Text 783, 358 rader
Skriven 2004-12-15 22:49:24 av Greg Sears (1:153/307)
     Kommentar till en text av George Pope
Ärende: Re: Book
================
Funny on 12-Dec-2004 10:58

 GS> * Guess y'all heard about the deaf mute and his wife.  She was
   >   so angry, he couldn't get a finger in edgewise.

      -=[George Pope wrote IN a message to GREG SEARS]=-

 GP> And,whenever he'd had enough of her bitching/nagging, he'd just reach
   > over & turn out the light!

  G-day George Pope, sometimes you win, sometimes you lose! #[;-)]


GP> A traveling salesman approached an old farmhouse and noticed that it

                   TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS

Twas the nocturnal segment of the diurnal period preceding the annual
yuletide celebration.  And throughout our place of residence, kinetic
activity was not in evidence among the possessors of this potential,
including that species of domestic rodent known as mus musclus.
Hosiery was meticulously suspended from the forward edge of the
wood-burning caloric apparatus, pursuant to our anticipatory pleasure
regarding an eminent visitation from an eccentric philanthropist among
whose folkloric appellations is the honorific title of St. Nicholas.

The prepubescent siblings, comfortably ensconced in their respective
accommodations of repose, were experiencing subconscious visual
hallucinations of variegated fruit confections moving rhythmically
through their cerebrums. My conjugal partner and I, attired in our
nocturnal head coverings, were about to take slumberous advantage
of the hibernal darkness when upon the avenaceous exterior portion
of the grounds there ascended such a cacophony of dissonance
that I felt compelled to arise with alacrity from my place of repose
for the purpose of ascertaining the precise source thereof.

Fastening to the casement, I forthwith opened the barriers sealing
this fenestration, noting thereupon that the lunar brilliance without,
reflected as it was on the surface of a recent crystalline
precipitation, might be said to rival that of the solar meridian itself;
thus permitting my incredulous optical sensory organs to behold a
miniature airborne runnered conveyance drawn by eight diminutive
specimens of the genus ragifer.
Piloted by a minuscule aged chauffeur so ebullient and nimble that it
became instantly apparent to me that he was indeed our anticipated
caller. With his ungulate motive power traveling at what may have been
more vertigiuous velocity than patriotionalar predators, he vodiferated
loudly, exuelled breath musically through labial sounds, and addressed
each of the octet by his or her respected cognomen; Now Dasher, now
Dancer, et al.  Guiding them to the uppermost exterior level of our
abode, through which structured could readily distinguish the
concatenations of each of the 32 cloven pedal extremities.

As I retracted my cranium from its erstwhile location, and was
performing a 180-degree pivot, our distinguished visitant achieved, with
utmost celerity in animal pelts soiled by the ebon residue from
oxidations of carbonifbrous fuels which had accumulated on the walls
thereof.  His resemblance to a street vendor I attributed largely to the
planthora of assorted playthings which he bore dorsally in a commodious
cloth receptacle.

His orbs were scintillant with reflected luminosity, while his
submaxillary dermal indentations gave every evidence of exgaging
amiability.  The capillaries of his molar regions and nasal appurtenance
were engorged with blood which suffused the subcutaneous layers, the
former approximating the coloration of Albion's floral embelem, the
latter that of the Prunus avium, or sweet cherry.  His amusing sub- and
superalabials resembled nothing so much as a common loop knot, and their
amdent hirsute facial adornment appeared like small, tabular and
columnar crystals of frozen water.

Clenched firmly between his incisors was a smokingpiece whose gray
fumes, forming a tenuous ellipse about his occiput, were suggestive of a
decorative seasonal circlet of holly.  His visage was wider than it was
high, and when he waxed audibly mirthful, his corpulent abdominal region
undulated in the manner of impectinated fruit syrup in a hemispherical
container. He was, in short, neither more nor less than an obese,
jocund, multigenarian gnome, the optical perception of whom rendered me
visible frolicsome despite every effort to refrain from so being.  By
rapidly lowering and then elevating one eyelid and rotating his head
slightly to one side he indicated that trepidation on my part was
groundless.

Without utterance and with dispatch, he commenced filling the
aforementioned hosiery with various of the aforementioned articles of
merchandise extracted from his aforementioned previously dorsally
transported cloth receptacle. Upon completion of his task, he executed
an abrupt aboutface, placed a singular manual digit in lateral
juxtaposition to his olfactory organ, inclined his cranium forward in a
gesture of leave taking, and forthwith effected his egress by
renegotiating (in reverse) the smoke passage. He then propelled himself
in a short vector onto his conveyance, directed a musical expulsion of
air through his contracted oral sphincter to the antlered quadrupeds
among the seed-bearing portions of a common weed. But I overheard
his parting exclamation, audible immediately prior to his vehiculation
beyond the limits of visibility:


Estatic Yuletide to the planetary constituency, and to that selfsame
assemblage, my sincerest wished for a salubriously beneficial and
gratifyingly pleasurable period between sunset and dawn !


> OBJoke: for our Moderator and all-round friend/servant

 'Twas the night before Solstice <December 22 in N.Z.>
 by James Finn Garner

 Twas the night before solstice and all through the co-op
 Not a creature was messing the calm status quo up.

 The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
 Dreaming of lentils and warm whole-grain breads.

 We'd welcomed the winter that day after school
 By dancing and drumming and burning the Yule,

 A more meaningful gesture to honor the planet
 Than buying more trinkets for Mom or Aunt Janet,

 Or choosing a tree just to murder and stump it
 And dress it all up like a seasonal strumpet.

 My lifemate and I, having turned down the heat,
 Slipped under the covers for a well-deserved sleep,

 When from out on the lawn there came such a roar
 I fell from my futon and rolled to the floor.

 I crawled to the window and pulled back the latch,
 And muttered, "Aw, where is that Neighborhood Watch?"

 I saw there below through the murk of the night
 A sleigh and eight reindeer of nonstandard height.

 At the reins of that sleigh sat a mean-hearted knave
 Who treated each deer like his personal slave.

 I'd seen him before in some ads for car loans,
 Plus fast food and soft drinks and cellular phones.

 He must have cashed in from his mercantile chores,
 Since self-satisfaction just oozed from his pores.

 He called each by name, as if he were right
 To treat them like humans, entrenching his might:

 "Now Donner, now Blitzen," and other such aliases,
 Showing his true Eurocentrical biases.

 With a snap of his fingers away they all flew,
 Like lumberjacks served up a plate of tofu.

 Up to the rooftop they carried the sleigh
 (The holes in the shingles are there to this day).

 Out bounded the man, who sent straight to the flue.
 I knew in an instant just what I should do.

 After donning my slippers, downstairs did I dash
 to see this trespasser emerge from the ash.

 His clothes were all covered with soot, but of course,
 From our wood-fueled alternative energy source.

 Through the grime I distinguished the make of his duds--
 He was dressed all in fur, fairly dripping with blood.

 "We're a cruelty-free house!" I proclaimed with such heat
 He was startled and tripped on the logs at his feet.

 He stood back up dazed, but with mirth in his eyes.
 It was then that I noticed his unhealthy size.

 He was almost as wide as when standing erect,
 A lover of fatty fried foods, I suspect.

 But that wasn't all to make sane persons choke:
 In his teeth sat a pipe that was belching out smoke!

 I could scarcely believe what invaded our house.
 This carcinogenic and overweight louse

 Was so red in the face from his energy spent,
 I expected a heart attack right there and then.

 Behind him he toted a red velvet bag
 Full to exploding with sinister swag.

 He asked, "Where is your tree?" with a face somewhat long.
 I said, "Out in the yard, which is where it belongs."

 "But where will I put all the presents I've brought?"
 I looked at him squarely and said, "Take the lot

 "To some frivolous people who think that they need
 to succumb to the sickness of commerce and greed,

 "Whose only joy comes from he act of consuming,
 Thus sending the stock of the retailers booming."

 He blinked and said, "Ho, ho, ho! But you're kidding."
 I gave him a stare that was stern and forbidding.

 "Surely children need something with which to have fun?
 It's like childhood's over before it's begun."

 He looked in my eyes for some sign of assent,
 But I strengthened my will and refused to relent.

 "They have plenty of fun," I cut to the gist,
 "And your mindless distractions have never been missed.

 "They take CPR so that they can save lives,
 And go door-to-door for the used clothing drives.

 "They recycle, renew, reuse -- and reveal
 For saving the planet a laudable zeal.

 "When they padlock themselves to a fence to protest
 Against nuclear power, we think they're the best."

 He said, "But they're children -- lo, when do they play?"
 I countered, "Is that why you've driven your sleigh,

 "To bring joy to the hearts of each child and tot?
 All right, open your bag; let's see what you've got."

 He sheepishly did as I'd asked and behold!
 A Malibu Barbie in a skirt made of gold.

 "You think that my girls will like playing with this,
 An icon of sexist, consumerist kitsch?

 "With it's unnatural figure and airheaded grin,
 This trollop makes every girl yearn to be thin,

 "And take up fad diets and bingeing and purging
 Instead of respecting her own body's urging

 "To welcome the shape that her body has found
 And rejoice to be lanky, short, skinny, or round."

 Deep in his satchel he searched for a toy,
 Saying, "This is a hit with most little boys."

 And what did he put in my trembling hand
 But a gun from the BrainBlaster Power Command!

 "It's a 'hit,' to be sure," I sneered in his face,
 "And a plague to infect the whole human race!

 "How 'bout grenades or some working bazookas
 To turn all of our kids into half-wit palookas?"

 I seized on his bag just to see for myself
 The filth being spread by this odious elf.

 An Easy-Bake Oven -- ah, goddess, what perfidy!
 To hoodwink young girls into household captivity!

 Plus an archer play set with shafts that fly out,
 The very thing needed to put your eye out.

 And toy metal tractors, steam shovels, and cranes
 For tearing down woodlands and scarring the plains,

 Plus "games" like Monopoly, Pay Day, Tycoon,
 As if lessons in greed can't start up too soon.

 And even more weapons from BrainBlastersCo.,
 Like cannons and nunchucks and ray guns that glow.

 That's all I could find in his red velvet sack --
 Perverseness and mayhem to set us all back.

 (But I did find one book that caused me to ponder --
 Some fine bedtime tales by a fellow named Garner.)

 "We need none of this," I announced in a huff,
 "No 'business-as-usual' holiday stuff.

 "We sow in our offspring more virtue than this.
 Your 'toys' offer some things they never will miss."

 The big man's expression was a trifle bereaved
 As he shouldered his pack and got ready to leave.

 "I pity the kids who grow up around here,
 Who're never permitted to be of good cheer,

 "Who aren't allowed leisure for leisure's own sake,
 But must fret every minute -- it makes my heart break!"

 "Enough histrionics! Don't pity our kids
 If they don't do as Macy's or Toys 'R' Us bids.

 "They live by their principles first and foremost
 And know what's important," to him did I boast.

 "Pray, could I meet them" "Oh no, they're not here.
 They're up on the roof, liberating your deer!"

 Then Santa Claus sputtered and pointed his finger
 But, mad as he was, he had no time to linger.

 He flew up the chimney like smoke from a fire,
 And up on the roof I heard voices get higher.

 I ran outside the co-op to see him react
 To my children's responsible, kindhearted act.

 He chased them away, and disheartened, dismayed,
 He rehitched his reindeer (who'd docilely stayed).

 I watched with delight as he scooted off then.
 He'd be too embarrassed to come back again.

 But with parting disdain, do you know what he said,
 When this overweight huckster took off in his sled?

 This reindeer enslaver, this exploiter of elves?


> OBJoke: for Mr. <+]::-{(} ("Cyberpope")

Santa slides down a chimney at the first house, and while he is leaving
presents, a little boy comes in the room and offers him milk and cookies.
Santa shakes his head, reciting:
        "Ho-ho-ho, Santa's gotta go.
         Got lots of presents for boys and girls, you know!"

Next house, down the chimney again, and as he is putting out the presents,
an old lady shows up and offers him more cookies and milk.  Once again,
Santa recites:
        "Ho-ho-ho, Santa's gotta go.
         Got lots of presents for boys and girls, you know!"

At the third house, after sliding down the chimney again and delivering
the goodies, Santa is surprised by a gorgeous woman dressed only in a
see-through negligee, who hands him a drink and invites him to stay
awhile.
Santa looks her over thoughtfully, and recites:
        "Hey-hey-hey, Santa's gonna stay.
        Can't get up the chimney with my dick this way!"




   *                       *
  ###  Merry  Christmas   ###
 #####  Happy New Year   #####
   =      I C E-man        =

... v0.46: MultiMail, the new multi-platform, multi-format offline reader!

--- EzyBlueWave V2.01b005 00F90260
 * Origin: Milky Way, Langley, BC [604] 532-4367 (1:153/307)