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 December 1 

 Blanch carcass from Thanksgiving turkey. Spray paint gold, 
turnupside down and use as a sleigh to hold Christmas Cards. 


December 2 

    Have Mormon Tabernacle Choir record outgoing Christmas message for answering machine. 


December 3 

   Using candlewick and handgilded miniature pine cones, fashion cat-o-nine tails. Flog Gardener. 


December 4 

Repaint Sistine Chapel ceiling in ecru, with mocha trim. 


December 5 

Get new eyeglasses. Grind lenses myself. 


December 6 

Fax family Christmas newsletter to Pulitzer committee for consideration. 


December 7 

Debug Windows '98 


December 8 

Decorate homegrown Christmas tree with scented candles
 handmade with beeswax from my backyard bee colony. 


December 9 

Record own Christmas album complete with 4 part harmony and all instrument 
accompaniment performed by myself. Mail to all my friends and loved ones. 


December 10 

Align carpets to adjust for curvature of Earth. 


December 11 

Lay Faberge egg. 


December 12 

Erect ice skating rink in front yard using spring water I bottled myself.
Open for neighborhood children's use. 
Create festive mood by handmaking snow and playing my Christmas album. 


December 13 

Collect Dentures. 
They make excellent pastry cutters, particularly for decorative pie crusts. 

December 14 

Install plumbing in gingerbread house. 


December 15 

Replace air in mini-van tires with Glade "holiday scents" 
in case tires are shot out at mall. 


December 17 

Child proof the Christmas tree with garland of razor wire. 


December 19 

Adjust legs of chairs so each Christmas dinner guest 
will be same height when sitting at his or her assigned seat. 


December 20 

Dip sheep and cows in egg whites and roll in confectioner's 
sugar to add a festive sparkle to the pasture. 


December 21 

Drain city reservoir; refill with mulled cider, orange slices and cinnamon sticks. 


December 22 

Float votive candles in toilet tank. 


December 23 

Seed clouds for white Christmas. 


December 24 

Do my annual good deed. Go to several stores. 
Be seen engaged in last minute Christmas shopping,
thus making many people feel less inadequate than they really are. 


December 25 

Bear son. Swaddle. Lay in color-coordinated manger scented with homemade potpourri. 


December 26 

Organize spice racks by genus and phylum. 


December 27 

Build snowman in exact likeness of God. 


December 28 

Take Dog apart. Disinfect. Reassemble. 


December 29 

Hand sew 365 quilts, each using 365 material squares 
I weaved myself used to represent the 365 days of the year. 
Donate to local orphanages. 


December 30 

Release flock of white doves, each individually decorated
 with olive branches, to signify desire of world peace. 


December 31 

 New Year's Eve! Give staff their resolutions. 
Call a friend in each time zone of the world as the clock
strikes midnight in that country. 




I hate to be the one to defy sacred myth, but I believe he's a she. Think about it.
Christmas is a big, organized, warm, fuzzy, nurturing social deal, and I have a tough time
believing a guy could possibly pull it all off! 

For starters, the vast majority of men don't even think about selecting gifts until
Christmas Eve. It's as if they are all frozen in some kind of Ebenezerian Time Warp until
3 p.m. on Dec. 24th, when they -- with amazing calm -- call other errant men and plan for a
last-minute shopping spree. 

Once at the mall, they always seem surprised to find only Ronco products, socket wrench sets, and
mood rings left on the shelves. (You might think this would send them into a fit of panic and guilt, but
my husband tells me it's an enormous relief because it lessens the 11th hour decision-making burden.)
On this count alone, I'm convinced Santa is a woman. Surely, if he were a man, everyone in the
universe would wake up Christmas morning to find a rotating musical Chia Pet under the tree, still in
the bag. 

Another problem for a he-Santa would be getting there. First of all, there would be no reindeer
because they would all be dead, gutted and strapped on to the rear bumper of the sleigh amid
wide-eyed, desperate claims that buck season had been extended. Blitzen's rack would already be on
the way to the taxidermist. 

Even if the male Santa DID have reindeer, he'd still have transportation problems because he would
inevitably get lost up there in the snow and clouds and then refuse to stop and ask for directions. Add
to this the fact that there would be unavoidable delays in the chimney, where the Bob Vila-like Santa
would stop to inspect and repoint bricks in the flue. He would also need to check for carbon monoxide
fumes in every gas fireplace, and get under every Christmas tree that is crooked to straighten it to a
perfectly upright 90-degree angle. 

Other reasons why Santa can't possibly be a man: 

Men can't pack a bag. 

Men would rather be dead than caught wearing red velvet. 

Men would feel their masculinity is threatened...having to be seen with all those elves. 

Men don't answer their mail. 

Men would refuse to allow their physique to be described even in jest as anything remotely
resembling a "bowlful of jelly." 

Men aren't interested in stockings unless somebody's wearing them. 

Having to do the Ho Ho Ho thing would seriously inhibit their ability to pick up women. 

Finally, being responsible for Christmas would require a commitment. 

I can buy the fact that other mythical holiday characters are men......... 

Father Time shows up once a year unshaven and looking ominous. Definite guy. 

Cupid flies around carrying weapons. 

Uncle Sam is a politician who likes to point fingers. 

Any one of these individuals could pass the testosterone screening test. 

But not St. Nick. Not a chance. As long as we have each other, good will, peace on earth, faith and
Nat King Cole's version of "The Christmas Song," it probably makes little difference what gender
Santa is. 

I just wish she'd quit dressing like a guy!!! 


Frosty the snow pimp 

was a jolly happy soul 

with a corn cob pipe 

and a big fuzzy hat 

and to front teeth made out of gold 


Frosty the snow pimp 

was alive as he could be 

when he beat that ho 

then he let you know 

that she owed him some money 


There must have been some magic in that old cocaine that he found 

'cuz when her put it in his head he became the pimp down town. 


Frosty the snow pimp 

was a jolly happy soul 

with a corn cob pipe 

and a big fuzzy hat 

and to front teeth made out of gold 



Not long ago and far away, 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. 
So frustrated, Santa went into the house for a cup of coffee 
and a shot of whiskey. 

When he went to the cupboard, he found the elves had hit the
liquor and there was nothing to drink. 
In his frustration, he 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: "Where would you like to put this tree Santa?"

And that my friend, is how the little angel came to 
be on top of the Christmas tree.



T'was the night before Christmas- Old Santa was pissed 
He cussed out the elves and threw down his list 
Miserable little brats, ungrateful little jerks 
I have good mind to scrap the whole works 

I've busted my ass for damn near a year 
Instead of "Thanks Santa"- what do I hear 
The old lady bitches cause I work late at night 
The elves want more money - There under all fight 

Rudolph got drunk and goosed all the maids 
Donner is pregnant and Vixen has AIDS 
And just when I thought that things would get better 
Those assholes from IRS sent me a letter 

They say I owe taxes - if that ain't damn funny 
Who the hell ever sent Santa Clause any money 
And the kids these days - they all are the pits 
They want the impossible ...Those mean little shits 

I spent a whole year making wagons and sleds 
Assembling dolls...Their arms, legs and heads 
I made a ton of yo yo's - No request for them 
They want computers and robots...they think I'm IBM! 

If you think that's bad...just picture this 
Try holding those brats...with their pants full of piss 
They pull on my nose - they grab at my beard 
And if I don't smile..the parents think I'm weird 

Flying through the air...dodging the trees 
Falling down chimneys and skinning my knees 
I'm quitting this job...there's just no enjoyment 
I'll sit on my fat ass and draw unemployment 

There's no Christmas this year...now you know the reason 
I found me a blonde.. I'm going SOUTH for the season!! 






Miss Aberdeen McHolstein 
69 Cash Ave. 
Beaver Valley, CO.

Dearest John, 

I went to the door today and the postman delivered a 
Partridge in a pear tree. What a thoroughly delightful
gift! I couldn't have been more surprised. 

With deepest love and affection, 

Aberdeen XXXX0000 



Miss Aberdeen McHolstein 
69 Cash Ave. 
Beaver Valley, CO. 

Dearest John, 

Today the postman brought your very sweet gift. Just imagine
Two Turtle Doves! I'm delighted at your very
thoughtful gift. they are just adorable. You big silly, what next? 

All my love, 

Aberdeen 0000XXXX 



Miss Aberdeen McHolstein 
69 Cash Ave. 
Beaver Valley, CO.

Dear John, 

Oh aren't you the extravagant one! Now I really must protest.
I really don't deserve such generosity. Three French Hens they
 are just darling, but I must insist, you've been to kind. 


Aberdeen XX 



Miss Aberdeen McHolstein 
69 Cash Ave. 
Beaver Valley, CO.

Dear John, 

Today the postman delivered Four Calling Birds. 
Now they're beautiful, but don't you think enough is
enough? You're being too romantic. 


Aberdeen XX



Miss Aberdeen McHolstein 
69 Cash Ave. 
Beaver Valley, CO.

Dearest John, 

What a surprise. Today the postman delivered Five Golden Rings; 
one for every finger. You're just impossible, but I love it. 
Frankly all those birds squawking were beginning to get on my nerves. 

All my love, 

Aberdeen XXX00 



Miss Aberdeen McHolstein 
69 Cash Ave. 
Beaver Valley, CO.

Dear John, 

When I opened the door there were actually Six Geese-A-Laying 
on my steps, so you're back to the birds again huh? 
Those geese are HUGE. Where will I ever keep them? 
The neighbors are complaining and I can't
sleep through the racket. Please stop! 





Miss Aberdeen McHolstein 
69 Cash Ave. 
Beaver Valley, CO.


What's with you and those fucking birds. Seven Swans-A-Swimming.
What kind of god joke is this? There's bird shit all over the house, 
and they never stop with the racket. I can't sleep at night and 
I'm a nervous wreck. It's not funny, so stop with those fucking birds. 





Miss Aberdeen McHolstein 
69 Cash Ave. 
Beaver Valley, CO.

Okay Buster, 

I think I prefer the birds. What the hell am I going to do
with Eight Maids-A-Milking? It's not enough with all
those birds and maids-a-milking, but they had to bring
their goddam cows. There's shit all over the lawn, and
I can't move in my own house. What are you doing to me? 
Just lay off me, smart ass! 




Miss Aberdeen McHolstein 
69 Cash Ave. 
Beaver Valley, CO.

Hey Shithead, 

What are you, some kind of sadist? Now there's Nine Piper's 
Piping and Christ do they play! They've never stopped chasing
those maids, since they got here. The cows are getting upset
and they are stepping all over those screeching birds. 
What am I going to do? The neighbors have started a petition 
to have me evicted. 

You'll get yours, 




Miss Aberdeen McHolstein 
69 Cash Ave. 
Beaver Valley, CO.


Now here's Ten Ladies Dancing. I don't know why I call
those sluts ladies. They've been balling those pipers
all night long. Now t he cows can't sleep and they've got diarrhea.
My living room is a river of shit. The Commissioner of buildings
has supponaed me to give cause why the building shouldn't be condemned. 
I'm going to sic the police on you. 

One who means it! 




Miss Aberdeen McHolstein 
69 Cash Ave. 
Beaver Valley, CO.

Listen Fuckhead, 

What's with the Eleven Lords-A-Leaping on those maids and ladies?
Some of those broads will never walk again. 
The pipers ran through the maids and are committing sodomy with the cows. 
All twenty-three of the birds are dead. They were trampled to death in the orgy. 
I hope you're satisfied, you rotten viscous swine. 

Your sworn enemy, 




Badger, Bender and Cajole 
303 Knave St. 
Denver, CO.

This is to acknowledge your latest gift of Twelve Fiddlers 
Fiddling, which you have seen fit to infliction our client, 
Miss Aberdeen McHolstein. The destruction was TOTAL. 
All future correspondence should come to our attention. 

If you should attempt to reach Miss McHolsteinat the Happy Dale
Sanitarium the attendants have instructions to shoot you on sight. 

With this letter please find attached a warrant for your arrest. 


Badger, Bender and Cajole 



John woke up after the annual office Christmas party with
a pounding headache, cotton-mouthed and utterly unable to
recall the events of the preceding evening. 

After a trip to the bathroom, he made his way downstairs, 
where his wife put some coffee in front of him. "Louise," 
he moaned, "tell me what happened last night. 
Was it as bad as I think?" 

"Even worse," she said, her voice oozing scorn. 
"You mad a complete ass of yourself. You succeeded 
in antagonizing the entire board of directors, and 
you insulted the president of the company, right to his face." 

"He's an idiot," John said. "Piss on him." 
"You did", came the reply. "And he fired you." 

"Well, screw him!" said John. 

"I did. You're back at work on Monday." 




NORTH POLE (API) -- Microsoft announced an agreement with Santa
Claus Industries to acquire Christmas at a press conference held
via satellite from Santa's summer estate somewhere in the southern hemisphere.

In the deal, Microsoft would gain exclusive rights to Christmas, 
Reindeer, and other unspecified inventions.  In addition, Microsoft 
will gain access to millions of households through the Santa Sleigh. 

The announcement also included a notice that beginning Jan. 1, 1999,
Christmas and the Reindeer names would be copyrighted by Microsoft. 
This unprecedented move was facilitated by two recent acquisitions, 
the MS Court, formally known as the US Supreme Court and the US 
Department of Justice, yet to be renamed.  Microsoft stated its 
commitment to "all who have made Christmas great," and vowed to 
make licensing of the Christmas and Reindeer names available to all".
It is believed that the guidelines for licensing these
names, due before Halloween, will be very strict. - 
With the MS record for dates this is expected to be revised. 

When asked "Why buy Christmas?" Bill Gates replied "Microsoft has 
been working on a more efficient delivery mechanism for all of our
 products for some time, but recognized that the Santa Sleigh has some
immediate benefits. We'll use it first for the distribution of Windows 97,
I mean Win 98 (maybe a beta version of NT 5.0) and Office 99"? 

In a multimedia extravaganza, the attendees were shown a seemingly 
endless video stream of products that make up the deal. It ended 
with a green and red version of the Microsoft logo, and a new Christmas 98
trademark, leading into the announcement of the first product from the deal. 

Vixen, the new Director of Holidays and Celebrations said, "The first step
is to assimilate Christmas within the Microsoft organization. 
This will take some time, so don't expect any changes this year." 
She continued, "our big plans are for next year, when we release Christmas 99. 
It will be bigger and better than last year."
She further elaborated that "Windows98 users who sign up 
with MSN will get sneak previews of Christmas[99] as early 
as November fifteen." 

Christmas 99 is scheduled for release in December of 1998, 
though one unnamed source said that it is
dangerously close to the end of the year and may slip into the first 
half of 1999 or 2000 (oh! well). An economist at Goldman Sachs 
explained that a slip would be catastrophic to next year's 
economy and the nation's tax revenue, possibly requiring the IRS** 
to move the deadline for filing income tax returns to three
months after Christmas, whenever that was. "But it could be 
good in the long term," he explained. "With Microsoft controlling Christmas,
we may see it move to May or June, which are much slower months for
retailers. This may serve to even out the economy over the year." 
(** As if this date the acquisition of the IRS by Microsoft is pending.) 

When asked if other holidays are being considered, Mr. Gates explained
that "Christmas is the flagship of holidays, so we wanted to start there. 
Not all holidays are available for sale, and the remaining will have to
show a good long term business," suggesting that holidays with a short 
history may not be in the plans. 

Though specific terms of the agreement were withheld pending final 
FTC approval, a Santa official (alias "The Nose") confirmed that the 
deal was "sizeable, even for a man of Santa's stature." Some analysts think
that Santa has saturated the Holiday market, and is looking for a means 
to expand his business to year 'round products and services. 
Others contend that the Jolly Red Man and Mrs. Claus are looking to retire in
Redmond. A spokesperson for the most famous Reindeer could not be reached for comment. 



Twas the night before Xmas 
And all through the house, 
Everyone felt shitty, 
Even the mouse. 

Mom at the whore house and 
Dad smoking grass, and I 
Just settled down for a 
Nice piece of ASS. 

When out on the lawn 
I heard such a clatter, 
I sprang from my piece to see 
What was the matter. 

Then out on the lawn 
I saw a big dick, 
I knew in a moment 
It must be St. Prick. 

He came down the chimney 
Like a bat out of hell, 
I knew in a moment 
The fucker had fell. 

He filled all the stockings 
With pretzels and beer, 
And a big rubber dick 
For my brother, the queer. 

He rose up the chimney 
With a thunderous fart, 
The son-of-a-bitch 
Blew the chimney apart. 

He swore and he cursed 
As he rode out of sight, 



Fruit Cake Recipe 
You'll need the following: 
a cup of water 
a cup of sugar 
four large brown eggs 
two cups of dried fruit 
a teaspoon of salt 
a cup of brown sugar 
lemon juice 
and a bottle of whiskey. 


Sample the whiskey to check for quality. 
Take a large bowl. Check the whiskey again 
(to be sure it's the highest quality) pour one level cup and drink.


Turn on the electric mixer beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl. 

Add one teaspoon of sugar and beat again. 

Make sure the whiskey is still okay. Cry another tup. 

Turn off the mixer. 

Beat two leggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit. 
Mix on the turner. 

If the fired druit gets stuck in the beaterers pry it loose with a drewscriver. 

Sample the whiskey to check for tonsisticity. 

Next sift two cups of salt. Or something. Who cares? Check the whiskey. 

Now sift the lemon juice and strain your nuts. 

Add one table. Spoon. Of sugar or something. Whatever you can find. 

Grease the oven. Turn the cake tin to 350 degrees. 

Don't forget to beat off the turner. Throw the bowl out of the window. 

Check the whiskey again and go to bed. 


Twas the night before Christmas and all round my hips 
were Fannie 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 my 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 sick 

The sweet-coated santa, those sugared reindeer 
I closed my eyes tightly but still I could hear 
On Pritzker, 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 for the night 
in the morning I'll starve...'til I take that first bite! 



T'was the night before Christmas, and all through the shop, 
The computers were whirring; they never do stop. 
The power was on and the temperature right, 
In hopes that the input would feed back that night. 

The system was ready, the program was coded, 
And memory drums had been carefully loaded; 
While adding a Christmasy glow to the scene, 
The lights on the console, flashed red, white and green. 

When out in the hall there arose such a clatter, 
The programmer ran to see what was the matter. 
Away to the hallway he flew like a flash, 
Forgetting his key in his curious dash. 
He stood in the hallway and looked all about, 

When the door slammed behind him, and he was locked out. 
Then, in the computer room what should appear, 
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer; 
And a little old man, who with scarcely a pause, 
Chuckled: "My name is Santa...the last name is Claus." 

The computer was startled, confused by the name, 
Then it buzzed as it heard the old fellow exclaim: 
"This is Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen, 
And Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen." 

With all these odd names, it was puzzled anew; 
It hummed and it clanked, and a main circuit blew. 
It searched in its memory core, trying to "think"; 
Then the multi-line printer went out on the blink. 

Unable to do its electronic job, 
It said in a voice that was almost a sob: 
"Your eyes - how they twinkle - your dimples so merry, 
Your cheeks so like roses, your nose like a cherry, 


Your smile - all these things, I've been programmed to know, 
And at data-recall, I am more than so-so; 
But your name and your address (computers can't lie), 
Are things that I just cannot identify. 

You've a jolly old face and a little round belly, 
That shakes when you laugh like a bowlful of jelly; 
My scanners can see you, but still I insist, 
Since you're not in my program, you cannot exist!" 

Old Santa just chuckled a merry "ho, ho", 
And sat down to type out a quick word or so. 
The keyboard clack-clattered, its sound sharp and clean, 
As Santa fed this "data" to the machine: 

"Kids everywhere know me; I come every year; 
The presents I bring add to everyone's cheer; 
But you won't get anything - that's plain to see; 
Too bad your programmers forgot about me." 


Then he faced the machine and said with a shrug, 
"Merry Christmas to All," as he pulled out its plug


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