You all may have seen this before, but I had to post it...and I'm so proud to annouce I stole it lol

Politically Correct Version of 'The Night Before Christmas!'

'Twas the night before Christmas and Santa's a wreck...
How to live in a world that's politically correct?
His workers no longer would answer to "Elves"
"Vertically Challenged" they were calling themselves
And labor conditions at the north pole
Were alleged by the union to stifle the soul
Four reindeer had vanished, without much propriety
Released to the wilds by the Humane Society
And equal employment had made it quite clear
That Santa had better not use just reindeer
So Dancer and Donner, Comet and Cupid
Were replaced with 4 pigs, and you know that looked stupid!

The runners had been removed from his sleigh;
The ruts were termed dangerous by the E P A
And people had started to call for the cops
When they heard sled noises on their roof-tops
Second-hand smoke from his pipe had his workers quite frightened
His fur trimmed red suit was called "Unenlightened"

And to show you the strangeness of life's ebbs and flows
Rudolf was suing over unauthorised use of his nose
And had gone on Geraldo, in front of the nation
Demanding millions in over-due compensation

So, half of the reindeer were gone; and his wife
Who suddenly said she'd enough of this life
Joined a self-help group, packed, and left in a whiz
Demanding from now on her title was Ms

And as for the gifts, why, he'd ne'er had a notion
That making a choice could cause so much commotion
Nothing of leather, nothing of fur
Which meant nothing for him. And nothing for her
Nothing that might be construed to pollute
Nothing to aim. Nothing to shoot
Nothing that clamoured or made lots of noise
Nothing for just girls. Or just for boys
Nothing that claimed to be gender specific
Nothing that's warlike or non-pacific

No candy or sweets ... they were bad for the tooth
Nothing that seemed to embellish the truth
And fairy tales, while not yet forbidden
Were like Ken and Barbie, better off hidden
For they raised the hackles of those psychological
Who claimed the only good gift was ecological

No baseball, no football ... someone could get hurt;
Besides; playing sports exposed kids to dirt
Dolls were said to be sexist, and should be passe;
And Nintendo would rot your entire brain away

So Santa just stood there, dishevelled, perplexed;
He just could not figure out what to do next
He tried to be merry, tried to be gay
But you've got to be careful with that word today
His sack was quite empty, limp to the ground;
Nothing fully acceptable was to be found

Something special was needed, a gift that he might
Give to all without angering the left or the right
A gift that would satisfy, with no indecision
Each group of people, every religion;
Every ethnicity, every hue
Everyone, everywhere ... even you
So here is that gift, it's price beyond worth ...
"May you and your loved ones enjoy peace on earth"

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I like the bed I'm sleeping in, just like me it's broken in; it's not old -- just older.
Like a favorite pair of torn blue jeans, this skin I'm in it's alright with me; it's not old -- just older.....Bon Jovi

Bravo!

Well stolen.

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Calm, quiet, smooth, devastating

Too FUNNY!

Thanks T!

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Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery, none but ourselves can free our minds.
~Bob Marley
His clothes are dirty, but his hands are clean; and you're the best thing that he's ever seen.
~Bob Dylan

Great one! Thanks, T!

Very cute ... and unfortunately, sounds an awfully lot like "reality" anymore.

'Twas The Night Before Christmas

By a US Federal Contractor, with apologies to Clement Clarke Moore

'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 musculus. Hosiery was meticulously suspended from the forward edge of the wood burning caloric apparatus, pursuant to our anticipatory pleasure regarding an imminent 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.

Hastening 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 Rangifer, 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 travelling at what may possibly have been more vertiginous velocity than patriotic alar predators, he vociferated loudly, expelled breath musically through contracted labia, and addressed each of the octet by his or her respective cognomen - "Now Dasher, now Dancer..." et al. - guiding them to the uppermost exterior level of our abode, through which structure I 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 and via a downward leap - entry by way of the smoke passage. He was clad entirely in animal pelts soiled by the ebony residue from oxidations of carboniferous fuels which had accumulated on the walls thereof. His resemblance to a street vendor I attributed largely to the plethora 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 engaging amiability. The capillaries of his malar regions and nasal appurtenance were engorged with blood which suffused the subcutaneous layers, the former approximating the coloration of Albion's floral emblem, the latter that of the Prunus avium, or sweet cherry. His amusing sub- and supralabials resembled nothing so much as a common loop knot, and their ambient hirsute facial adornment appeared like small, tabular and columnar crystals of frozen water.

Clenched firmly between his incisors was a smoking piece whose grey 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 visibly 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 appended hosiery with various of the aforementioned articles of merchandise extracted from his aforementioned previously dorsally transported cloth receptacle. Upon completion of this task, he executed an abrupt about-face, placed a single 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 of burden, and proceeded to soar aloft in a movement hitherto observable chiefly 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: "Ecstatic Yuletide to the planetary constituency, and to that self same assemblage, my sincerest wishes for a salubriously beneficial and gratifyingly pleasurable period between sunset and dawn."

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Eudaimonia

OMGGGGGG! Someone[s] sure had a lot of idle time on their hands! LMFAO TT! And jseal...whoever wrote that seems to have swallowed Webster's Collegiate! LOL!

Thanks for the funnies you guys!

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Minds are like parachutes. They only work when they are open.

~Thomas Dewar~

To be PC it is no longer Chirstmas it is the Winter Holidays

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lol that was great...way too much PC going on anymore lol..can't say anything without someone getting offended...and what I like to say is "get over it" hehehehhehe

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Xs and Os,
Kristin