Posted on 12/08/2004 11:06:54 AM PST by BJClinton
The Twelve Days of Christmas revisted.
On the 12th day of Eurocentrically imposed midwinter festival my significant other in a consenting, adult, monogamous, relationship gave to me:
Twelve males reclaiming their inner warrior through ritual drumming.
Eleven pipers piping (plus an 18 member pit orchestra made up of members in good standing of the Musicians Equity Union as called for in their union contract, even though they will not be asked to play a note.)
Ten melanin deprived testosterone poisoned scions of the patriarchal ruling class system leaping.
Nine persons engaged in rhythmic self-expression.
Eight economically disadvantaged female persons stealing milk products from enslaved bovine Americans.
Seven endangered swans swimming on federally protected wetlands.
Six enslaved fowl-Americans producing stolen non-human animal products.
Five golden symbols of culturally sanctioned enforced domestic incarceration.(After members ofl the Animal Liberation Front threatened to tthrow red paint at my computer, the calling birds, hens and partridge have been reintroduced to their native habitat. To avoid further Animal-American enslavement, the remaining gift package has been revised.)
Four hours of recorded whale songs.
Three deconstructionist poets.
Two Sierra Club calendars printed on recycled processed tree carcasses, and
One Spotted owl activist chained to an old-growth pear tree.
Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Good Kwanzaa,, Blessed Yule, and Happy Holidays*
*unless you are suffering from seasonally affected disorder(SAD). If this is the case, please substitute this gratuitous call for celebration with the suggestion that you have a thoroughly adequate day.
MErry Christmas to you too, nbut I think Allan Sherman had the best version:
"An automatic vegetable slicer that works when you see it on television But not when you get it home
C: A chromium combination manicure, scissors and cigarette lighter
S: A pair of teakwood showercloths
C: An indoor plastic birdbath
S: A pink satin pillow that said "San Diego" with fringe all around it
C: A hammered aluminum nutcracker
S: A statue of a lady with a clock where her stomach ought to be
C: A simulated alligator wallet
S: A calendar book with the name of my insurance man
C: Green polka dot pajamas
B: AND A JAPANESE TRANSISTOR RADIO
S: MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYBODY!"
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! (I'll be out of town for the holidays and nowhere near a computer.) Here's one I rec'd:
Twas! the night before Christmas
and all through the town
Not a sign of Baby Jesus
was anywhere to be found.
The people were all busy
with Christmas time chores
Like decorating, and baking,
and shopping in stores.
No one sang "Away in a manger,
no crib for a bed".
Instead, they sang of Santa
dressed-up in bright red.
Mama watched Martha Stewart reruns,
Papa drank beer from a tap.
As hour upon hour
the presents they'd wrap
When what from the TV
suddenly caught their ears ?
'Cept an ad.. which told
of a big sale at Sears.
So away to the mall
they all flew like a flash...
Buying things on credit...
and others with cash!
And, as they made their way home
From their trip to the mall,
Did they think about Jesus?
Oh, no... not at all.
Their lives were so busy
with their Christmas time things
No time to remember
Christ Jesus, the King.
There were presents to wrap
and cookies to bake.
How could they stop! To remember
who died for their sakes?
To pray to the Savior...
they had no time to stop.
Because they needed more time
to "Shop til they dropped!"
On Wal-mart! On K-mart!
On Target! On Penney's!
On Hallmark! On Zales!
A quick lunch at Denny's
From the big stores downtown
to the stores at the mall
They would dash away, dash away,
and visit them all!
And up on the roof,
there arose such a clatter
As grandpa hung icicle lights
up on his brand new step ladder.
He hung lights that would flash.
He hung lights that would twirl.
Yet, he never once prayed to Jesus...
Light of the World.
Christ's eyes... how they twinkle!
Christ's Spirit... how merry!
Christ's love... how enormous!
All our burdens... He'll carry!
So instead of being busy,
overworked, and uptight
Let's put Christ back in
Christmas and enjoy
some good nights!
Merry Christmas!
For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son that whosoever believeth in Him shall not perish but have everlasting life.
John 3:16
Hah. Good.
Whatever happened to the Rainbow Man?
I love it.
Musta missed something. What's "Rainbow Man"?
The rainbow man flipped out and took some hostages in a hotel room. He is now serving a long sentence in a California(I think) prison. There was some documentary about him on TV a few months ago.
Day 1. Dear Emile, Thanks for da bird in the Pear tree. I fixed it las night with dirty rice an it was delicious. I doan tink the Pear tree would grow in de swamp, so I swapped it for a Satsuma.
Day 2. Dear Emile, Your letter said you sent 2 turtle dove, but all I got was 2 scrawny pigeon. Anyway, I mixed them with andouille and made some gumbo out of dem.
Day 3. Dear Emile, Why doan you sen me some crawfish? I'm tired of eating dem darned bird. I gave two of those prissy French chicken to Mrs. Fontenot over at Grand Chenier, and fed the tird one to my dog, Phideaux. Mrs. Fontenot needed some sparring partners for her fighting rooster.
Day 4. Dear Emile, Mon Dieux! I tole you no more of dem bird. Deez four, what you call "calling bird" wuz so noisy you could hear dem all da' way to Lafayette. I used they necks for my crab traps, and fed the rest of dem to the gators.
Day 5. Dear Emile, You finally sent something useful. I liked dem golden rings, me. I hocked dem at da' pawn shop in Sulphur and got enough money to fix the shaft on my shrimp boat, and to buy a round for da boys at the Raisin' Cane Lounge.
Merci Beaucoup!
Day 6. Dear Emile, Couchon! Back to da birds, you coonass turkey! Poor egg sucking Phideaux is scared to death ah dem six goose. He try to eat they eggs and they pecked the heck out ah his snout. Dem goose are damm good at eating cockroach around da' house, though. I may stuff one ah dem goose with erster dressing to serve him on Christmas Day.
Day 7. Dear Emile, I'm gonna wring your fool neck next time I see you. Ole Boudreaux, da mailman, is ready to kill you, too. The crap from all dem bird is stinkin up his mailboat. He afraid someone will slip on dat stuff and gonna sue him. I let dem seven swan loose to swim on da bayou and some stupid duck hunter from Mississippi done blasted dem out da water. Talk to you tomorrow.
Day 8. Dear Emile, Poor ole Boudreaux had to make 3 trips on his mailboat to deliver dem 8 maids-a-milking & der cows. One of dem cows got spooked by da alligators and almost tipped over da boat. I doan like dem shiftless maids, me. I told dem to get to work gutting fish and sweeping my shack--but dey say it wasn't in their contract. They probably tink they too good to skin all dem nutria I caught las night.
Day 9. Dear Emile, What you trying to do? Boudreaux had to borrow da Cameron Ferry to carry these jumping twits you call lords-a-leaping across da bayou. As soon as dey got here dey wanted a tea break and crumpets. I doan know what dat means but I says, "Well la di da. You get Chicory coffee or nuthin." Mon Dieux, Emile, what I'm gonna feed all these bozos? They too snooty for fried nutria, and da cow ate up all my turnip green.
Day 10. Dear Emile, You got to be out of you mind. If da mailman don't kill you, I will. Today he deliver 10 half nekkid floozies from Bourbon Street. Dey said they be "ladies dancing" but they doan act like ladies in front of dem Limey sailing boys. Dey almost left after one of them got bit by a water moccasin over by my outhouse. I had to butcher 2 cows to feed toute le monde (everybody) and get toilet paper rolls. The Sears catalog wasn't good enough for dem hoity toity lords. Talk at you tomorrow.
Day 11. Dear Emile, Where Y'at? Cheerio and pip-pip! You 11 Pipers Piping arrived today from the House of Blues, second lining as dey got off da boat. We fixed stuffed goose and beef jumbalaya, finished da whiskey, and we're having a fais-do-do. Da' new mailman drank a bottle of Jack Daniel, and he's having a good old time dancing with the floozies. Da' old mailman done jump off the Moss Bluff Bridge yesterday, screaming you name. If you happen to get a mysterious-looking, ticking package in da mail, don't open it.
Day 12. Dear Emile, Me I'm sorry to tell you--but I am not your true love anymore. After the fais-do-do, I spent da night with Jacque, the head piper. We decide to open a restaurant and gentlemen's club on the bayou. The floozies--pardon me--ladies dancing can make $20 for a table dance, and the lords can be the waiters and valet park da boats. Since da' maids have no more cows to milk, I trained dem to set my crab traps, watch my trotlines, and run my shrimping business. We'll probably gross a million dollars next year.
********************
Lovin' it!!
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Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Good Kwanzaa,, Blessed Yule, and Happy Holidays
Or, more succinctly
Happy HanaRamaKwanzMas
(thanks to Morghanne Q.E. Wolfe-Slattery, Euphorian
via Garage Logic, Gumption County, U.S.A.
[starring Mayor Joe Soucheray, KSTP am1500, Minneapolis/St. Paul])
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