheets, and tries to hide, so to become a tiny,
    little lump in the bed, hoping to be invisible. She sucks in
    her breath as she hears the footsteps in the hallway out side
    the bedroom door.
         She fears that she can't - but knows she must continue
    to stay in her grandmother's house. But, how can she? She
    feels, she can't and be afraid this way? She skulks about the
    house, moves in every shadow she can find. She avoids eye contact
    with her grandmother and tries to avoid anyone who comes to her
    grandmother's house. This is a fretfully, worrisome, way to stay
    alive until her parents come for her. To her young mind, it
    seems like she has been living afraid forever. Already, she has
    spent three weeks living in her grandmother's house. She is
    convinced that everything in the house, including the furniture,
    is determined to subdue her. The ugly walls want to smother her.
    When she goes to bed she can hear her grandmother moving about,
    and she worries that her grandmother's friends might come
    sneaking into her room. To hide from them, she slides down in
    the bed under the blanket and covers her head. She prefers the
    darkness under the covers. She dreads sleeping with her head
    uncovered, making herself an easy target in the glow of the
    night light her grandmother keeps on in the room, for her, her
    grandmother says. She thinks the light is there for her grand
    mother and her grandmother's friends to spy on her.
.
         She worries: What if her parents never come back? What
    if they know how hard their little girl finds living in her
    grandmother's house, and they don't care? She wonders. Certainly,
    they will return. After all, she is their daughter. Their
    only child. They know how horrible life is with the grandmother.
    Her mommy called the woman "an old bag". Her daddy called the
    woman "an old busy body". They placed her in the woman's house
    because there is no place else for her to go. How could she
    survive if she didn't have her grandmother's house as a place
    to stay until her parents's return? The house is a roof. The
    house is shelter, four-walls from the cold outside.
         It is too frightful a thought to think, yet she knows it
    could easily happen. Any day, her grandmother could explode and
    kick her out before her parents returned. She knows of her
    grandmother's terrible temper. Her mommy told her of the time
    the woman exploded violently.
         When her mommy was a little girl, her mommy was a pretty
    girl with long bangs. Her mommy was very proud of those bangs,
    and spent hours admiring them and herself in the mirror. Well,
    the woman asked her mommy to do something that her mommy didn't
    do and so as punishment, the woman sat down in a chair, grabbed
    her mommy and using clippers cut off her mommy's bangs. Her
    mommy cried and screamed. Her mommy said the tears came like
    rain.
         After her mommy told her that story, Tina disliked
    the old woman thoroughly. Sleeping in the old woman's house
    is a particularly hard ordeal for Tina. Tina has bangs like
    her mommy had as a little girl. And, Tina has seen that gray
    straw-like wire peeping from under the old woman's wig, and
    feels that the old woman is probably jealous of little girls'
    bangs. She has seen her grandmother without the creams and
    preservatives the old woman puts on her face. She glimpsed
    that moldy face in all its horror going into the bathroom
    early one morning last week, and she trembled and sneaked
    away, quietly, back into her room so that the hag face old
    woman wouldn't know that Tina has seen the ugliness.
         Tina just knows, the old woman doesn't like her. The old
    woman gives Tina shelter, and feeds her, but stares at her while
    she eats like she is stealing food. She trembles as she thinks
    further of her grandmother and her grandmother's friends. She
    heard them talking. The first week after she came, she heard
    her grandmother talking about her to another fat old lady, a
    friend of her grandmother's. Tina's head aches at the thought
    of being talked about. Her mind fills with the awful memory of
    her of getting up in the middle of the night to go to the
    bathroom to pee, and of hearing her grandmother down stairs
    talking about her like she is a thief.
         "I can see, I'm going to have problems with that grand
    daughter," her grandmother said. "When she gets up some size
    she's going to be a bitch ..."
         A bitch, the old woman called her. Tina mumbled. Her
    grandmother, calling her a nasty name in the middle of the
    night, hurt. Tina wondered what names her grandmother must be
    calling her during the day. She listened, feeling pain and fear,
    but sort of,[ kind of], glad that she woke up to catch her
    grandmother in the act of disrespecting her. Tina felt that
    there was no reason why she should try to be nice to the old
    woman.
         The two old bitties were telling one another of how hard
    it is now-a-days to communicate with grand children. Her
    grandmother said, "I do every thing for that child I can: I
    cook for her, I lay her clothes out, make sure she has clean
    socks and underwear, I leave them on the bed ..."
         Tina was horrified. Her grandmother was discussing her
    underwear! Tina felt as though her grandmother was discussing
    executing her.
         "That child's always winding and complaining," Tina's
    grandmother said. "Saying, we don't do it like that in my
    house, we don't cook like that, we don't make it like that."
         Tina listened. Her grandmother's fat friend made a snort
    like a pig. It sounded to Tina as if the old women were
    either snacking or drinking. Tina's grandmother said, "The
    child's always winding about I don't do this right, or that,
    in my house, I felt like telling her to get the hell out of
    my house."
         "You didn't?" the fat friend asked.
         "I felt like it," Tina's grandmother replied, and both
    of the old women laughed.
         Tina eyes began to tear. They were now laughing at her.
    She was angry, so angry that she turned around and knocked
    over a broom that her grandmother had unintentionally left in
    the hallway at the top of the stairs. She became terrified
    that they would discover her easedropping. She cowered for a
    moment, standing still in fear, but they hadn't heard the
    broom fall, they hadn't stopped their laughter and chatter.
         Tina thought that there have to be places where she could
    go where staying out of the way until her parents returned
    wasn't so difficult. She wondered why her parents sent her to
    her grandmother. She was a good child. She didn't think that
    she could have done anything to merit this punishment. She
    wondered why her parents were being so mean to her by taking
    so long to return. They weren't mean like her grandmother.
    They wouldn't leave her unless something was to matter,
    unless they had no choice. She wondered: What were they supposed
    to do? They had to leave her somewhere, where she could sleep
    and eat.
         She doesn't blame her parents, and thinking about them
    only makes the wait longer. She has told herself often that she
    won't think about them, that they will come when they will come.
    She is a big girl and not a baby. She won't cry. She will fend
    for herself, with and against the old woman, until her parents
    return. So far, she has managed to get through three weeks. She
    feels certain that soon it will be the day that her parents
    will return. Her parents will be with her like they always were,
    and it will be like it has been always since she can remember.
    She just knows that soon they will come for her and take her
    home, and like last year, they will take her out to a big lot
    where there is a happy, smiling man with red hair and a green
    coat. In his lot is all the Christmas trees in the world. They
    will buy a big one, take it home and set it up with sparking
    lights and bright ornaments. They will sing together, spend
    plenty of time together. She will watch her mommy cook. Her
    mommy will cook and cook and she will eat and eat. In the three
    weeks she has been at her grandmother's house she hardly ate.
    When she does, she eats very little. Her mommy will come home
    and Tina will eat and eat and get some meat on her bones. Her
    daddy will lift her up, and then will ask her to show him her
    strength. She will flex her muscles, showing him the good use
    her body puts to her mommy's cooking. Her daddy will hug her,
    and her mommy while holding her, and she will squeeze, tight,
    against them both and feel safe and loved.
         She hunches down to sleep, hopeful that there won't be
    too many more nights before the morning daylight will bring
    the return of her parents.
         She hears her grandmother coming into the room. She holds
    her breath and waits for the old woman to leave. A long moment
    passes, but not long enough. Tina's grandmother sits on the
    bed and pulls the covers off Tina's head. Before Tina can
    speak, she cringes. Her grandmother flips on the room's light,
    and the brightness of a hundred watt bulb floods into the
    child's eyes.
         Her grandmother laughs, "Caught you by surprise?"
         Tina decides to yawn.
         "Sleepy, sleepy head?" her grandmother ask. "Didn't you
    hear somebody rummaging around downstairs?"
         Tina jumps up out of the bed as if she doesn't have time
    to get up without jumping. "Mommy and Daddy!" she screams.
        Her grandmother's face freezes. She looks unable to speak.
    She holds her breath, hoping to find words to say to the
    child. Before the old woman finds a single word, Tina is off
    the bed and is running down the stairs, happily skipping steps
    as she hurries.
         Tina is downstairs scurrying around, through the whole
    downstairs, running this way and that, and calling to her
    parents to come out and get her. She runs from one room to the
    other for ever so long. She thinks that her parents are playing
    hide and seek. Finally, she stops.
         Her grandmother is now downstairs. She asks her grandmother,
    "Where is my mommy and daddy? You said they be here?"
         Her grandmother tells her that she is mistaken. Her
    grandmother does not try to stop her when she inches away and
    huddles in a corner, behind the big Christmas tree her
    grandmother has set up. The tree is tall, almost as tall as
    Tina's daddy. It has silver bulbs that shine and many flashing
    bright, red and yellow and blue lights. There are boxes under
    the tree, wrapped in bright shiny paper and filled with many
    things. On some of these boxes is written Tina's name. Tina
    does not look at these boxes, nor does she look at the many
    other gifts her grandmother has sat unwrapped about the room.
    Tina stares in the direction of the floor as she inches herself
    even further into the corner.
         Her grandmother tells her, "I would wake up your mama,
    very early, on Christmas morning like this, while it was
    still dark outside, as soon as Santa Claus was gone, and
    she would come running down those steps, her face all lit up,
    her mouth squealing ... And she would attack the stacks of
    boxes with her name on them, and seeing her my face would
    fill with light and joy I would squeal too ..."
         Tina says, "My daddy's gonna pick me up."
         Her grandmother sighs, "We've explained this. You know
    where your parents are?"
         Tina does not reply. Her grandmother asks, "What did you
    tell me?  That they were in church sleeping?"
         "My daddy's going to get me, take me in his car, and
    we're going home."
         "They are gone, but we're not alone, we're safe and
    alive".
         Tina lifts her chin. She looks up at the Christmas
    tree at its tallest point, at the lighted angel at its very
    top.
         "Yes," she hears her grandmother say, "Your mama and
    daddy are in Heaven with God."
         Tina snaps, "They're going to pick me up, they're coming
    for me!"
         Tina's grandmother's patience snaps. "If they are, you
    let me know, because I don't want to be here when they get
    here, because they're dead, " her grandmother was frowning.
    "They're dead and they aren't coming back."
         Tina's eyes waters and her grandmother flinches as if
    struck by a piercing pain, and then another, as Tina began to
    cry, " You, ugly, old thing, I want to be with my mommy."
         "Damn, " the old woman fusses. "I've no business keeping
    you, I'm too old to raise another child."
         Tina is about to poke her tongue at the old woman, then
    she sees something that the old woman has kept hidden from
    view: tears. Tina's old grandmother is crying. "Baby, baby,"
    the old woman bawls and holds out her arms toward the child.
    Tina stops her own crying and takes a cautious step toward the
    old woman. Suddenly, Tina finds herself pressed into the old
    woman's sagging chest. She feels the wet face of the crying
    old woman pressing next to hers. She smells the woman's
    perfume, all musty and hard to take, unlike her mommy's
    sweet, pleasant scent. She is about to pull away from this
    foreign chest and run back into a corner when she hears the
    old woman sob, "I loved your mama, and I love you."

    
[[category:Holiday]]

[Holiday] Christmas Fire

                            |                         _...._
                         \  _  /                    .::o:::::.
                          (\o/)                    .:::'''':o:.
                      ---  / \  ---                :o:_    _:::
                           >*<                     `:}_>()<_{:'
                          >0<@<                 @    `'//\\'`    @
                         >>>@<<*              @ #     //  \\     # @
                        >@>*<0<<<           __#_#____/'____'\____#_#__
                       >*>>@<<<@<<         [__________________________]
                      >@>>0<<<*<<@<         |=_- .-/\ /\ /\ /\--. =_-|
                     >*>>0<<@<<<@<<<        |-_= | \ \\ \\ \\ \ |-_=-|
                    >@>>*<<@<>*<<0<*<       |_=-=| / // // // / |_=-_|
      \*/          >0>>*<<@<>0><<*<@<<      |=_- |`-'`-'`-'`-'  |=_=-|
  ___\\U//___     >*>>@><0<<*>>@><*<0<<     | =_-| o          o |_==_|
  |\\ | | \\|    >@>>0<*<<0>>@<<0<<<*<@<    |=_- | !     (    ! |=-_=|
  | \\| | _(UU)_ >((*))_>0><*<0><@<<<0<*<  _|-,-=| !    ).    ! |-_-=|_
  |\ \| || / //||.*.*.*.|>>@<<*<<@>><0<<@>>>>>|  ( ~~~ )/   (((((((())))))))
      ~~~~~~~~         '""""`------'  `w---w`     `------------'
[[category:Holiday]]

[Holiday] Anti-Valentines Day Results

Date: Fri, 18 Feb 94 3:20:02 EST
Subject: Anti Valentine's Day Party results
From: ehoogerb@eo.com (Edwin Hoogerbeets)

In Canada and the US, St. Valentine's Day is used as a day to celebrate
love, where lovers get together and be romantic. And of course,
businesses use it as a chance to sell lots of cheesy cards and other
merchandise.

Despite the commercialism, we single people often feel left out, or
worse, feel inadequate because we have no-one to whom we can send
Valentine's greetings. Well, I thought that was pretty stupid. Enough
of that shit.

Borrowing an idea from friends up north (hi guys), a friend and I
organized an Anti-Valentine's Day Party only for single people. We told
people to bring a top 5 list of reasons why it's better to be single than
to be in a relationship. The reasons were collect and arranged here 
in a Top 10 list for your enjoyment:


10. You get to go to cool Anti-Valentine's Day parties instead of buying
   cards and flowers.

9. Toilet seat stays DOWN. (from a woman)
   The toilet seat stays UP. (from a man)
   (Yes, there was a heated debate on both sides about what is the 
   proper thing to do. The jury is still out.)

8. Morning cotton mouth is OKAY -- and the makers of Scope can just 
   go FUCK OFF.

7. I can watch anything I want -- no channel surfing. (from a woman)
   The remote control is mine, mine, MINE!            (from a man)

6. Your grocery bill will go down by 75%.   (from a woman)
   (My bill would probably go up by 25% ;)

5. No more shoe prints on the bed sheets.
   (She wouldn't offer an explanation, but the word "traction" was
   bandied about.)

4. Rude comments such as "You're looking a little thick in the thighs,
   dear," are mercifully absent from my life!

3. You never have to lie when saying, "I love you."

2. You don't have to sleep in the wet spot if you don't want to.
   (One woman upon hearing this said, "If you're single, why would
    there be a... never mind.")

And the number one reason is:

1. You know the pubic hair in the peanut butter is yours. (you hope)
   (This woman also refused to explain herself.)


Edwin Hoogerbeets, with the help of many single friends
ehoogerb@eo.com
[[category:Holiday]]

[Holiday] 12 Thank You Notes of Christmas

From jamiet@pawl.rpi.edu Sun Nov 18 01:06:16 1990
From: jamiet@pawl.rpi.edu (James V. Tedeschi)
Subject: 12 Letters of Christmas and other assorted Fun
Summary: A compilation of Xmas humor, tis the season.


 
since someone on the net asked for it, and it was lying in a file with 
lots of other Christmas, we present a file to long for mortal man to read
in one sitting.

Happy Holidays!
Jamie


 /* ---------- "Twelve Thankyou Notes of Christmas" ---------- */

         THE TWELVE THANKYOU NOTES OF CHRISTMAS
 
 My dearest darling Edward,                        Dec 25
    What a wonderful surprise has just greeted me!  That
 sweet partridge, in that lovely little pear-tree; what
 an enchanting, romantic, poetic present!  Bless you, and
 thank you.
                     Your deeply loving
                               Emily.
 
 Beloved Edward,                                   Dec 26
    The two turtle-doves arrived this morning, and are cooing
 away in the pear-tree as I write.  I'm so touched and grateful!
                     With undying love, as always,
                               Emily.
 
 My darling Edward,                                Dec 27
    You do think of the most original presents!  Who ever
 thought of sending anybody three French hens?  Do they
 really come all the way from France?  It's a pity we have
 no chicken coops, but I expect we'll find some.  Anyway,
 thankyou so much; they're lovely.
                     Your devoted Emily.
 
 Dearest Edward,                                   Dec 28
    What a surprise!  Four calling birds arrived this morning.
 They are very sweet, even if they do call rather loudly -
 they make telephoning almost impossible - but I expect they'll
 calm down when they get used to their new home.  Anyway, I'm
 very grateful, of course I am.
                     Love from Emily.
 
 Dearest Edward,                                   Dec 29
    The mailman has just delivered five most beautiful gold
 rings, one for each finger, and all fitting perfectly!
 A really lovely present!  Lovelier, in a way, than birds,
 which do take rather a lot of looking after.  The four that
 arrived yesterday are still making a terrible row, and I'm
 afraid none of us got much sleep last night.  Mother says
 she wants to use the rings to "wring" their necks.  Mother
 has such a sense of humor.  This time she's only joking,
 I think, but I do know what she means.  Still, I love the rings.
                     Bless you,
                          Emily.
 
 Dear Edward,                                      Dec 30
    Whatever I expected to find when I opened the front door
 this morning, it certainly wasn't six socking great geese
 laying eggs all over the porch.  Frankly, I rather hoped
 that you had stopped sending me birds.  We have no room
 for them, and they've already ruined the croquet lawn.
 I know you meant well, but let's call a halt, shall we?
                     Love,
                          Emily.
 
 Edward,                                           Dec 31
    I thought I said NO MORE BIRDS.  This morning I woke
 up to find no more than seven swans, all trying to get
 into our tiny goldfish pond.  I'd rather not think what's
 happened to the goldfish.  The whole house seems to be
 full of birds, to say nothing of what they leave behind
 them, so please, please, stop!
                     Your Emily.
 
                                                   Jan 1
    Frankly, I prefer the birds.  What am I to do with eight
 milkmaids?  And their cows!  Is this some kind of a joke?
 If so, I'm afraid I don't find it very amusing.
                     Emily.
 
 Look here, Edward,                                Jan 2
    This has gone far enough.  You say you're sending me
 nine ladies dancing.  All I can say is, judging from the
 way they dance, they're certainly not ladies.  The village
 just isn't accustomed to seeing a regiment of shameless
 viragos, with nothing on but their lipstick, cavorting
 round the green, and it's Mother and I who get the blame.
 If you value our friendship, which I do (less and less),
 kindly stop this ridiculous behavior at once!
                     Emily.
 
                                                   Jan 3
    As I write this letter, ten disgusting old men are
 prancing up and down all over what used to be the garden,
 before the geese and the swans and the cows got at it.
 And several of them, I have just noticed, are taking
 inexcusable liberties with the milkmaids.  Meanwhile the
 neighbors are trying to have us evicted.  I shall never
 speak to you again.
                     Emily.
 
                                                   Jan 4
    This is the last straw!  You know I detest bagpipes!
 The place has now become something between a menagerie
 and a madhouse, and a man from the council has just
 declared it unfit for habitation.  At least Mother has
 been spared this last outrage; they took her away yesterday
 afternoon in an ambulance.  I hope you're satisfied.
 
 Sir,                                              Jan 5
    Our client, Miss Emily Wilbraham, instructs me to
 inform you that with the arrival on her premises at 7:30
 this morning of the entire percussion section of the
 Boston Symphony Orchestra, and several of their friends,
 she has no course left open to her but to seek an injunction
 to prevent you importuning her further.  I am making
 arrangements for the return of much assorted livestock.
                     I am, Sir, yours faithfully,
                          G. Creep
                          Attorney at law.
 
 Author unknown.
 
        ***************************************************************
                      'Twas the Month before Christmas,
                              and in Framingham,
                          I was following Tradition,
                           with my blue pen in hand ...
 
        A long time ago, in a Galaxy far, far away,  I was chartered
        to provide the musical entertainment at the office Christmas
        party.  So I penned a few rewrites on some  old  songs and A
        Tradition was born.  Published separately are the best  from
        years past.  And now I humbly publish and present ...
 
                  CHRISTMAS 1988 - The Next Generation Begins
 
        ***************************************************************
 
        Earlier this year I published "Surf Yuppie" (ttto "Surf City"),
        so it is only fitting that I start the festivities with ...
 
        "Surf Christmas" - by D M Goldstein, 1988
        (to the tune of "White Christmas")
 
        I'm dreaming of a Surf Christmas,
             Just like the ones from days gone by;
        Where the wave tops glisten, and surfers listen,
             to hear breakers twelve feet high.
 
        I'm dreaming of a Surf Christmas,
             to every Surf Dude I confide,
        Keep your board well waxed, and you'll fly,
             and "I gotta take that one last ride."
 
        ***************************************************************
 
        "The Homeless Song (Reaganomics)" - by D M Goldstein, 1988
        (to the tune of "The Christmas Song (Chestnuts)")
 
        Homeless sitting by an open fire,
             Frost-bite eating at their toes;
        Uletide carols being sung by a choir,
             drive the kids to Overdose.
        (Everybody knows,) George Bush is our new President,
             and you know that isn't right;
        Democrats, with fear in their eyes,
             will find it hard to sleep tonight.
 
        They know that Reagan's had his way,
        He spent lots of dough, and bought lots of arms in his day;
        And every Mother's child has cause to fear,
        'Cause Repulicans have four more years.
 
        And, So, I'm offering this simple phrase,
             for men eighteen to thirty-three,
        although it's been said that there won't be a draft,
             get out of here; get out of here; find another Country.
 
        ***************************************************************
 1
 
        ***************************************************************
 
        I always like to include something dealing with Computer Games:
        (with thanks to Tiny Tim and the Orange Elves ...)
 
        "The 12 Levels of Rogue" - by D M Goldstein, 1988
        (to the tune of "The 12 Days of Christmas")
 
        On the first level of Rogue I killed a Dwarf, a bat,
        and a Kobold who almost killed me!
 
        On the 2nd level of Rogue I found a Shimmering Pool!
        I dipped my Broad Sword,
        'cause a Kobold had nearly killed me!
 
        On the 3rd level of Rogue I read a Scroll of Sleep.
        I slept for three turns
        with my plus-two Broad Sword
        'cause a Kobold had nearly killed me!
 
        On the 4th level of Rogue I found a Staff of Wood.
        Four shots of Drain Life!
        Sleeping for three turns, a plus-two Broad Sword,
        and a Kobold who almost killed me!
 
        On the 5th level of Rogue I got really lucky:
        Five Magic Rings!
        Four shots of Drain Life, Sleep three turns,
        a plus-two Broad Sword,
        and a Kobold who almost killed me!
 
        On the 6th level of Rogue a Shrieker called to me
        Six elves with Cross-Bows!
        Five Magic Rings!  Four shots of Drain Life,
        sleep three turns, a plus-two Broad Sword,
        and a Kobold who almost killed me!
 
        On the 7th level of Rogue I killed a Troglodyte;
        Seven Excellent Hits!
        Six elves with Cross-Bows, Five Magic Rings! ...
 
        On the 8th level of Rogue I found a Magic Room
        with Eight Monsters Waiting!  Seven Excellent hits, ...
 
        On the 9th level of Rogue a Rust Monster found me,
        brought my armor to Nine!  Eight Monsters Waiting, ...
 
        On the 10th level of Rogue I quaffed a red potion,
        Experience Level Ten!  Level Nine armor, ...
 
        On the 11th level of Rogue I took Inventory:
        Eleven Rations of Food,  Experience Level Ten, ...
 
        On the 12th level of Rogue I fell into a Trap:
        Got Killed on level Thirty with
        Eleven rations of food, ...
 
        ***************************************************************
 1
 
        ***************************************************************
 
        And for those of you who find "The Season" much too hectic ...
 
        "I'll be Cloned for Christmas" - by D M Goldstein, 1988
        (to the tune of "I'll be Home for Christmas")
 
        I'll be Cloned for Christmas,
             there'll be three of me;
        One to Work, and One to Shop,
             and One just for Partys.
 
        Christmas Eve, I'm certain,
             I won't be alone;
        I'll be home for Christmas,
             or else I'll send a Clone!
 
        ***************************************************************
 
        Every now and then someone else beats me to an idea ...
 
        "Wreck the Malls" - Bob Rivers' Twisted Christmas
        (to the tune of "Deck the Halls")
 
        Wreck the Malls this Christmas Seasons
             Fa-la-la-la-la, La-la-la-la;
        You don't need to have a reason
             Fa-la-la-la-la, La-la-la-la;
        Tamper with their P A System
             Fa-la-la, La-la-la, La-la-la;
        something something something something
             Fa-la-la-la-la, La-la-la-la.
 
        (I'll finish transcribing as soon as I get my stuff out of storage ...)
 
        ***************************************************************
 
        Other titles under consideration:
             "Have Yourself a Merry Little Merger"
             "God Rest Ye, Merry Pentagon"
             "George Bush is Coming to Town"
             "The Bells of Dagoba" (for you Star Wars fans)
        and, "Knocking on Neighbors' Doors" (the Caroling Song)
             (ttto Knocking on Heaven's Door)
 
        ***************************************************************
 
 /* ---------- "Christmas Songs 1983-1987" ---------- */
 
 
        ***************************************************************
        Everybody in America,  regardless of religious preference,
        has some sort of annual "Christmas tradition", be it going
        to the family homestead for Christmas Dinner,  or going to
        the Mountains to talk to Alla whilst skiing ...   I have a
        favorite annual tradition, too, and this is it ...   - DMG
        ***************************************************************
 
        The  following is an excerpt from THE ALASKA DAILY NEWS ...
             Gnome, Alaska:   Authorities today arrested a  man
             impersonating  the  fictitious  Santa  Claus.  "He
             was apprehended  after  several  witnesses saw him
             leaving  various  houses  carrying a large  bag of
             goods  during  the  holiday  season,"  authorities
             said.   Santa  is being held on multiple counts of
             tresspassing,  breaking  and  entering,  burglary,
             emotional  harrassment, disturbing the peace,  and
             for having wild animals in a subrban neighborhood.
             Defense attorney Jack Frost states, "Have yourself
             a merry little Christmas."   Defendant is expected
             to plead Mental Incapacity ...
 
        "Mr Santa Claus" - by D M Goldstein, 1987
        (to the tune of "Mr Bojangles")
 
        I met a man named Santa, and he'd pose with you,
             In a red suit.
        Silver hair, a red jacket, a long white beard,
             and big black boots.
        He'd fly so high, oh, he'd fly so high,
             and then he'd "Ho ho ho!"
 
        I met him in a Sears in Alaska, he was
             down and out.
        He looked to me to be the eyes of age,
             as he spoke right out.
        He talked of elves, yeah, he talked of elves,
             smiled, "Ho ho ho"'ed and stepped.
 
        (Chorus:)
        Mr Santa Claus. Mr Santa Claus. Mr Santa Claus. "Nick."
 
        He made toys for the girls and boys at County Fairs,
             throughout the South,
        He spoke in tears of eight reindeer, how they and him
             just flew about.
        Now they've all retired, oh, they've all retired,
             They stay home Christmas Eve.
 
        He said "They'd prance at every chance when they would land
             on roofs like planes,
        But most 'the time they'd sit around pole and play
             Those reindeer games."
        He shook his head, and as he shook his head
             I thought I heard a "Ho ho ho!"
 
        (repeat Chorus and end.)
 
        ***************************************************************
 1
 
        ***************************************************************
 
        I was going to have Dad take off with an elf, but ...
 
        "I Saw Daddy ..." - by D M Goldstein, 1987
        (to the tune of "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus")
 
        I saw Daddy kissing Santa Claus
             when we Christmas shopped last night.
        They didn't see me creep
             into the John to take a leak,
        they thought that they were all alone
             and so a kiss they sneaked. (oh,)
        I saw Daddy tickle Santa Claus
             underneath his suit of red and white.
        What a laugh it would have been
             if Mom had only seen
        Daddy kissing Santa Claus last night!
 
        ***************************************************************
 
        My least favorite  Christmas song of all time has got
        to be "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer".  It's a story
        about how society rejected a freak until,  overnight,
        he became famous.  Then, all of a sudden, he's Mister
        Popularity.   Pshaw!   This is not the kind of lesson
        we should be teaching our children!  So, in my humble
        manner, I offer you a song with a better lesson ...
 
        "Rudolph Revisited" - by D M Goldstein, 1986
        (to the tune of "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer")
 
        Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer
             had a very shiny nose.
        Let me tell you a secret;
             it's from a drug overdose!
        All of the other Reindeer
             used to laugh and call him names.
        That is what drove poor Rudolph
             to escape into Coccaine.
 
        Then one foggy Christmas Eve
             Santa came to say,
        "Rudolph, we know what you've done."
             The police came and took him away.
 
        Now all the Reindeer are straight;
             they've given up PCP,
        quaaludes, and marijuana,
             and flying high on LSD.
 
 
        (Optional tag, to the tune of NOEL ...)
        No L, No L, No L, No L.
        None of the Reindeer do LSD.
 
        ***************************************************************
 1
 
        ***************************************************************
 
        "Santa Claus" - by D M Goldstein 1985
        (to the tune of "Rocket Man")
 
        I packed my bags last night for flight;
        Zero hour, one a.m.;
        And I'm gonna be high in my sleigh by then.
 
        I miss the Pole so much, I miss my wife;
        It's lonely out in space
        On such a famous flight.
 
        (Chorus:)
        And I think it's gonna be a long, long time
        before you get your gifts; you've yet to find
        I'm not the man you think I am at all,
        oh no, no, no; because I'm Santa Claus.
        Santa Claus, flying with my reindeer 'cross the sky.
 
        The Pole ain't the kind of place to raise your kids;
        In fact, it's cold as hell;
        But there's elves to baby-sit them if you did.
 
        And all these 'Go-bots' I don't understand;
        It's just my job one day a year.
        Santa Claus, I'm Santa Claus.
 
        (repeat Chorus and end.)
 
        ***************************************************************
 
        "Donde Esta Papa" - by D M Goldstein 1984
        (to the tune of "Feliz Navidad")
 
        Police got my Dad, Police got my Dad,
        Police got my Dad and now he's rotting in County Jail.
        Police got my Dad, Police got my Dad,
        And they'll deport him if my mother can't make his bail.
 
        (Chorus:)
        I want to wish you a Merry Christmas,
        I want to wish you a Merry Christmas,
        I want to wish you a Merry Christmas from the bottom of my cell.
        (repeat.)
 
        (alternate first verse:)
        Donde esta Papa? Donde esta Papa?
        Donde esta Papa? Papa no esta aqui.
        (repeat.)
 
        ***************************************************************
 1
 
        ***************************************************************
 
        Ah, the quintessential Christmas gift for young minds: The
        Computer!  And what's better to do with it but PLAY GAMES!
 
        "Computer Wonderland" - by D M Goldstein 1983
        (to the tune of "Winter Wonderland")
 
        Axes swing, are you listenin'?
        Gold and jewels, how they glisten.
        A beautiful sight, ADVENTURE at night,
        playing in Computer Wonderland.
 
        (Bridge:)
        In the KINGDOM we can feed the peasants,
        or plot our BIORYTHM for a year;
        Save the universe from Cylons playing STARTREK,
        or even try BACKGAMMON if you dare.
 
        Later on, we'll play WUMPUS;
        Zing those bats when they thump us.
        OTHELLO's just fine, I win every time,
        playing in Computer Wonderland.
 
        ***************************************************************
 
        and from "Have a Jewish Christmas" (NOT by D M Goldstein)
        (to the tune of "Jingle Bells")
 
        The lights are being strung, The streets are full of cheer,
        The stockings have been hung, Christmas Time is here.
        Its joyous revelry and spirit capture you;
        "At Christmas Time it's hard to be a good religious Jew." ("Oy")
 
        (Chorus:)
        Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle night and day.
        It's "Yo-ho-ho" and mistletoe and Santa's on his way.
        Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, If Santa Claus is true,
        his joy is fun for everyone, but what's a Jew to do?
 
        He goes to synagogue, it doesn't matter which,
        He's Jewish and he's very proud, "I'd rather fight than switch."
        When Christmas Time is here, he wishes it would pass,
        "Last Sunday morning I got up and almost went to mass!" ("Oy")
 
        (repeat Chorus and end.)
 
        ***************************************************************
 
 /* ---------- "SIGBEER 12/2/88  (A poem)" ---------- */
                  SIGBEER COLLOQUIUM
 
 SPEAKER:   Clement C. Morris
        Department of Annelid Studies
        Cornell University
 
 TITLE:     The Worm Before Christmas: A poem
 
 TIME:      December 2, 1988.  5:00pm
 
 PLACE:     White Horse
        Green St. near 2nd (across from Champion Federal)
        Note: THIS IS DIFFERENT!
 
 ABSTRACT:  A critical reading of the following poem will be presented.
        Discussion and refreshments will follow.
 
 
 
             "The Worm Before Christmas"
                 by Clement C. Morris
 
         (a.k.a. David Bradley, Betty Cheng, Hal Render,
             Greg Rogers, and Dan LaLiberte)
 
     Twas the night before finals, and all through the lab
     Not a student was sleeping, not even McNabb.
     Their projects were finished, completed with care
     In hopes that the grades would be easy (and fair).
 
     The students were wired with caffeine in their veins
     While visions of quals nearly drove them insane.
         With piles of books and a brand new highlighter,
     I had just settled down for another all nighter ---
 
     When out from our gateways arose such a clatter,
     I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter;
     Away to the console I flew like a flash,
         And logged in as root to fend off a crash.
 
     The windows displayed on my brand new Sun-3,
     Gave oodles of info --- some in 3-D.
     When, what to my burning red eyes should appear
     But dozens of "nobody" jobs.  Oh dear!
 
     With a blitzkrieg invasion, so virulent and firm,
         I knew in a moment, it was Morris's Worm!
     More rapid than eagles his processes came,
     And they forked and exec'ed and they copied by name:
 
     "Now Dasher!  Now Dancer!  Now, Prancer and Vixen!
     On Comet!  On Cupid!  On Donner and Blitzen!
     To the sites in .rhosts and host.equiv
     Now, dash away!  dash away!  dash away all!"
 
     ] Note:  The machines dasher.cs.uiuc.edu,
       dancer.cs.uiuc.ed, prancer.cs.uiuc.edu, etc. have
       been renamed deer1, deer2, deer3, etc. so as not
       to confuse the already burdened students who use
       those machines. We regret that this poem reflects
       the older naming scheme and hope it does not confuse
       the network adminstrator at your site.  -Ed.(
 
     And then in a twinkling, I heard on the phone,
     The complaints of the users.  (Thought I was alone!)
     "The load is too high!"  "I can't read my files!"
     "I can't send my mail over miles and miles!"
 
     I unplugged the net, and was turning around,
         When the worm-ridden system went down with a bound.
     I fretted.  I frittered.  I sweated.  I wept.
     Then finally I core dumped the worm in /tmp.
 
     It was smart and pervasive, a right jolly old stealth,
     And I laughed, when I saw it, in spite of myself.
     A look at the dump of that invasive thread
     Soon gave me to know we had nothing to dread.
 
     The next day was slow with no network connections,
     For we wanted no more of those pesky infections.
     But in spite of the news and the noise and the clatter,
     Soon all became normal, as if naught were the matter.
 
     Then later that month while all were away,
     A virus came calling and then went away.
     The system then told us, when we logged in one night:
         "Happy Christmas to all!  (You guys aren't so bright.)"
 
 
 ] Note: The authors would like to apologize to Dave McNabb for any
     detrimental references to his sleeping habits or lack thereof.
     Unfortunately, they couldn't think of anything else that rhymes
     with "lab".  -Ed. (
 
 /* ---------- "Dave Barry: Holiday Shopping" ---------- */
             *-  CHRISTMAS SHOPPING: A SURVIVOR'S GUIDE  -*
 
                         -By Dave Barry
 
     Once again, we come to the Holiday Season, a deeply religious time that
 each of us observes, in his own way, by going to the mall of his choice.
 
     In the old days, it was not called the Holiday Season; the Christians
 called it "Christmas" and went to church; the Jews called it "Hanukka" and
 went to synagogue; the atheists went to parties and drank. People passing
 each other on the street would say "Merry Christmas!" or "Happy Hanukka!" or
 (to the atheists) "Look out for the wall!"
 
     These days, people say "Season's Greetings," which, when you think about
 it, means nothing. It's like walking up to somebody and saying "Appropriate
 Remark" in a loud, cheerful voice. But "Season's Greetings" is safer,
 because it does not refer to any actual religion. Some day, I imagine, even
 "Season's Greetings" will be considered too religious, and we'll celebrate
 the Holiday Season by saying "Have a nice day."
 
     Some of you may be unhappy with this dereligionizing of the Holiday
 Season, and you may have decided that, this year, you're going to celebrate
 it the old-fashioned way, with your family sitting around stringing
 cranberries and exchanging humble, handmade gifts, like on "The Waltons".
 Well, you can forget it. If everybody pulled that kind of subversive stunt,
 the economy would collapse overnight. The government would have to
 intervene: It would form a cabinet-level Department of Holiday Gift-Giving,
 which would spend billions and billions of tax dollars to buy Barbie dolls
 and electronic games, which it would drop on the populace from Air Force
 jets, killing and maiming thousands. So, for the good of the nation, you
 should go along with the Holiday Program. This means you should get a large
 sum of money and go to a mall.
 
     Unless you live in Indonesia, there should be several malls within five
 miles of your home. It makes no difference whatsoever which one you go to:
 Under federal law, all malls in the United States must have the same 42
 chain stores. You have your chain bookstores, your chain clothing stores,
 your chain shoe stores, your chain restrooms, your chain electronic-game
 arcades.
 
     The basic idea behind malls is that they are more convenient than
 cities. Cities contain streets, which are dangerous and crowded and
 difficult to park in. Malls, on the other hand, have parking lots, which are
 also dangerous and crowded and difficult to park in, but - here is the big
 difference - in mall parking lots, THERE ARE NO RULES. You're allowed to do
 anything. You can drive as fast as you want in any direction you want. I was
 once driving in a mall parking lot when my car was struck by a pickup truck
 being driven backward by a squat man with a tattoo that said "Charlie" on
 his forearm, who got out and explained to me, in great detail, why the
 accident was my fault, his reasoning being that he was violent and muscular,
 whereas I was neither. This kind of reasoning is legally valid in mall
 parking lots.
 
     So when you get to the mall for your holiday shopping, the first thing
 to remember is that you should not park in the parking lot and walk to the
 mall buildings, because you will probably get killed. Instead, drive your
 car right up to and, if possible, right into, the mall building. This is
 perfectly legal; people do it all the time. In almost every mall I've ever
 been to, the corridors were littered with cars, recreational vehicles,
 snowmobiles and motorboats left by smart parkers.
 
     Once you're safely in the mall, you should tie your children to you with
 ropes so the other shoppers won't try to buy them. Holiday shoppers have
 been whipped into a frenzy by months of holiday advertisements, and they
 will buy anything small enough to stuff into a shopping bag. If your
 children object to being tied, threaten to take them to see Santa Claus;
 that ought to shut them up.
 
     Now you're ready for the actual shopping. Your goal should be to get it
 over with as quickly as possible, because the longer you stay in the mall,
 the longer your children will have to listen to holiday songs on the mall
 public-address system, and many of these songs can damage children
 emotionally. For example: "Frosty the Snowman" is about a snowman who
 befriends some children, plays with them until they learn to love him, then
 melts. And "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" is about a young reindeer who,
 because of a physical deformity, is treated as an outcast by the other
 reindeer. Then along comes good, old Santa. Does he ignore the deformity?
 Does he look past Rudolph's nose and respect Rudolph for the sensitive
 reindeer he is underneath? No. Santa asks Rudolph to guide his sleigh, as if
 Rudolph were nothing more than some kind of headlight with legs and a tail.
 So unless you want your children exposed to this kind of insensitivity, you
 should shop quickly.
 
     Here is a very efficient shopping method: Divide the amount of money you
 have by the number of people on your gift list to get an average dollar
 amount per person. So if you have $160, and you want to buy gifts for 10
 people, your average is $16 per person. Now find something that costs $16,
 and buy 10 of whatever it is. You'll find many useful gifts in this price
 range; for example, you could get 10 family-sized bottles of vitamin B.
 Everyone, young and old alike, can use vitamin B, and your children are sure
 to shriek with delight when they find it under the tree.
 
     If you want to buy gifts that are a little more personal, you should
 follow these guidelines:
 
                             Gifts for Men
 
      Men are amused by almost any idiot thing - that is why
      professional ice hockey is so popular - so buying gifts for them
      is easy. But you should never buy them clothes. Men believe
      they already have all the clothes they will ever need, and new
      ones make them nervous. For example, your average man has 84
      ties, but he wears, at most, only three of them. He has learned,
      through humiliating trial and error, that if he wears any of the
      other 81 ties, his wife will probably laugh at him ("You're not
      going to wear THAT tie with that suit, are you?"). So he has
      narrowed it down to three safe ties, and has gone several years
      without being laughed at. If you give him a new tie, he will
      pretend to like it, but deep inside he will hate you.
 
     If you want to give a man something practical, consider tires. More than
 once, I would have gladly traded all the gifts I got for a new set of tires.
 
                            Gifts for Women
 
     Again, you should avoid buying clothes, but not because women don't like
 clothes. The problem is sizes. First of all, women's clothing sizes don't
 mean anything. Suppose you're looking at a dress, and the tag says it's a
 size 14. You could measure that dress with every known measuring instrument,
 checking for every known unit of measurement, and you would never find any
 dimension that was 14 anythings long. Not only that, but you would never
 find any dimension that corresponded to the same dimension on any other
 size-14 dress. Not only that, but chances are you would never find any woman
 in the entire world who would admit to being a size 14.
 
     Another problem is color. Women do not see color the way men do. Suppose
 several women are in a paint store, looking at a sample of orange paint. The
 paint-can label may say "orange," and the paint may appear obviously orange
 to a male, but the women will never use the word "orange" to describe it.
 They will say things like: "It has a lot of blue" or "It's much too gray."
 Don't ask me to explain it. All I know is, if a woman tells a man she'd like
 a green scarf for Christmas, he'll go out and buy a scarf that he believes
 to be green, based on his concept of "green," which he got from crayons in
 the second grade. She will look at the scarf as if it were covered with
 maggots, then show it to her friends and say: "I asked Harold for a green
 scarf, and just look at what he got me." They'll all have a good laugh, and
 she'll return it.
 
     So the safest gifts for women are expensive little bottles of colorless
 liquids, which are sold at cosmetic counters under names such as "Eau de
 Water" and "Endless Night of Heavy Petting."
 
                           Gifts for Children
 
     This is easy. You never have to figure out what to get for children,
 because they will tell you exactly what they want. They spend months and
 months researching these kinds of things by watching Saturday-morning
 cartoon-show advertisements. Make sure you get your children exactly what
 they ask for, even if you disapprove of their choices. If your child thinks
 he wants Murderous Bob, the Doll with the Face You Can Rip Right Off, you'd
 better get it. You may be worried that it might help to encourage your
 child's antisocial tendencies, but believe me, you have not seen antisocial
 tendencies until you've seen a child who is convinced that he or she did not
 get the right gift.
 
 (Copyright 1984 Knight-Ridder Newspapers)

 
[[category:Holiday]]

[Holiday] 12 Magic Tragic Magic Words

     TWELVE MAGICTRAGICMAGIC WORDS
==============================================================================

Far back in the almost forgotten lore of the elves is an exhaustive store of
magic--in olden times the elves were able to do all sorts of wondrous things
with their magic.

Unfortunately, most of that has been lost.  All that has come to the elves
over the years is twelve magic words, instead of the thousands they used to
have.  Those twelve can be very powerful.  Yet they don't solve all the elves'
problems.  Each word becomes effective only when it's spoken after first
drinking the FRUMP potion--and the potion is ever in short supply.

THE TWELVE MAGIC WORDS.....

ONE: DINKY DOILEY.  Used by an elf to make himself invisible.  The difficulty
is that the word for making oneself visible again has been lost.

TWO: KALAMAZAMKALAMAZOO!  Spoken to make an object disappear.  Doesn't work
for anything larger than a whale.  (A group of elves onces used this on a
polar bear.  He disappeared--and they didn't see a thing when he chewed
them up.)

THREE: HOGEY BOGEY.  Works to clean a room within seconds.  The magic may
not put things where you want them, however.  Thim once used this and found
all his dirty clothes stuffed down the toilet.

FOUR: PEEPEEPOOPOO.  Magically transforms your enemy into the animal you're
thinking of at the time.  Be careful not to think of a vicious animal--
turkeys and squirrels are good choices.

FIVE: YUP-YUP. Effective when you want a plant to grow fast.  Elvish records
show that Jack didn't really have magic beans; he just knew how to use
Yup-Yup magic.

SIX: BULLY BULLY!  Turns raw materials into the toy of your choice.  Must be
spoken very loudly and with great force.  (Hans Leeflang of Holland tried
this one once--and he was thinking of every toy he'd ever wanted.  He was
wrapped under the resulting toys for three days before they could dig him
out.  Teddy Roosevelt used a variation of this magic spell to become president
of the United States.)

SEVEN: PIGGY POG.  Cures just about any imaginable illness.  Does not work for
cut fingers or for colds, however.

EIGHT: HIGGLEDY PIGGLEDY POO.  Good for changing the weather.  Can make it go
from snow to rain to shine within seconds, or from cloudiness to clear skies.
BEWARE:  When you give yourself nice weather, you're stealing it from someone
else, and giving them your clouds.

NINE: BUNKO BUCKY BAH-BAH.  Make someone shut up.  When the noise gets to an
elf, if he has some potion handy, he says the magic words and the other
person is unable to speak for 55 minutes.

TEN:  JOE BETCHUM.  Said to bring something to mind.  Works to help the elf
remember things he's forgotten, as well as things he never knew before.

ELEVEN:  RUMPLESTILTSKIN.  Pronounced to bring a shiny star down into your
hand.

TWELVE:  HUPPY HUPPY HO-HO-HO! Must be said with a broad smile, and with
the finger on the side of the nose.  Works to make an elf go up into the
air.  The elves taught this spell to Santa to enable him to go up chimneys.

THE FRUMP POTION
None of this magic does any good unless the elf first swallows at least a
teaspoon of the FRUMP potion.  Some of the ingredients of the potion are
hard to come by, and a batch won't last without spoiling for more than
three weeks.  To make the potion, gather the following ingredients and
boil them over a medium hot flame.

   F:  Fine Hair of a Frozen Flea, chopped into tiny pieces.
   R:  Righteous Indignation of a Mad Mayfly (at least 10.52 grams).
   U:  Urn with umbones of a Red Wooger (at least ",L"L


 
[[category:Holiday]]

[Holiday] 12 Days to Christmas

AN ELECTRONIC CHRISTMAS/CHANUKAH CARD TO ALL
    Lyrics by Evan Leibovitch, code by Beverly Erlebacher

    Dedicated to anyone who's left their computers alone
    just long enough for them to self-destruct:

    (Sung to the tune of something or other...)


On the first day I left it, my Unix gave to me:
 A burnt-out V.D.T.

On the second day I left it, my Unix gave to me:
 Two faulty tapes;
 And a burnt-out V.D.T.

On the third day I left it, my Unix gave to me:
 Three heads crashed;
 Two faulty tapes;
 And a burnt-out V.D.T.

On the fourth day I left it, my Unix gave to me:
 Four bad blocks;
 Three heads crashed;
 Two faulty tapes;
 And a burnt-out V.D.T.

On the fifth day I left it, my Unix gave to me:
 Five core dumps;
 Four bad blocks;
 Three heads crashed;
 Two faulty tapes;
 And a burnt-out V.D.T.

On the sixth day I left it, my Unix gave to me:
 Six bad controllers;
 Five core dumps;
 Four bad blocks;
 Three heads crashed;
 Two faulty tapes;
 And a burnt-out V.D.T.

On the seventh day I left it, my Unix gave to me:
 Seven blown partitions;
 Six bad controllers;
 Five core dumps;
 Four bad blocks;
 Three heads crashed;
 Two faulty tapes;
 And a burnt-out V.D.T.

On the eighth day I left it, my Unix gave to me:
 Eight gettys dying;
 Seven blown partitions;
 Six bad controllers;
 Five core dumps;
 Four bad blocks;
 Three heads crashed;
 Two faulty tapes;
 And a burnt-out V.D.T.

On the ninth day I left it, my Unix gave to me:
 Nine floppies frying;
 Eight gettys dying;
 Seven blown partitions;
 Six bad controllers;
 Five core dumps;
 Four bad blocks;
 Three heads crashed;
 Two faulty tapes;
 And a burnt-out V.D.T.

On the tenth day I left it, my Unix gave to me:
 Ten ports a-jamming;
 Nine floppies frying;
 Eight gettys dying;
 Seven blown partitions;
 Six bad controllers;
 Five core dumps;
 Four bad blocks;
 Three heads crashed;
 Two faulty tapes;
 And a burnt-out V.D.T.

On the eleventh day I left it, my Unix gave to me:
 Eleven chips a-smoking;
 Ten ports a-jamming;
 Nine floppies frying;
 Eight gettys dying;
 Seven blown partitions;
 Six bad controllers;
 Five core dumps;
 Four bad blocks;
 Three heads crashed;
 Two faulty tapes;
 And a burnt-out V.D.T.

On the twelfth day I left it, my Unix gave to me:
 Twelve boards a-blowing;
 Eleven chips a-smoking;
 Ten ports a-jamming;
 Nine floppies frying;
 Eight gettys dying;
 Seven blown partitions;
 Six bad controllers;
 Five core dumps;
 Four bad blocks;
 Three heads crashed;
 Two faulty tapes;
 And a burnt-out V.D.T.

On the thirteenth day I started adapting my Nintendo for the VME bus.


[[category:Holiday]]

[Holiday] 12 Days of Christmas


                ******* TWELVE DAYS OF CHRISTMAS ********


XX LETTER #1

MISS AGNES MCHOLSTEIN
69 CASH AVENUE
BEAVER VALLEY, COLORADO
DECEMBER 14, 1985

DEAREST JOHN:

I WENT TO THE DOOR TODAY AND THE POSTPERSON DELIVERED A PARTRIDGE IN A PEAR
TREE. WHAT A THOROUGHLY DELIGHTFUL GIFT. I COULD NOT HAVE BEEN MORE
SURPRISED.

WITH DEEPEST LOVE AND AFFECTION,

AGNES

XX LETTER #2

MISS AGNES MCHOLSTEIN
69 CASH AVENUE
BEAVER VALLEY, COLORADO
DECEMBER 15, 1985

DEAREST JOHN:

TODAY THE POSTPERSON BROUGHT YOUR VERY SWEET GIFT. JUST IMAGINE - TWO TURTLE
DOVES! I'M DELIGHTED AT YOUR VERY THOUGHTFUL GIFT. THEY ARE JUST ADORABLE.

ALL MY LOVE,

AGNES

XX LETTER #3


MISS AGNES MCHOLSTEIN
69 CASH AVENUE
BEAVER VALLEY, COLORADO
DECEMBER 16, 1985

DEAR JOHN:

OH!  AREN'T YOU THE EXTRAVAGANT ONE! NOW REALLY, I MUST PROTEST. I DO NOT
DESERVE SUCH GENEROSITY -- THREE FRENCH HENS. THEY ARE JUST DARLING, BUT I
MUST INSIST, YOU HAVE BEEN TOO KIND.

LOVE,

AGNES

XX LETTER #4


MISS AGNES MCHOLSTEIN
69 CASH AVENUE
BEAVER VALLEY, COLORADO
DECEMBER 17, 1985

DEAR JOHN:

TODAY THE POSTPERSON DELIVERED FOUR CALLING BIRDS. NOW REALLY JOHN, THEY ARE
BEAUTIFUL, BUT DON'T YOU THINK ENOUGH IS ENOUGH? YOU'RE BEING TOO ROMANTIC.

AFFECTIONATELY,

AGNES

XX LETTER #5


MISS AGNES MCHOLSTEIN
69 CASH AVENUE
BEAVER VALLEY, COLORADO
DECEMBER 18, 1985

DEAREST JOHN:

WHAT A SURPRISE! TODAY THE POSTPERSON DELIVERED FIVE GOLDEN RINGS. ONE FOR
EVERY FINGER EH? YOU'RE JUST IMPOSSIBLE BUT I LOVE IT. FRANKLY THOUGH, ALL
THOSE BIRDS SQUAWKING ARE BEGINNING TO GET ON MY NERVES.

ALL MY LOVE,

AGNES

XX LETTER #6


MISS AGNES MCHOLSTEIN
69 CASH AVENUE
BEAVER VALLEY, COLORADO
DECEMBER 19, 1985

DEAR JOHN:

WHEN I OPENED THE DOOR THERE WERE ACTUALLY SIX GEESE-A-LAYING ON MY FRONT
STEPS. SO YOU'RE BACK TO THE BIRDS AGAIN, HUH? THOSE GEESE ARE HUGE. WHERE
WILL I EVER KEEP THEM? THE NEIGHBORS ARE COMPLAINING, AND I CAN'T SLEEP
THROUGH THE RACKET. GIMME A BREAK EH?  PLEASE STOP.

CORDIALLY,

AGNES

XX LETTER #7

MISS AGNES MCHOLSTEIN
69 CASH AVENUE
BEAVER VALLEY, COLORADO
DECEMBER 20, 1985

JOHN:

WHAT'S WITH YOU AND THESE FUCKING BIRDS??? SEVEN SWANS A-SWIMMING. WHAT KIND
OF GOD-DAMN JOKE ARE YOU PULLING HERE FELLA? THERE'S BIRD SHIT ALL OVER THE
HOUSE AND THEY NEVER STOP WITH THE RACKET. I CAN'T SLEEP AT NIGHT AND I'M A
NERVOUS WRECK. IT'S NOT FUNNY, SO STOP WITH THE DAMNED FOUL.

SINCERELY,

AGNES

XX LETTER #8


MISS AGNES MCHOLSTEIN
69 CASH AVENUE
BEAVER VALLEY, COLORADO
DECEMBER 21, 1985

OK BUSTER:

I THINK I PREFER THE BIRDS. WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING TO DO WITH EIGHT MAIDS
A-MILKING? IT'S NOT ENOUGH WITH ALL THOSE BIRDS AND EIGHT MAIDS, BUT THEY HAD
TO BRING THEIR GOD-DAMN COWS. THERE'S SHIT ALL OVER THE LAWN, AND I CAN'T
MOVE IN MY OWN HOUSE. JUST LAY OFF ME, SMARTASS.

AGNES

XX LETTER #9


MISS AGNES MCHOLSTEIN
69 CASH AVENUE
BEAVER VALLEY, COLORADO
DECEMBER 22, 1985

HEY SHITHEAD:
 
WHAT ARE YOU? SOME KIND OF SADIST? NEW 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

XX LETTER #10


MISS AGNES MCHOLSTEIN
69 CASH AVENUE
BEAVER VALLEY, COLORADO
DECEMBER 23, 1985

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 SUPOENAED ME TO GIVE CAUSE WHY THEY BUILDING SHOULD NOT BE
CONDEMNED. I'M SICKING THE POLICE ON YOU, YOU CREEP.

ONE WHO MEANS IT,

AGNES


XX LETTER #11


MISS AGNES MCHOLSTEIN
69 CASH AVENUE
BEAVER VALLEY, COLORADO
DECEMBER 24, 1985

LISTEN FUCKHEAD:

WHAT'S WITH THE ELEVEN LORDS A-LEAPING ON THOSE MAIDS AND LADIES? SOME OF
THOSE BROADS WILL NEVER WALK AGAIN. THOSE PIPERS RAN THRU THE MAIDS AND HAVE
BEEN COMMITTING SODOMY WITH THE COWS. ALL 23 OF THE BIRDS ARE DEAD. THEY'VE
BEEN TRAMPLED TO DEATH IN THE ORGY. I HOPE YOU ARE SATISFIED, YOU ROTTEN,
VICIOUS SWINE.

YOUR SWORN ENEMY,

AG


XX LETTER #12

                LAW  OFFICES
        BADGER, BENDER,  AND  COHOLO
                303 KNAVE STREET
                DENVER, COLORADO

DECEMBER 26, 1985

DEAR SIR:

THIS IS TO ACKNOWLEDGE YOUR LATEST GIFT OF TWELVE FIDDLERS FIDDLING WHICH YOU
HAVE SEEN FIT TO INFLICT UPON OUR CLIENT, MISS AGNES MCHOLSTEIN. THE
DESTRUCTION, OF COURSE, WAS TOTAL.

ALL CORRESPONDENCE SHOULD COME ADDRESSED FOR OUR ATTENTION. IT YOU SHOULD
ATTEMPT TO REACH MISS MCHOLSTEIN AT HAPPY DAYS SANITARIUM, THE ATTENDANTS HAVE
INSTRUCTIONS TO SHOOT YOU ON SIGHT.

WITH THIS LETTER PLEASE FIND ATTACHED A WARRANT FOR YOUR ARREST.

CORDIALLY,

BADGER, BENDER AND COHOLO


...AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT.

JULIA




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[[category:Holiday]]

[Holiday] 12 Days After Christmas

THE TWELVE DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS

The first day after Christmas
My true love and I had a fight
And so I chopped the pear tree down
And burnt it, just for spite

Then with a single cartridge
I shot that blasted partridge

My true love, my true love, my true love gave to me.

The second day after Christmas 
I pulled on the old rubber gloves
And very gently wrung the necks
Of both the turtle doves

My true love, my true love, my true love gave to me.

On the third day after Christmas
My mother caught the croup
I had to use the three French hens
To make some chicken soup

The four calling birds were a big mistake
For their language was obscene
The five golden rings were completely fake 
and turned my fingers green.

The sixth day after Christmas
The six laying geese wouldn't lay
So I sent the whole darn gaggle to the 
A.S.P.C.A.

On the seventh day, what a mess I found
The seven swans-a-swimming all had drowned
(I think there's a "my true love gave to me" in here somewhere)

The eighth day after Christmas
Before they could suspect
I bundled up the
Eight maids-a-milking
Nine ladies dancing
Ten lords-a-leaping
Eleven pipers piping
Twelve drummers drumming - well, actually I kept one of the drummers - 
And sent them back collect

I wrote my true love
"We are through, love!"
And I said in so many words
"Furthermore your Christmas gifts were for the
(Soprani) Birds!"

(Everyone else) Four calling birds, 
Three french hens,
Two turtle doves
And a partridge in a pear tree!"


*******************************************************
From: polgara@bucsf.bu.edu (Joanne Handwerger)
 
         THE TWELVE THANKYOU NOTES OF CHRISTMAS
 
 My dearest darling Edward,                        Dec 25
    What a wonderful surprise has just greeted me!  That
 sweet partridge, in that lovely little pear-tree; what
 an enchanting, romantic, poetic present!  Bless you, and
 thank you.
                     Your deeply loving
                               Emily.
 
 Beloved Edward,                                   Dec 26
    The two turtle-doves arrived this morning, and are cooing
 away in the pear-tree as I write.  I'm so touched and grateful!
                     With undying love, as always,
                               Emily.
 
 My darling Edward,                                Dec 27
    You do think of the most original presents!  Who ever
 thought of sending anybody three French hens?  Do they
 really come all the way from France?  It's a pity we have
 no chicken coops, but I expect we'll find some.  Anyway,
 thankyou so much; they're lovely.
                     Your devoted Emily.
 
 Dearest Edward,                                   Dec 28
    What a surprise!  Four calling birds arrived this morning.
 They are very sweet, even if they do call rather loudly -
 they make telephoning almost impossible - but I expect they'll
 calm down when they get used to their new home.  Anyway, I'm
 very grateful, of course I am.
                     Love from Emily.
 
 Dearest Edward,                                   Dec 29
    The mailman has just delivered five most beautiful gold
 rings, one for each finger, and all fitting perfectly!
 A really lovely present!  Lovelier, in a way, than birds,
 which do take rather a lot of looking after.  The four that
 arrived yesterday are still making a terrible row, and I'm
 afraid none of us got much sleep last night.  Mother says
 she wants to use the rings to "wring" their necks.  Mother
 has such a sense of humor.  This time she's only joking,
 I think, but I do know what she means.  Still, I love the rings.
                     Bless you,
                          Emily.
 
 Dear Edward,                                      Dec 30
    Whatever I expected to find when I opened the front door
 this morning, it certainly wasn't six socking great geese
 laying eggs all over the porch.  Frankly, I rather hoped
 that you had stopped sending me birds.  We have no room
 for them, and they've already ruined the croquet lawn.
 I know you meant well, but let's call a halt, shall we?
                     Love,
                          Emily.
 
 Edward,                                           Dec 31
    I thought I said NO MORE BIRDS.  This morning I woke
 up to find no more than seven swans, all trying to get
 into our tiny goldfish pond.  I'd rather not think what's
 happened to the goldfish.  The whole house seems to be
 full of birds, to say nothing of what they leave behind
 them, so please, please, stop!
                     Your Emily.
 
                                                   Jan 1
    Frankly, I prefer the birds.  What am I to do with eight
 milkmaids?  And their cows!  Is this some kind of a joke?
 If so, I'm afraid I don't find it very amusing.
                     Emily.
 
 Look here, Edward,                                Jan 2
    This has gone far enough.  You say you're sending me
 nine ladies dancing.  All I can say is, judging from the
 way they dance, they're certainly not ladies.  The village
 just isn't accustomed to seeing a regiment of shameless
 viragos, with nothing on but their lipstick, cavorting
 round the green, and it's Mother and I who get the blame.
 If you value our friendship, which I do (less and less),
 kindly stop this ridiculous behavior at once!
                     Emily.
 
                                                   Jan 3
    As I write this letter, ten disgusting old men are
 prancing up and down all over what used to be the garden,
 before the geese and the swans and the cows got at it.
 And several of them, I have just noticed, are taking
 inexcusable liberties with the milkmaids.  Meanwhile the
 neighbors are trying to have us evicted.  I shall never
 speak to you again.
                     Emily.
 
                                                   Jan 4
    This is the last straw!  You know I detest bagpipes!
 The place has now become something between a menagerie
 and a madhouse, and a man from the council has just
 declared it unfit for habitation.  At least Mother has
 been spared this last outrage; they took her away yesterday
 afternoon in an ambulance.  I hope you're satisfied.
 
 Sir,                                              Jan 5
    Our client, Miss Emily Wilbraham, instructs me to
 inform you that with the arrival on her premises at 7:30
 this morning of the entire percussion section of the
 Boston Symphony Orchestra, and several of their friends,
 she has no course left open to her but to seek an injunction
 to prevent you importuning her further.  I am making
 arrangements for the return of much assorted livestock.
                     I am, Sir, yours faithfully,
                          G. Creep
                          Attorney at law.
 
 Author unknown.

 
[[category:Holiday]]

Monday, April 30, 2012

[Holiday] Twas the Night Before Christmas 2

'Twas the night before Christmas
 And all through the house,
Things were real mellow...
 Even Irving, the Mouse.

Our boots were hung up,
 The incense was lit,
In hope that St. Nick
 Would soon do his bit.

The tree was decked out;
 It was really a sight,
With love beads and flowers
 And a flashing strobe light.

Wearing my T-shirt
 From Woodstock Nation,
I was getting into some good meditation.

And my chick was doing some yoga in bed,
 munching a fruit cake,
While propped on her head.

Then...pow!!...in the night...
 ...a hullabaloo!
It shook the waterbed
 And woke up old Blue.

I stumbled around
 And tripped on my beard.
It stuck to my toes
 And felt really wierd.

When I got to the window,
 I was really uptight,
'cause the scene I perceived
 Was a mind blowing sight!

What through my shades
 Did I see through the snow,
But eight tiny mooses
 And a wild U.F.O.!

With this hip dude inside,
 Looking kinky and groovy...
I flashed..."If this ain't Nick
 It must be the late movie."

They blew in from the cosmos
 Like some far-out caboose
And this fat cat kept yelling
 At each midget moose:

"Right on, Dasher! On, Dancer!
 GET IT ON...DO YOUR THING.
Get your bods in high gear, now,
 And move this machine!"

Then onto the roof
 They flew with a shout,
The whole Cosmic Crew
 Really freaked me out!

They caused such a hassle
 And made such a fuss,
I thought someone would call
 The fuzz down on us.

But before I could say, "COOL IT!...
 HOLD DOWN THAT LOUD JIVE,"
Nick zapped toward the chimney
 And leaped in with a dive!

As he trucked from the fireplace,
 His smile all agleam,
I thought, "ITS UNREAL!
 It must be a dream!"

Then he nodded and said,
 "This isn't a bummer...
Like, I've come in peace,
 To groove my Yule Number."

His duds were all fur,
 Trimmed in leather and such
And he came on stone funky...
 ...he was really too much.

His back pack was painted
 With black light festoon,
Full of albums and posters
 And a neon balloon.

His eyes, a light show!
 His beard, da-glo bright!
A plastic, fantastic,
 Kaleidoscope sight!

He looked like a guru,
 This beautiful cat...
...I thought, like, wow!
 ...This dude knows where its at!

"Don't want to sound heavy,"
 He said with a grin,
"My message is simple
 So dig it, tune in."

"I brought you some goodies,
 But that's not the thing.
My real trip is bringing
 Good vibes to this scene."

So we rapped until dawn
 About Peace, Love and Truth,
Then he said, "Gotta split, now,
 Or I'll be late in Duluth."

He wiggled his nose and said,
 "I did my bit"
And straight up the smoke hole
 This fat cat did split!

As he sped from the roof
 And into the air,
He shouted, "Let's get it together,
 All you people down there!"

"Merry Christmas To All
 And to all a Good Night!"
And then in a flash,
 He streaked outta sight!
[[category:Holiday]]

[Holiday] Shedding True Light on Christmas Day

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
.-.              .-.
.-.              .-.
.-.    {>Shedding True Light on Christmas Day<}            .-.
.-.             .-.
.-.     Written By                  .-.
.-.              The Cruiser                       .-.
.-.             .-.
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

 
*   *
 * *
  *
  * ou were 8 years old, and it was Dec. 25.  This is how the day went.

     1 a.m. You were much too excited to sleep, so you got out of bed and 
walked over to the window, where you were witness to an amazing and glorious
sight.  Across the street, on the roof of the Finster house, was the Jolly 
Fellow himself, old St. Nick.  It was hard to see exactly what he was doing,
seeing as it was the middle of the night and all, but there was no doubt that
it was indeed Santa Claus.
     You tried to get your brother Billy to come to the window to see Santa,
but he just said, "Make sure he's got my puppy," before he rolled over and went
back to sleep.  
     (In later years, you would learn that what you had really seen was portly
old Mr. Finster, who had forgotten his house keys, and was trying to sneak in
without waking his wife.)
     4:55 a.m. Morning! (Sort of.) You try to wake your parents, but they tell
you to wait for the sun to come up. (In later years, you would learn that Pop
had gone to bed at 4:50, after finally completing the task of putting together
a bicycle that required "light assembly.")
     5:15 a.m. Your parents finally give in to your pathetic pleadings, and
you all head downstairs for the Opening of The Presents.  For background music,
Pop puts on his favorite holiday album, "Everybody Sings `The Little Drummer
Boy.'"  Side one features Tony Bennett, The Captain & Tenille, Lionel Richie,
Rosemary Clooney, Andy Williams and Barry Manilow.  
     5:16 a.m. Billy begins to cry, because there is no puppy under the tree.
Mom looks right at Pop and says, "I'm sorry, Billy.  Sometimes Santa Claus can
be a real meanie."
     5:21 a.m. All presents have been opened.
     
 {>Highlights<}

     Mom thanking Pop for the perfume she bought and wrapped.
     Pop's classic Method performance, as he assures everyone that this tie 
really is unique.
     Billy holding his breath for three minutes and 17 seconds, because he 
didn't get a puppy.  According to your brand new book of records, Billy was 
just 11 seconds shy of the all-time Hold Your Breath record, held by an
Australian child who didn't get a koala bear for Christmas.
     You recieved several cool toys, requiring a total of 117 batteries, none
of which were included.

 {>The Day Continues. . .<}

     6 a.m. Mom and Pop go back to bed;Billy begins packing for his run away
from home.  You play with your cars, going "Zoom, zoom!" to compensate for the
lack of batteries. 
     8 a.m. Mass at St. Phillips's.  Average attendance is 712.  Today's 
attendance: 5,678.
     Father O'Malley, who has the hairiest knuckles of any human being you've 
ever seen, gives a 45-minute sermon.  The topic is "People Who Come to Church
Only on Christmas and Easter."
     Alice Lane, the crush in your life, is sitting in the pew across from 
yours.  In order to impress her, you begin to wriggle your right ear, a trick
you've recently mastered.  Alice doesn't see this, but Sister Mary Grace does,
unfortunately.  She gives you her mean Raymond Burr stare and mouths the
message, "Pay attention and pray, Mister."
     You pray that Sister Mary Grace will have forgotten this episode by the
time school resumes, but that's highly unlikely.  Nuns never forget.
     9:45 a.m. Mass finally ends.
     There are several minor accidents and at least one incident of fisticuffs
as parishoners jockey for position to reach the exits.
     10 a.m. Bernstein's Drug Store is doing record business.  The line for 
batteries snakes around the building.  Young Irwin Bernstein makes an 
announcement through a megaphone: "Attention, people - there are no more 
Double-A or C batteries!" (A groan ripples through the crowd.) "But we still
have the A, B and D sizes.  Have your order and your money ready when you 
approach the counter.  Thank you." 
     11:15 a.m. You arrive at the fifth straight overcrowded restaurant.  An
overly cheerful hostess named Tawny says, "Merry Christmas, gang.  There's a three-hour wait, unless you don't mind sitting at seperate tables."
     11:20 a.m. A quick stop at Dunkin' Donuts.
     11:45 a.m. Back home.
     With the help of 12 D batteries, you now have a fully functional Sonar
Sound Ear-Piercing Ray Gun, which emits 10 different kinds of high-pitched
sound waves. 
     12:30 p.m. Uncle Herb and Aunt Sigourney are the first guests to arrive.
Billy answers the door and says, "Did you bring me a puppy?"
     Aunt Sigourney replies, "No, but we have a lovley fruitcake."
     Billy flings himself to the ground.  Uncle Herb and Aunt Sigourney step 
over Billy, and the party is under way.  
     12:35 p.m. Uncle Herb utters his most famous phrase: "Hey, why is the 
liquor cabinet locked?"
     1:35 p.m. Of all toys, 33% have been rendered useless.
     2 p.m. More than 50 guests have arrived.  There is so much noise that 
Billy's crying has been reduced to a mime act - you can see him, but you can't
hear him.
     2:15 p.m. Uncle Herb borrows your Sonar Sound Ear-Piercing Ray Gun.
     2:16 p.m. The Sonar Sound Ear-Piercing Ray Gun is accidentally broken.
     4:10 p.m. Browns 27, Steelers 21, final score.  Pop switches over to an NBA
game.  The announcer is saying, "There's no better way to celebrate this
Christmas Day than by watching a fierce intradivision matchup between the 
Detroit Pistons and the Milwaukee Bucks."
      4:40 p.m. Small fire in the kitchen.  No one is hurt, but there's a lot
of choking and gasping from all the smoke.
     5 p.m. Dinner is served.  The adults sit at a long table that stretches
from the kitchen all the way out to the front porch.  The meal is delicious,
although it's hard to see anything because of the lingering smoke from the
fire.  
     The kids sit at a seperate table in the basement.  Billy learns that 40% 
of his cousins recieved some sort of Lovable Furry Creature for Christmas.
This gives him renewed crying energy.
     6 p.m. Pop again puts on "Everybody Sings `The Little Drummer Boy.'"
     6:05 p.m. Uncle Herb mutters, "Where's that damn sound gun when you need 
it?"
     7 p.m. On cable, it's "Holiday Hockey," with the Calgary Flames taking on
the Minnesota North Stars.  
     7:15 p.m. Aunt Elaine, your godmother who thinks you're still 3 years old,
gives you a present - building blocks, suitable for ages 2-4.
     "But I'm 8 years old," you say.  Nobody cares.
     8:30 p.m. Mom completes the task of packaging and wrapping 57 individual
leftover plates for the guests to take home.
     9 p.m. The party is still going strong, but it's time for you and Billy to
go to bed.
     9:22 p.m. You have finally finished kissing everyone goodnight.  There 
are 33 different shades of lipstick smeared on your face.
     9:30 p.m. Lights out.
     Billy says, "I wonder if I made 'em feel guitly enough to buy me a puppy
for my birthday."
     "Doubtful," you tell him.
     Outside, the snow keeps on falling.
     Only 364 days until Christmas.
 
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
.-.             .-.
.-. Merry Christmas everyone, and have a safe and happy New Year.       .-.
.-. --The Cruiser, 12/20/86          .-.
.-.                                  .-.
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
 
       /-----------\
       |This was an|
       |Octothorpe |
       |Production.|
       \-----------/

 
[[category:Holiday]]

[Holiday] 12 Computerized Days of Christmas

                THE TWELVE COMPUTERIZED DAYS OF CHRISTMAS

On the first day of Christmas, my computer gave to me
A glitch on the video screen.

On the second day of Christmas, my computer gave to me
Two keyboard bounces, and a glitch on the video screen.

On the third day of Christmas, my computer gave to me
Three loose plugs,
Two keyboard bounces,
And a glitch on the video screen.

On the FORTH day of Christmas, my computer gave to me
Four garbled SAVE's,
Three loose plugs,
Two keyboard bounces,
And a glitch on the video screen.

On the fifth day of Christmas, my computer gave to me
Five blank cassettes,
Four garbled SAVE's,
Three loose plugs,
Two keyboard bounces,
And a glitch on the video screen.

On the sixth day of Christmas, my computer gave to me
Six I/O spasms,
Five blank cassettes,
Four garbled SAVE's,
Three loose plugs,
Two keyboard bounces,
And a glitch on the video screen.

On the seventh day of Christmas, my computer gave to me
Seven system resets,
Six I/O spasms,
Five blank cassettes,
Four garbled SAVE's,
Three loose plugs,
Two keyboard bounces,
And a glitch on the video screen.

On the eighth day of Christmas, my computer gave to me
Eight worthless printouts,
Seven system resets,
Six I/O spasms,
Five blank cassettes,
Four garbled SAVE's
Three loose plugs,
Two key bounces,
And a glitch on the video screen.

On the ninth day of Christmas, my computer gave to me
nine burnt-out fuses
Eight worthless printouts,
Seven system resets,
Six I/O spasms,
Five blank cassettes,
Four garbled SAVE'S
Three loose plugs,
Two key bounces,
And a glitch on the video screen.

On the tenth day of Christmas, my computer gave to me
Ten disk-drive lockouts,
nine burnt-out fuses
Eight worthless printouts,
Seven system resets,
Six I/O spasms,
Five blank cassettes,
Four garbled SAVE'S
Three loose plugs,
Two key bounces,
And a glitch on the video screen.

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my computer gave to me
Eleven damaged diskettes,
Ten disk-drive lockouts,
nine burnt-out fuses
Eight worthless printouts,
Seven system resets,
Six I/O spasms,
Five blank cassettes,
Four garbled SAVE'S
Three loose plugs,
Two key bounces,
And a glitch on the video screen.

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my computer gave to me
Twelve blown-out circuits,
Eleven damaged diskettes,
Ten disk-drive lockouts,
nine burnt-out fuses
Eight worthless printouts,
Seven system resets,
Six I/O spasms,
Five blank cassettes,
Four garbled SAVE'S
Three loose plugs,
Two key bounces,
And a glitch on the video screen.

[[category:Holiday]]

Friday, April 27, 2012

[Holiday] 12 Bugs of Christmas

Article 2315 of rec.humor.funny:
Path: samba!concert!gatech!emory!wupost!uunet!looking!funny-request
Message-ID: 
Date: Sat, 5 Dec 92 12:20:01 EST
Newsgroups: rec.humor.funny
From: hobson@pipper.enet.dec.com (Cary - Hobson's Choice - 508-841-2323 03-Dec-1992 1658)
Subject: And the Twelve Bugs of Christmas ....
Keywords: topical, heard it, computers, chuckle
Approved: funny@clarinet.com
Lines: 107

For the first bug of Christmas, my manager said to me
     See if they can do it again.

For the second bug of Christmas, my manager said to me
     Ask them how they did it and
     See if they can do it again.

For the third bug of Christmas, my manager said to me
     Try to reproduce it
     Ask them how they did it and
     See if they can do it again.

For the fourth bug of Christmas, my manager said to me
     Run with the debugger
     Try to reproduce it
     Ask them how they did it and
     See if they can do it again.

For the fifth bug of Christmas, my manager said to me
     Ask for a dump
     Run with the debugger
     Try to reproduce it
     Ask them how they did it and
     See if they can do it again.

For the sixth bug of Christmas, my manager said to me
     Reinstall the software
     Ask for a dump
     Run with the debugger
     Try to reproduce it
     Ask them how they did it and
     See if they can do it again.

For the seventh bug of Christmas, my manager said to me
     Say they need an upgrade
     Reinstall the software
     Ask for a dump
     Run with the debugger
     Try to reproduce it
     Ask them how they did it and
     See if they can do it again.

For the eighth bug of Christmas, my manager said to me
     Find a way around it
     Say they need an upgrade
     Reinstall the software
     Ask for a dump
     Run with the debugger
     Try to reproduce it
     Ask them how they did it and
     See if they can do it again.

For the ninth bug of Christmas, my manager said to me
     Blame it on the hardware
     Find a way around it
     Say they need an upgrade
     Reinstall the software
     Ask for a dump
     Run with the debugger
     Try to reproduce it
     Ask them how they did it and
     See if they can do it again.

For the tenth bug of Christmas, my manager said to me
     Change the documentation
     Blame it on the hardware
     Find a way around it
     Say they need an upgrade
     Reinstall the software
     Ask for a dump
     Run with the debugger
     Try to reproduce it
     Ask them how they did it and
     See if they can do it again.

For the eleventh bug of Christmas, my manager said to me
     Say it's not supported
     Change the documentation
     Blame it on the hardware
     Find a way around it
     Say they need an upgrade
     Reinstall the software
     Ask for a dump
     Run with the debugger
     Try to reproduce it
     Ask them how they did it and
     See if they can do it again.

For the twelfth bug of Christmas, my manager said to me
     Tell them it's a feature
     Say it's not supported
     Change the documentation
     Blame it on the hardware
     Find a way around it
     Say they need an upgrade
     Reinstall the software
     Ask for a dump
     Run with the debugger
     Try to reproduce it
     Ask them how they did it and
     See if they can do it again.

--
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[[category:Holiday]]