Text 3173, 261 rader
Skriven 2005-12-04 10:51:18 av Greg Sears (3:633/104)
Kommentar till en text av George Pope
Ärende: Re: All Business
========================
-=> George Pope wrote to all <=-
GP> After just six months on the job, the board of directors of a
C h r i s t m a s T i m e
It's Christmas. Yup, it's the time of year when the booze sales go up,
the work rate goes down, and everyone has a damn good time. So can
someone please answer me - why is it always such a bloody anti-climax?
It's usually about December 12th when it really hits you - "hey guys,
it's Christmas! Why didn't anyone tell me? Oh yeah, I saw the toy
adverts on the telly, but they've been there since June! Wow,
seriously? In 2 weeks, it'll be Christmas? Yahooo! Where's the beer?"
And that 2 weeks is the best 2 weeks of the year. Suddenly, the air is
full of the sound of carols on the radio (Carol's what?), everyone's
happy and jolly, and you can't wait for the big day to arrive. You
didn't even mind shelling out wads of cash for the families Christmas
prezzies this year.
If you're at school or further education, suddenly you're free to go!
It's down the pub every night, all your friends there, and you're all
having a great time! Everyone's dead friendly, the bar staff are being
pleasant, and you sit and think to yourself "why can't they be like this
for the rest of the year?".
You're dashing around the house, putting up decorations. The place
actually looks half decent for once - no drab walls and dull corridors;
everywhere is lit up with the glisten of tinsel and fairy lights.
Christmas Eve arrives, and you can have some real fun winding the little
kids up about Santa Claus ("Sorry, kids, he got a dodgy tin of SlimFast
a couple of weeks ago, and he's been in Greenland General ever
since...").
And then one day you wake up. You're first natural instinct is to, of
course, go back to sleep. But there's something there, something
pulling at your consciousness, saying "Oy! Wake up! It's Christmas
Day!"
So you leap out of bed. OK, not with as much enthusiasm as you used to
be able to muster, but you still bound down the stairs - hey, who knows,
perhaps the prezzies this year will beat last years dismal offerings?
So you leap into the living room, and the first thing you notice is that
the glass of milk and plate of biscuits has been consumed. When you
were young, this was the conclusive proof of the existence of Santa.
SOMEONE must have eaten the biccies, no-one else was down here, so it
must have been Santa, QED. What I could never figure out is why my
father made me leave out a pint mug of McEwan's ale... I thought Santa
was into the odd brandy, myself.
OK, quick glance about the room. And there they are: the family
presents, all nicely wrapped, with lovingly stuck-on bows and gift
labels. Some caring relative spent ages carefully packaging your
prezzie up; so what do you do? Yup, rip it all off again! Never mind
the paper, it's not too important (unless you want to be a tight-arse
and use it to wrap up next years prezzies), let's see what "Santa" has
delivered YOU this year.
And it's NEVER, EVER what you wanted. You wanted a Porshe, they get you
a book on "Classic Cars". A new monitor? Nope, a packet of festive
screen wipes. A hard drive? 10 branded blanks. But don't look
disappointed, you don't want to appear ungrateful, do you. Just keep
smiling, saying "oooh, it's lovely, just what I wanted" and thanking
everyone. Bet you wish you hadn't shelled out all that dosh on their
prezzies now, huh?
Still, there's always Hogmanay...
> OBX-mas for our Moderator and all-round friend/servant
RAPE, PILLAGE, MURDER AND FATHER CHRISTMAS
By the time you read this it may well be too late, I only hope that my
warning reaches you all in time. What I have to say may shock you, it
may even disturb those of you with a weak disposition (anyone liable to
heart attacks should go on to the next joke immediately or suffer the
dire consequences). I can barely bring myself to write this but maybe
if I start at the beginning I can work my way up to the bitter,
disgusting end without breaking down in tears myself.
As most of you surely realize by now Father Christmas or Santa Claus as
he's often called is not real, no wait that's not the scandal. For
years young children have believed however that Father Christmas does
exist and it is this belief knowingly perpetuated by the parents of the
young throughout the world that has caused a disaster of equivalent
proportions to that of the great LA dope famine of '89.
Imagine if you will, a world, a world not dissimilar to our own, now on
this world the adults do not take their children seriously, oh no
instead of trusting their offspring and treating them with respect and
kindness the adults of this world treat them as if they were stupid.
The grown ups of this planet, let us call it planet X, often tell their
own kids who they brought into the world, world X if you will, lies, not
only this but they do it so much and in such a convincing way that the
children eventually believe the vicious untruths that they are being
told, how could they do otherwise. Here we have the two people in the
universe that these children think they can trust out of anyone,
anywhere, of course they will believe what they are being told.
Now, keeping that in mind bear with me while I tell you of magic. Not
the magic of books and films, hocus pocus turn you into a frog and
smoking boots rubbish, but the magic of the mind.
The magic of imagination. On one particular night of the year, every
year, only on planet X of course, this magic grows in power and great
swirls of raw magical energy swirl about planet X. Magic of course has
become weak and mostly dysfunctional as the more rational people in the
population soon become aware of its powers and tried with all their
strength to eradicate it due to the chaos and destruction that magic
could cause.
Of course magic could be used for good as well but these rational,
sensible people decided that the risk was too great and each of them
signed in blood a pledge saying that he would gladly give up his life if
only to achieve the aim of destroying all magic for ever. But, on this
one night of the year the magic swells up and it becomes impossible for
the sensible intelligent people to control it lest they are destroyed
for all time, unleashing the magic's awesome powers upon the universe,
universe X that is. Of course amazing incredible things happen on this
day for example a saviour could be born who could (if it happened of
course) unite a community and create one of the strongest religions of
all time, of course bad things happen as well but these were quickly
forgotten, although not by the rational people, they never forgot.
Picture the scene a world of happiness where there is little sorrow for
the young of the privileged and plenty of time for their imagination to
run riot. All these children and all those imaginations. What could
happen if all those minds were focused on one thing whilst the magic was
free. Well of course it would come true, that's right for this one night
those lies so innocently told would become reality. A scary prospect as
you can doubtless see. Or maybe not I will explain some more.
Say, for example, that the special day was Christmas Eve and the lies
told by the parents were of one such as Father Christmas well obviously
Father Christmas would cease to be an imaginary person on this day and
become real. Now knowing that the magic likes to warp things in its own
special way, we begin to see the problem. Think about it here we have a
fat man who is always cheered up when he is around children, hmmmm. He
likes to make children sit on his knee, hmmmm. He has a huge beard and
so you can never see his facial expressions when any of these things are
happening. He lives in the North Pole all year except for one day when
he is allowed to leave. He carries a sack, but what is in that sack,
toys? I think not. He ties reindeer to a sleigh and the reindeer try
so hard to get away from the man that they learn to fly in an attempt
to escape. Note he doesn't need a whip of any kind to induce this fear.
Yes by now I think its becoming obvious, on this one night Father
Christmas becomes real but does he spend his one night of life giving
toys to little kids, no, he spends it raping small children, burning
down whole villages, blowing innocent women and children to bits and
sexually abusing reindeer. Not only this but he employs midgets to do
his dirty work for him whilst he's living it up. Then, and this is the
worst bit he alters the minds of those whose lives he has destroyed so
that they produce Christmas cards with jolly little pictures of the evil
man himself on the front, trying to spread the falsehood that he is good
and kind, and inside (here we tell you of the absolute pinnacle of hate,
the most vile thing anyone could ever do), inside we find poems not
merely lines of rhyming prose but in fact terrible, heinous ditties with
no rhythm, absurdly stretched end rhymes and (I can barely bring myself
to type it) multiple exclamation marks.
Of course this couldn't happen here this isn't real it could only happen
on planet X. Could it, or could it, or could it, OR COULD IT, OR COULD
IT...
No, no, let go I don't want to wear a canvas jacket, the rational people
will prevail, let go, we are the sane ones you are all mad, no I don't
need the optional long sleeves, leave me alone I don't like bouncy
wallpaper it tastes of triangles MmMmm MMM mmmm mm.
Whenever the wardens let me out I like to dictate letters to them and
they'll send them off for me (they won't give me any pens because of
what I might do with them), so if you want to mailtrade with a beginner
with a sense of humor then write to this address:
Her Majesties Mental Asylum
for the dangerously insane,
302, Minster Road,
Minster,
Sheppey,
Kent.
ME123NR
> OBX-mas for Mr. <+]::-) ("Cyberpope")
H O W T O K I L L S A N T A C L A U S
The thought of people being happy and nothing that I can do to make
their day as rotten as possible. Christmas season is great, because if
you kill Santa Claus all the little kids won`t get gifts to open on the
25th! Look at all these douche bags out there dressed in those stupid
red suits, wouldn't you feel satisfied by actually killing one or all of
them? I would, I personally find great personal satisfaction in killing
of as many bastards in these suits as possible, and that's why I'm here.
Share some personal experiences in killing of the Santa Clauses.
- Stretch a piano cord across the road between two telephone poles so
when Saint Nick comes flying by on a sleigh or a fire engine his head
will come right off.
- Obtain a hand held land to air heat seeking missile, when he comes by,
nuke him to kingdom-come!
- Point a .45 calibre starting pistol at his head when he's in the mall
and threaten to give him a massive vasectomy. Then fire and watch the
fat shit have a heart attack!
- Put a gas burner on the bottom of your fire place.
- Put a shot gun on the bottom of your fire place attacked to the handle
on the flew.
- Put a lot of oil on your roof and watch the fat shit try and land!
- Kick him off his sleigh in mid air.
- Put an altimeter bomb in his sleigh, so when he goes high enough it's
bye-bye for Santa.
- Loosen the blades on his sleigh when he tries to land, it's Santa all
over the place.
- Sacrifice his reindeer.
- Bolt a rope to the roof of your house, and tie the other end to his
sleigh. It's one f***ed up sleigh when he gets moving.
- Run over him with a car when he lands on the road.
- Fire a fat-seeking missile at his sleigh in mid air.
- Have him arrested at night time for breaking and entering into your
house.
- When he comes down the chimney, smash him across the face with a
metal baseball bat.
- Fire a flame thrower at him when he's a-comin down the chimney.
Just remember when the old bastard comes - "You better not pout, you
better not cry, Santa Claus is coming to town." -little does the fat
shit know if he comes near my town he's gonna have the worst night of
his life, not to mention the last.
-=- -=-
(\ _ /) (\ _ /)
( \( )/ ) I C E-man ( \( )/ )
( ) Wishes You ( )
`> <' Seasons Greetings `> <'
/ \ 09 December 05 / \
`-._.-' `-._.-'
--- EzyBlueWave V2.01b006 00F90257
* Origin: Afraid of the competition? We ARE the Competition! (3:633/104)
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