PG's Humour

A Dieter's Christmas

A Final Visit from Saint Nicholas

Changes at the North Pole

Christmas Mail

Deck the Halls (anti-Christmas version)

Deck the Halls (pc style)

The Elves' Room

The Flip Side of a Christmas Carol

Gunman finds a friend in Pc he nearly killed

Internet Links and Animations

In case you were fancying an idyllic Christmas on the beach in Australia be warned...

Is there a Santa? (NASA's reply)

Jesus and the Elves

Name that Christmas Tune

Santa and the Angel

This Is What I Call a CHRISTMAS CAKE!

'Twas the Night before Christmas

Twelve Days of Cajun Christmas

The Ultimate Chain Letter

One particular Christmas season a long time ago, Santa was getting ready for his annual trip ... but there were problems everywhere. Four of his elves got sick, and the trainee elves did not produce the toys as fast as the regular ones so Santa was beginning to feel the pressure of being behind schedule.

Then Mrs. Claus told Santa that her mom was coming to visit. This stressed Santa even more.

When he went to harness the reindeer, he found that three of them were about to give birth and two had jumped the fence and were out, heaven knows where. More stress!

Then when he began to load the sleigh one of the boards cracked and the toy bag fell to the ground and scattered the toys.

Santa was now extremely frustrated, and stressed out, so he went into the house for a cup of coffee and a shot of whiskey. When he went to the cupboard, he discovered that the elves had hidden the liquor and there was nothing to drink.

In his frustration, he accidentally dropped the coffee pot and it broke into hundreds of little pieces all over the kitchen floor. He went to get the broom and found that mice had eaten the straw it was made from.

Just then the doorbell rang and Santa cussed on his way to the door. He opened the door and there was a little angel with a great big Christmas tree.

The angel said, very cheerfully, "Merry Christmas Santa. Isn't it just a lovely day? I have a beautiful tree for you. Isn't it just a lovely tree? Where would you like me to stick it?"

Thus began the tradition of the little angel on top of the Christmas tree.

Posted by Suzy from Bake Shoppe

'Twas the night before Christmas and all around my hips
were Fanny May candies that sneaked past my lips.
Fudge brownies were stored in the freezer with care
in hopes that my thighs would forget they were there.

While Mama in her girdle and I in chin straps
had just settled down to sugar-borne naps.
When out in the pantry there arose such a clatter
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter

Away to the kitchen I flew like a flash
tore open the icebox then threw up the sash
The marshmallow look of the new-fallen snow
sent thoughts of a binge to my body below.

When what to my wandering eyes should appear:
a marzipan Santa with eight chocolate reindeer!
That huge chunk of candy so luscious and slick
I knew in a second that I'd wind up real sick.

The sweet-coated Santa, those sugared reindeer
I closed my eyes tightly but still I could hear;
On Pritzer, on Stillman, on weak one, on TOPS
a Weight Watcher dropout from sugar detox.

From the top of the scales to the top of the hall
now dash away pounds now dash away all.
Dressed up in Lane Bryant from my head to nightdress
my clothes were all bulging from too much excess

My droll little mouth and my round little belly
they shook when I laughed like a bowl full of jelly
I spoke not a word but went straight to my work
ate all of the candy then turned with a jerk.

And laying a finger beside my heartburn
I gave a quick nod toward the bedroom I turned
I eased into bed, to the heavens I cry
if temptation's removed I'll get thin by and by.

And I mumbled again as I turned in for the night
in the morning I'll starve...'til I take that first bite!

In the Late 1800s a little girl named Virginia asked the New York Times if there was a Santa Claus. The reply is now famous (oh is it?)

We thought it would be fun to ask the scientists at NASA the same question.

Here is their reply:

"No known species of reindeer can fly. But there ARE 300,000 species of living organisms yet to be classified, and while most of these are insects and germs, this does not completely rule out flying reindeer, which only Santa has seen.

There are two billion children (under 18) in the world. But since Santa doesn't appear to handle Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist and Jewish children, that reduces the workload to 15% of the total - 138 million or so. At an average rate of 3.5 children per household, that's 91.8 million homes. One presumes there is at least one good child in each.

Santa has 31 hours of Christmas to work with, thanks to time zones and the rotation of the earth, assuming he travels east to west. This works out to 822.6 visits per second. This is to say that for each household with good children, Santa has 1/1000th of a second to park, hop out of the sleigh, jump down the chimney, fill the stockings, distribute the remaining gifts under the tree, eat snacks, get back up the chimney, get back into the sleigh, and move to the next house. Assuming that each of these 91.8 million houses are distributed evenly (which we know to be false but for the sake of these calculations we will accept) we are now talking about 0.78 miles per household, a total trip of 75.5 million miles, not counting bathroom stops. This means that Santa's sleigh is travelling at 650 miles per second, 3000 times the speed of sound. For comparison, the fastest man-made vehicle, the Ulysses space probe moves at a poky 27,4 MPS. The average reindeer runs at 15MPH.

The sleigh's payload adds another interesting element. Assuming that each child gets nothing more than a medium sized Lego set (2 pounds), the sleigh is carrying 321,300 TONS not counting Santa, who is invariably described as overweight. On land, conventional reindeer can pull no more than 300 pounds. Even granting that "flying reindeer" (see first paragraph) could pull TEN TIMES the usual amount, we cannot do the job with 8 or even 9. We need 214,000 reindeer. This increases the weight, not even counting the sleigh, to 353,430 tons. Again, for comparison this is 4 times the weight of the Queen Elizabeth 2.

353,000 tons travelling at 650 miles per second creates an enormous air resistance. This will heat the reindeer in the same manner as a spacecraft re-entering the earth's atmosphere. The lead pair of reindeer will absorb 14.3 QUINTILLION joules of energy. Per second. Each. In short, they will burst into flame almost instantaneously, exposing the next pair of reindeer, and creating deafening sonic booms in their wake. The entire team will be vaporized within 4.26 thousands of a second.

Santa, meanwhile, will be subjected to centrifugal forces 17,500.06 times the force of gravity. A 300 pound Santa would be pinned to the back of his sleigh by 4,325,015 pounds of force.

CONCLUSION: There was a Santa, but he's dead now."

Day 1: Dear Boudreaux, Thanks for de bird in de Pear tree. I fix it las' night with dirty rice. I doan tink de pear tree will grow in de swamp, so I swap it for a Satsuma.

Day 2: Dear Boudreaux, You letter say you sent two turtle doves, but all I got was two scrawny pigeons. Anyway, I mixed dem with andouille an made some gumbo out of dem.

Day 3: Dear Boudreaux, Why doan you sent some crawfish? I'm tired of eating dem darn birds. I gave two of dose prissy French chickens to Marie Trahan over at Grans Bayou an fed the tird one to my dog Phideaux. Marie needed some sparing partners for her fighting rooster.

Day 4: Dear Boudreaux, Mon Dieux! I tol you no more birds. Deez four, what you call dem "calling birds" were so noisy you could hear dem all de way to Napoleonville. I used dere necks for my crab traps, an fed de rest of dem to de gators.

Day 5: Dear Boudreaux, You finally sen' somethin useful. I like dem golden rings, me. I hocked dem at da pawn shop in Thibodeaux and got enuf money to fix da shaft on my shrimp boat an buy a round for da boys at de Raisin' Cane Lounge. Merci Beaucoup!

Day 6: Dear Boudreaux, Couchon! Back to da birds, you turkey! Poor egg suckin' Phideaux is scared to death at dem six gaeases. He tried to eat dems eggs and dey peck de heck out ah his snout. Dey good at eating cockroaches, though. I may stuff one of dem wit erster dressing on Christmas day.

Day 7: Dear Boudreaux, I'm gonna wring your fool neck next time I see you. Thibeau, da mailman, is ready to kill ya. The merde from all dem birds is stinkin' up his mailboat. He afraid someone will slip on dat stuff and sue him good. I let those seven swans loose to swim on de bayou and some duck hunters from Mississippi blasted dem out of de water. Talk to you tomorrow.

Day 8: Dear Boudreaux, poor ole Thibeau, he had to make tree trips on his mail boat to deliver dem 8 maids a milkin and their cows. One of dem cows got spooked by da alligators and almost tipped over da boat. I doan like dem shiftless maids, me no. I tolt dem to get to work guttin fish and sweeping the shack but dey say it wasn't in dair contract. Dey probably think dey too good ta skin nutrias I caught las night.

Day 9: Dear Boudreaux, What you trying to do huh? Thibeau had to borrow the Lutcher ferry to carry dem jumpin twits you call Lords-a-Leaping across the bayou. As soon as dey gots here dey wanted a tea break with crumpets. I doan know what dat means but I says, *Well La Di Da. You get Chicory coffee or nuttin. * Mon Dieu, Emile. What I'm gonna feed all dese bozos? Dey too snooty for fried nutria, and de cows done eat my turnip greens.

Day 10: Dear Boudreaux, You got to be outs you mind! If de mailman don't kill you, I will fo sure. Today he deliver 10 half nikid floozies from Bourbon Street. Dey said dey be *Ladies Dancin* but dey doan act like ladies in front of dose Limey twits. Dey almos left after one of dem got bit by a water moccasin over by da out-house. I had to butcher 2 cows to feed toute le monde an had to get toilet paper. The Sears catalog wasn't good enuf fer dose hoity toity Lords.

Day 11: Dear Boudreaux, where y'at? Cheerio an pip pip. Your 11 pipers piping arrives today from the House of Blues, second lining as dey got off de boat. We fixed snuffed goose and beef jambalaya, finished da whiskey and we having a fais-do-do. Da new mailman he drink a bottle of Jack Daniel an he having a good time yeah dancing with de floozies. Thibeau he jump off de Sunshine Bridge yesterday, screaming your name. If you get a mysterious, ticking package in de mail, doan open it.

Day 12: Dear Boudreaux, I sorry to tell ya but I not your true love anymore, no. After da fais-do-do, I spent de night with Jacque, de head piper. We decide to open a restaurant and gentleman's club on de bayou. The Ladies dancing can make $20 for a dance, and de Lords can be waiters an valet park de boats. Since de maids doan have no more cows ta milk, I trained dem ta set my crab traps, watch my trotlines, an run my shrimping business. We will probably gross a million clams nex year.

1. My sole desire for the Yuletide Season is a pair of central incisors.

2. From dark till dawn, soundless and sanctimonious.

3. The antlered quadruped with the flaming proboscis.

4. The event occurred at one minute after 11:59 P.M. with visibility unlimited.

5. Ornament the enclosure with large sprigs of berry-bearing evergreen.

6. Personal hallucinations of an alabaster December 25th.

7. A dozen 24 hour periods of Noel.

8. Clappered inverted cups of precious metal.

9. In a distant bovine diner.

10. Universal elation.

11. Yuletide emissary is proceeding to the village.

12. The approach of the holiday commemorating the birth of Christ is becoming evident.

13. The diminutive male of less than adult age who plays a percussion instrument.

14. Primary Yuletide.

15. Reigning monarchs of the far east.
 
 

Answers:

1. All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth

2. Silent Night

3. Rudolph, the Red Nosed Reindeer

4. It Came Upon the Midnight Clear

5. Deck the Halls

6. I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas

7. The Twelve Days of Christmas

8. Jingle Bells

9. Away in a Manger

10. Joy to the World

11. Santa Claus is Coming to Town

12. Christmas is Coming

13. Little Drummer Boy

14. First Noel

15. We Three Kings of Orient Are

Deck the halls with boughs of non-endangered plant species
Fa la la la la, la la la la
'Tis the season to be self-actualizing,
Fa la la la la, la la la la
Don we now our alternative-lifestyle apparel
Fa la la la la, la la la la
Toll the ancient non-denominational-winter-solstice-holiday carol
Fa la la la la, la la la la

See the blazing log of non-denominational-winter-solstice-holiday-non-endangered wood before us,
Fa la la la la, la la la la
Play the harp without unnecessary brutality and join the chorus
Fa la la la la, la la la la
Sing we emotionally stable in a collective group effort,
Fa la la la la la la la la
Heedless of the weather patterns despite the effects of global warming,
Fa la la la la, la la la la
Fast away the mature year passes
Fa la la la la la la la la
Hail the new year without any implicit ageism, ye persons
Fa la la la la la la la la
Dance in a non-hierarchical manner in merry measure,
Fa la la la la la la la la
While I tell of non-materialistic, non-denominational-winter-solstice-holiday treasure,
the Fa la la la la, la la la la.

'Twas the night before Christmas and one thing was clear--
that old Yuletide spirit no longer was here.
Inflation was rising; the crime rate was tripling;
the fuel bills were up, and our mortgage was crippling;

I opened a beer as I watched TV,
where Donny sang "O Holy Night" to Marie;
the kids were in bed, getting sleep like they should;
or else they were stoned, which was almost as good.

While Ma with her ball-point was making a fuss
'bout folks we'd send cards to who'd sent none to us;
"Those ingrates," she thundered, and pounded her fist;
"Next year you can bet they'll be crossed off our list!"

When out in the yard came a deafening blare;
'twas our burglar alarm, and I hollered, "Who's there?"
I turned on the searchlight, which lit up the night,
and, armed with my handgun, beheld a strange sight.

Some red-suited clown with a white beard immense
was caught in our eight foot electrified fence;
he called out, "I'm Santa! I bring you no malice!"
Said I, "if you're Santa, I'm Telly Savalas!"

But, lo, as his presence grew clear to me,
I saw in the glare that it just might be he!
Called off our Doberman clawing his sleigh
and, frisking him twice, said, "I think he's ok."

I led him inside where he slumped in a chair,
and he poured out the following tale of despair;
"On Christmas eves past I was jolly and chuckling,
but now 'neath the pressures, I fear I am buckling."

"You'll note I've arrived with no reindeer this year,
and without them, my sleigh is much harder to steer;
although I would like to continue to use them,
the wildlife officials believe I abuse them."

"To add to my problem, Ralph Nader dropped by
and told me my sleigh was unsafe in the sky;
I now must wear seatbelts, despite my objections,
and bring in the sleigh twice a year for inspections."

"Last April my workers came forth with demands,
and I soon had a general strike on my hands;
I couldn't afford to pay unionized elves,
so the missus and I did the work ourselves."

"And then, later on, came additional trouble--
an avalanche left my fine workshop in rubble;
my Allstate insurance was worthless, because
they had shrewdly slipped in a 'no avalanche' clause."

"And after that came an IRS audit;
the government claimed I was out to defraud it;
they finally nailed me for 65 grand,
which I paid through the sale of my house and my land."

"And yet I persist, though it gives me a scare
flying blind through the blanket of smog in the air;
not to mention the hunters who fill me with dread,
taking shots at my sleigh as I pass overhead."

"My torn-up red suit, and these bruises and swellings,
I got fighting muggers in multiple dwellings.
And if you should ask why I'm glowing tonight,
it's from flying too close to a nuclear site."

He rose from his chair and he heaved a great sigh,
and I couldn't help notice a tear in his eye;
"I've tried," he declared, "to reverse each defeat,
but I fear that today I've become obsolete."

He slumped out the door and returned to his sleigh,
and these last words he spoke as he went on his way:
"No longer can I do the job that's required;
if anyone asks, just say, 'Santa's retired!'."

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 myincredulous 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 alarm 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 colouration of Albion's floral emblem, the latter that of the Prunus avium, or sweet cherry. His amusing sub- and supra-labials 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."

From this room came an excited chant "Thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen ..." The mother wondered what could be going on in the elves' room. Still the loud chant came "Thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen..."

The door to the elves' room had a letter box. After a few minutes the mother's curiosity got the better of her. She bent down and opened the letter box a little. She could hear the chanting louder "Thirteen, thirteen, thirteen ..."

As she looked through the letter box she felt a very sharp stabbing pain in her cheek, beside her eye, as a sharp pencil was jabbed very hard through the letter box into her face.

The elves' chant changed: "Fourteen, fourteen, fourteen..."

(Contributed by Celia Procter)

Sample the vodka to check quality.
Take a large bowl, check the vodka again.
To be sure it is the highest quality, pour one level cup and drink.
Repeat.
Turn on the electric mixer. Beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl.
Sample the vodka.
Add one teaspoon of sugar. Beat again.
At this point it's best to make sure the vodka is still OK.
Try another cup .... just in case.
Turn off the mixerer.
Break 2 leggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit.
Pick fruit off floor. Test the Vodka.
Mix on the turner.
If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaterers pry it loose with a drewscriver.
Sample the vodka to check for tonsisticity.
Next, sift two cups of salt. Or something. Who giveshz a fig?
Check the vodka.
Now shift the lemon juice and strain your nuts. Add one table.
Have some Vodka.
Add a spoon of sugar, or some fink. Whatever you can find.
Greash the oven and pee in the fridge.
Turn the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to fall over.
Don't forget to beat off the turner.
Finally, throw the bowl through the window, finish the vodka and kick the Dog.
Fall into bed.

The recent announcement that Donner and Blitzen have elected to take the early reindeer retirement package has triggered a good deal of concern about whether they will be replaced, and about other restructuring decisions at the North Pole. Streamlining was necessary due to the North Pole's loss of dominance of the season's gift distribution business.

Home shopping channels and mail order catalogues have diminished Santa's market share. He could not sit idly by and permit further erosion of the profit picture.

The reindeer downsizing was made possible through the purchase of a late model Japanese sled from Nissan's annual trip. Improved productivity from Dasher and Dancer, who spent the summer at the London School of Economics, is anticipated. Reduction in reindeer will also lessen airborne environmental emissions for which the North Pole has received unfavourable press.

I am pleased to inform you that Rudolph's role will not be disturbed. Tradition still counts for something at the North Pole. Management denies, in the strongest possible language, the earlier leak that Rudolph's nose got that way, not from the cold, but from substance abuse. Calling Rudolph "a lush who was into the sauce and never did pull his share of the load" was an unfortunate comment, made by one of Santa's helpers and taken out of context at a time of
year when he is known to be under executive stress.

As a further restructuring, today's global challenges require the North Pole to continue to look for better, more competitive steps. Effective immediately, the following economy measures are to take place in the "Twelve Days of Christmas" subsidiary:

* The partridge will be retained, but the pear tree never turned out to be the cash crop forecasted. It will be replaced by a plastic hanging plant, providing considerable savings in maintenance;

* The two turtle doves represent a redundancy that is simply not cost effective. In addition, their romance during working hours could not be condoned. The positions are therefore eliminated;

* The three French hens will remain intact. After all, everyone loves the French;

* The four calling birds were replaced by an automated voice mail system, with a call waiting option. An analysis is underway to determine who the birds have been calling, how often and how long they talked;

* The five golden rings have been put on hold by the Board of Directors. Maintaining a portfolio based on one commodity could have negative implications for institutional investors. Diversification into other precious metals and high technology stocks appear to be in order;

* The six geese-a-laying constitutes a luxury which can no longer be afforded. It has long been felt that the production rate of one egg per goose per day is an example of the decline in productivity. Three geese will be let go, and an upgrading in the selection procedure by personnel will assure management that from now on every goose it gets will be a good one;

* The seven swans-a-swimming is obviously a number chosen in better times. The function is primarily decorative. Mechanical swans are on order. The current swans will be retrained to learn some new strokes and therefore enhance their outplacement;

* As you know, the eight maids-a-milking concept has been under heavy scrutiny by the EC. A male/female balance in the workforce is being sought. The more militant maids consider this a dead-end job with no upward mobility. Automation of the process may permit the maids to try a-mending, a-mentoring or a-mulching;

* Nine ladies dancing has always been an odd number. This function will be phased out as these individuals grow older and can no longer do the steps;

* Ten Lords-a-leaping is overkill. The high cost of Lords plus the expense of international air travel prompted the Compensation Committee to suggest replacing this group with ten out-of-work politicians. While leaping ability may be somewhat sacrificed, the savings are significant because we expect an oversupply of unemployed politicians this year.

* Eleven pipers piping and twelve drummers drumming is a simple case of the band getting too big. A substitution with a string quartet, a cutback on new music and no uniforms will produce savings which will drop right down to the bottom line.

We can expect a substantial reduction in assorted people, fowl, animals and other expenses. Though incomplete, studies indicate that stretching deliveries over twelve days is inefficient. If we can drop ship in one day, service levels will be improved. Regarding the lawsuit filed by the lawyer's association seeking expansion to include the legal profession ("thirteen lawyers-a-suing") action is pending.

Lastly, it is not beyond consideration that deeper cuts may be necessary in the future to stay competitive. Should that happen, the Board will request management to scrutinize the Snow White Division to see if seven dwarfs is the right number.

In case you were fancying an idyllic Christmas on the beach in Australia be warned....

Let's learn from the mistakes of our Australian cousins and stay safe over Christmas.

3 Australians die each year testing if a 9V battery works on their tongue.

142 Australians were injured in 1998 by not removing all the pins from new shirts.

58 Australians are injured each year by using sharp knives instead of screwdrivers.

31 Australians have died since 1996 by watering their Christmas tree while the fairy lights were plugged in.

19 Australians have died in the last 3 years by eating Christmas decorations they believed were chocolate.

Hospitals reported 4 broken arms last year after cracker pulling incidents.

101 Australians since 1997 have had to have broken parts of plastic toys pulled out of the soles of their feet.

18 Australians had serious burns in 1998 trying on a new jumper with a lit cigarette in their mouth.

A massive 543 Australians were admitted to casualty in the last two years after opening bottles of beer with their teeth or eye socket.

5 Australians were injured last year in accidents involving out of control Scalextric cars.

... and finally 8 Australians cracked their skull in 1997 after falling asleep (passing out) whilst throwing up into the toilet.

Jesus and the Elves

By John Leo, author of "Two Steps Ahead of the Thought Police."

And Joseph went up from Galilee to Bethlehem with Mary, his espoused wife, who was great with child. And she brought forth a son and wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger because there was no room for them in the inn. And the angel of the Lord spoke to the shepherds and said, "I bring you tidings of great joy. Unto you is born a Savior, which is Christ the Lord."

"There's a problem with the angel," said a Pharisee who happen to be strolling by. As he explained to Joseph, angels are widely regarded as religious symbols, and the stable was on public property where such symbols were not allowed to land or even hover.
"And I have to tell you, this whole thing looks to me very much like a Nativity scene," he said sadly. "That's a no-no, too."

Joseph had a bright idea. "What if I put a couple of reindeer over there near the ox and ass?" he said, eager to avoid sectarian strife.

"That would definitely help," said the Pharisee, who knew as well as anyone that whenever a savior appeared, judges usually liked to be on the safe side and surround it with deer or woodland creatures of some sort. "Just to clinch it, throw in a candy cane and a couple of elves and snowmen, too," he said. "No court can resist that."

Mary asked, "What does my son's birth have to do with snowmen?"

"Snowpersons," cried a young woman, changing the subject before it veered dangerously toward religion.

Off to the side of the crowd, a Philistine was painting the Nativity scene. Mary complained that she and Joseph looked too tattered and worn in the picture. "Artistic license," he said. "I've got to show the plight of the haggard homeless in a greedy, uncaring society in winter," he quipped. "We're not haggard or homeless. The inn was just full," said Mary.

"Whatever," said the painter.

Two women began to argue fiercely. One said she objected to Jesus' birth "because it privileged motherhood." The other scoffed at virgin births, but said that if they encouraged more attention to diversity in family forms and the rights of single mothers, well, then, she was all for them.

"I'm not a single mother," Mary started to say, but she was cut off by a third woman who insisted that swaddling clothes are a form of child abuse, since they restrict the natural movement of babies.

With the arrival of 10 child advocates, all trained to spot infant abuse and manger rash, Mary and Joseph were pushed to the edge of the crowd, where arguments were breaking out over how many reindeer (or what mix of reindeer and seasonal sprites) had to be installed to compensate for the infant's unfortunate religious character.

An older man bustled up, bowling over two merchants, who had been busy debating whether an elf is the same as a fairy and whether the elf/fairy should be shaking hands with Jesus in the crib or merely standing to the side, jumping around like a sports mascot.

"I'd hold off on the reindeer," the man said, explaining that the use of asses and oxen as picturesque backdrops for Nativity scenes carries the subliminal message of human dominance. He passed out two leaflets, one denouncing manger births as invasions of animal space, the other arguing that stables are "penned environments" where animals are incarcerated against their will. He had no opinion about elves or candy canes.

Signs declaring "Free the Bethlehem 2" began to appear, referring to the obviously exploited ass and ox. Someone said the halo on Jesus' head was elitist.

Mary was exasperated. "And what about you, old mother?" she said sharply to an elderly woman. "Are you here to attack the shepherds as prison guards for excluded species, maybe to complain that singing in Latin identifies us with our Roman oppressors, or just to say that I should have skipped patriarchal religiosity and joined some dumb new-age goddess religion?"

"None of the above," said the woman, "I just wanted to tell you that the Magi are here."

Sure enough, the wise men rode up. The crowd gasped, "They're all male!"

And "Not very multicultural!"

"Balthazar here is black," said one of the Magi.

"Yes, but how many of you are gay or disabled?" someone shouted. A committee was quickly formed to find an impoverished lesbian wise-person among the halt and lame of Bethlehem.

A calm voice said, "Be of good cheer, Mary, you have done well and your son will change the world." At last, a sane person, Mary thought. She turned to see a radiant and confident female face. The woman spoke again: "There is one thing, though. Religious holidays are important, but can't we learn to celebrate them in ways that unite, not divide? For instance, instead of all this business about 'Gloria in excelsis Deo,' why not just 'Season's Greetings'?"

Mary said, "You mean my son has entered human history to deliver the message, 'Hello, it's winter'?"

"That's harsh, Mary," said the woman. "Remember, your son could make it big in midwinter festivals, if he doesn't push the religion thing too far. Centuries from now, in nations yet unborn, people will give each other pricey gifts and have big office parties on his birthday. That's not chopped liver."

"Let me get back to you," Mary said.

(the Laughter List)

The Ultimate Christmas Chain Letter

Dear Friends and Family:

At this time of year, I want to thank all of you who have taken the time and trouble to send me your chain letters over the past 12 months. Thank you for making me feel safe, secure, blessed, and wealthy. Because of your concern I no longer drink Coca Cola because it can remove toilet stains. I no longer drink Pepsi or Dr Pepper since the people who make these products are atheists who refuse to put "Under God" on their cans.

I no longer drink anything out of a can because I will get sick from the rat faeces and urine. I no longer use Saran wrap in the microwave because it causes cancer. I no longer check the coin return on pay phones because I could be pricked with a needle infected with AIDS.

I no longer use cancer-causing deodorants even though I smell like a water buffalo on a hot day. I no longer go to shopping malls because someone will drug me with a perfume sample and rob me.

I no longer receive packages from UPS or FedEx since they are actually Al Qaeda in disguise. I no longer shop at Target since they are French and don't support our American troops. I no longer answer the phone because someone will ask me to dial a number for which I will get a phone bill with calls to Jamaica, Uganda, Singapore, and Uzbekistan. I no longer eat pre-packaged foods because the estrogens they contain will turn me gay.

I no longer eat KFC because their chickens are actually horrible mutant freaks with no eyes or feathers. I no longer date the opposite sex because they will take my kidneys and leave me taking a nap in a bathtub full of ice. I no longer have any sneakers -- but that will change once I receive my free replacement pair from Nike.

I no longer buy expensive cookies from Neiman Marcus since I now have their recipe. I no longer worry about my soul because I have 363,214 angels looking out for me and St. Theresa's novena has granted my every wish. Thanks to you, I have learned that God only answers my prayers if I forward an email to seven of my friends and make a wish within five minutes. (I don't remember that in the Bible.)

I no longer have any savings because I gave it to a sick girl who is about to die in the hospital (for the 1,387,258th time). I no longer have any money at all, but that will change once I receive the $15,000 that Microsoft and AOL are sending me for participating in their special e-mail program. Yes, I want to thank all of you soooo much for looking out for me that I will now return the favor!

If you don't send this e-mail to at least 144,000 people in the next 70 minutes, a large dove with diarrhea will land on your head at 5:00 PM (CST) this afternoon and the fleas from 12 camels will infest your back, causing you to grow a hairy hump. I know this will occur because it actually happened to a friend of my next door neighbor's ex-mother-in-law's second husband's cousin's beautician! Honest!

Love in our bond,
Doc

PS: The Laughter List is not responsible for any misfortune, real or imagined, which might occur after the receipt of this email.

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Gunman finds a friend in Pc he nearly killed

BY Richard SAVILL

A CHRISTMAS CARD has led to an enduring friendship between an armed bank robber and the policeman he shot in the face.

Billy Burns, a former constable, nearly died when a bullet ripped through his mouth, destroying five teeth and lodging in the back of his throat.

His wife was pregnant with their third child and the attack ended his career.

But he nevertheless sent a Christmas card to the robber, Stephen Korsa‑Acquah, who was serving his sentence in Broadmoor.

The gesture was a turning point in Mr Korsa‑Acquah's life as a career criminal.

He asked to see Mr Burns at Broadmoor ‑ the first time there had been such a meeting between a victim and his attacker at the hospital ‑ and the two began their friendship.

This Christmas Mr Korsa‑Acquah is free on licence after Mr Burns spoke up for him at his parole hearing. The former robber is trying to use his experiences to persuade teenagers not to enter a life of crime. He is working with school pupils. in Haringey, north London, as a member of Peace Alliance, a group campaigning to stop gun crime in the area.

"Billy totally changed the way I perceived things," said Mr Korsa‑Acquah, 41. "If he could be so open towards me then surely; whatever I'd done, I could deal with it just as openly."

Mr Burns was shot on April 6, 1983, when he investigated a robbery at a Lloyds Bank branch in Bristol. Mr Korsa‑Acquah fled, hijacked two vehicles and was chased through three counties before being caught on the M4. He served two decades in prison, much of it in Broadmoor, for the attempted murder of Mr Burns and 17 armed robberies.

Mr Korsa‑Acquah, brought up in Tottenham, north London, one of four boys and six girls, was expelled from school at 16 for cutting another pupil with a knife. His father died when he was 17 and his mother lived in Ghana. He had no qualifications and had to look after the younger children.

  He gave up looking for a job and found it easy to obtain a weapon. His gang robbed banks and ambushed security vans, financing a "fantasy life" of fast cars, drugs, and parties, he told the Bristol Evening Post.

  Recalling the shooting of Mr Burns, he said: '.At that moment we were two people on opposite ends of the spectrum. The logic I had in my head at the time was: 'Well, I didn't ask him to chase me.' We were both in these roles and I just reacted. Shooting him was a reflex, panic reaction because 1 was prepared to do what I had to do to avoid being caught."

During his time in prison, he started "wanting to do something positive". "Part of that turned out to be to apologise to Billy and explain that what I'd done hadn't been personal." Despite being seriously injured and medically retired from the police force, Mr Burns agreed to meet his attacker and accepted his apology.

Mr Burns, who runs a security business, said: "I had no issues with forgiving him. That was the very essence of my Christian faith. It's not about condoning or justifying someone's actions, but it releases you from what can actually be a very cancerous bitterness.

He praised his attacker for his work against crime.

"Stephen has been there and can speak from experience. Kids respect that. I've seen him working with I5 and 16‑year‑olds, who are difficult to get through to at the best of times, and you can tell they're listening to what he's got to say.

"It's so satisfying seeing Stephen moving on. It's good to feel I've done something to help that happen. 

"But it's not a one way thing. Stephen has contributed to my quality of life. He's a true friend."

(Contribute by John Holyome)

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Deck the Halls (anti-Christmas version)
 

Words: traditional English - well, kind of.
Tune: Nos Galan, traditional Welsh

Trek to malls with bags of lolly
Fa la la la la la la la la.
Overload the shopping trolley
Fa la la la la la la la la.
Yuletide's costly, don't you dread it?
Fa la la la la la la la la
Damn! my card's run out of credit
Fa la la la la la la.

Take the kids to Santa's grotto
Fa la la etc.
(Hope he's not completely blotto)
Fa la la etc.
Write the cards with smudgy biro
Fa la la etc.
Two pounds ten to post to Cairo?
Fa la la etc.

What's that dreadful caterwauling?
Fa la la etc.
Carol singers - quite appalling!
Fa la la etc.
Wish this Überfest were over
Fa la la etc.
Pack the car and head for Dover
Fa la la etc.

Aren't the in-laws simply awful?
Fa la la etc.
Pity murder isn't lawful
Fa la la etc.
Christmas telly's really boring
Fa la la etc.
Gran's asleep and gently snoring
Fa la la etc.

Grit your teeth and keep on smiling
Fa la la etc.
Gosh! this whisky's quite beguiling
Fa la la etc.
Get more bottles from the cellar
Fa la la etc.
(Antidote to salmonella)
Fa la la etc.

Soon I feel a pulse of pleasure
Fa la la etc.
Stop hard work, enjoy the leisure
Fa la la etc.
Call a halt to all these bleatings
Fa la la etc.
"Merry Christmas! Season's Greetings!"
Fa la la etc.

(Contributed by Darrell Barnes)

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Christmas Mail

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