*************************************************************** 'Twas the Month before Christmas, and in Framingham, I was following Tradition, with my blue pen in hand ... A long time ago, in a Galaxy far, far away, I was chartered to provide the musical entertainment at the office Christmas party. So I penned a few rewrites on some old songs and A Tradition was born. Published separately are the best from years past. And now I humbly publish and present ... CHRISTMAS 1988 - The Next Generation Begins *************************************************************** Earlier this year I published "Surf Yuppie" (ttto "Surf City"), so it is only fitting that I start the festivities with ... "Surf Christmas" - by D M Goldstein, 1988 (to the tune of "White Christmas") I'm dreaming of a Surf Christmas, Just like the ones from days gone by; Where the wave tops glisten, and surfers listen, to hear breakers twelve feet high. I'm dreaming of a Surf Christmas, to every Surf Dude I confide, Keep your board well waxed, and you'll fly, and "I gotta take that one last ride." *************************************************************** "The Homeless Song (Reaganomics)" - by D M Goldstein, 1988 (to the tune of "The Christmas Song (Chestnuts)") Homeless sitting by an open fire, Frost-bite eating at their toes; Uletide carols being sung by a choir, drive the kids to Overdose. (Everybody knows,) George Bush is our new President, and you know that isn't right; Democrats, with fear in their eyes, will find it hard to sleep tonight. They know that Reagan's had his way, He spent lots of dough, and bought lots of arms in his day; And every Mother's child has cause to fear, 'Cause Repulicans have four more years. And, So, I'm offering this simple phrase, for men eighteen to thirty-three, although it's been said that there won't be a draft, get out of here; get out of here; find another Country. *************************************************************** And for those of you who find "The Season" much too hectic ... "I'll be Cloned for Christmas" - by D M Goldstein, 1988 (to the tune of "I'll be Home for Christmas") I'll be Cloned for Christmas, there'll be three of me; One to Work, and One to Shop, and One just for Partys. Christmas Eve, I'm certain, I won't be alone; I'll be home for Christmas, or else I'll send a Clone! *************************************************************** "Wreck the Malls" - Bob Rivers' Twisted Christmas (to the tune of "Deck the Halls") Wreck the Malls this Christmas Seasons Fa-la-la-la-la, La-la-la-la; You don't need to have a reason Fa-la-la-la-la, La-la-la-la; Tamper with their P A System Fa-la-la, La-la-la, La-la-la; something something something something Fa-la-la-la-la, La-la-la-la. *************************************************************** "Mr Santa Claus" - by D M Goldstein, 1987 (to the tune of "Mr Bojangles") I met a man named Santa, and he'd pose with you, In a red suit. Silver hair, a red jacket, a long white beard, and big black boots. He'd fly so high, oh, he'd fly so high, and then he'd "Ho ho ho!" I met him in a Sears in Alaska, he was down and out. He looked to me to be the eyes of age, as he spoke right out. He talked of elves, yeah, he talked of elves, smiled, "Ho ho ho"'ed and stepped. (Chorus:) Mr Santa Claus. Mr Santa Claus. Mr Santa Claus. "Nick." He made toys for the girls and boys at County Fairs, throughout the South, He spoke in tears of eight reindeer, how they and him just flew about. Now they've all retired, oh, they've all retired, They stay home Christmas Eve. He said "They'd prance at every chance when they would land on roofs like planes, But most 'the time they'd sit around pole and play Those reindeer games." He shook his head, and as he shook his head I thought I heard a "Ho ho ho!" (repeat Chorus and end.) *************************************************************** "I Saw Daddy ..." - by D M Goldstein, 1987 (to the tune of "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus") I saw Daddy kissing Santa Claus when we Christmas shopped last night. They didn't see me creep into the John to take a leak, they thought that they were all alone and so a kiss they sneaked. (oh,) I saw Daddy tickle Santa Claus underneath his suit of red and white. What a laugh it would have been if Mom had only seen Daddy kissing Santa Claus last night! *************************************************************** My least favorite Christmas song of all time has got to be "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer". It's a story about how society rejected a freak until, overnight, he became famous. Then, all of a sudden, he's Mister Popularity. Pshaw! This is not the kind of lesson we should be teaching our children! So, in my humble manner, I offer you a song with a better lesson ... "Rudolph Revisited" - by D M Goldstein, 1986 (to the tune of "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer") Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer had a very shiny nose. Let me tell you a secret; it's from a drug overdose! All of the other Reindeer used to laugh and call him names. That is what drove poor Rudolph to escape into Coccaine. Then one foggy Christmas Eve Santa came to say, "Rudolph, we know what you've done." The police came and took him away. Now all the Reindeer are straight; they've given up PCP, quaaludes, and marijuana, and flying high on LSD. (Optional tag, to the tune of NOEL ...) No L, No L, No L, No L. None of the Reindeer do LSD. *************************************************************** "Santa Claus" - by D M Goldstein 1985 (to the tune of "Rocket Man") I packed my bags last night for flight; Zero hour, one a.m.; And I'm gonna be high in my sleigh by then. I miss the Pole so much, I miss my wife; It's lonely out in space On such a famous flight. (Chorus:) And I think it's gonna be a long, long time before you get your gifts; you've yet to find I'm not the man you think I am at all, oh no, no, no; because I'm Santa Claus. Santa Claus, flying with my reindeer 'cross the sky. The Pole ain't the kind of place to raise your kids; In fact, it's cold as hell; But there's elves to baby-sit them if you did. And all these 'Go-bots' I don't understand; It's just my job one day a year. Santa Claus, I'm Santa Claus. (repeat Chorus and end.) *************************************************************** "Donde Esta Papa" - by D M Goldstein 1984 (to the tune of "Feliz Navidad") Police got my Dad, Police got my Dad, Police got my Dad and now he's rotting in County Jail. Police got my Dad, Police got my Dad, And they'll deport him if my mother can't make his bail. (Chorus:) I want to wish you a Merry Christmas, I want to wish you a Merry Christmas, I want to wish you a Merry Christmas from the bottom of my cell. (repeat.) (alternate first verse:) Donde esta Papa? Donde esta Papa? Donde esta Papa? Papa no esta aqui. (repeat.) *************************************************************** and from "Have a Jewish Christmas" (NOT by D M Goldstein) (to the tune of "Jingle Bells") The lights are being strung, The streets are full of cheer, The stockings have been hung, Christmas Time is here. Its joyous revelry and spirit capture you; "At Christmas Time it's hard to be a good religious Jew." ("Oy") (Chorus:) Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle night and day. It's "Yo-ho-ho" and mistletoe and Santa's on his way. Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, If Santa Claus is true, his joy is fun for everyone, but what's a Jew to do? He goes to synagogue, it doesn't matter which, He's Jewish and he's very proud, "I'd rather fight than switch." When Christmas Time is here, he wishes it would pass, "Last Sunday morning I got up and almost went to mass!" ("Oy") (repeat Chorus and end.) *************************************************************** Other titles under consideration: "Have Yourself a Merry Little Merger" "God Rest Ye, Merry Pentagon" "George Bush is Coming to Town" "The Bells of Dagoba" (for you Star Wars fans) and, "Knocking on Neighbors' Doors" (the Caroling Song) (to the tune of Knocking on Heaven's Door) *************************************************************** December 14th Dearest John: I went to the door today and the postman delivered a partridge in a pear tree. What a delightful gift. I couldn't have been more surprised. With dearest love and affection, Agnes -------------------------------------- December 15th Dearest John: Today the postman brought your very sweet gift. Just imagine, two turtle doves.... I'm just delighted at your very thoughtful gift. They are just adorable. All my love, Agnes ------------------ December 16th Dear John: Oh, aren't you the extravagant one! Now I must protest. I don't deserve such generosity. Three french hens. They are just darling but I must insist.... you're just too kind. Love Agnes --------- December 17th Today the postman delivered four calling birds. Now really! They are beautiful, but don't you think enough is enough? You're being too romantic. Affectionately, Agnes --------------------- December 18th Dearest John: What a surprise! Today the postman delivered five golden rings. One for each finger. You're just impossible, but I love it. Frankly, John, all those squawking birds were beginning to get on my nerves. All my love, Agnes ------------------ December 19th Dear John: When I opened the door there were actually six geese a-laying on my front 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! Cordially, Agnes ---------------- December 20th John: What's with you and those fucking birds???? Seven swans a-swimming. What kind of goddam joke is this? There's bird shit all over the house and they never stop the racket. I'm a nervous wreck and I can't sleep all night. IT'S NOT FUNNY.......So stop with those fucking birds. Sincerely, Agnes ---------------- December 21st OK 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 eight maids a-milking, but they had to bring their own goddam cows. There is shit all over the lawn and I can't move into my own house. Just lay off me. SMART ASS. Ag ---------------- December 22nd Hey Shithead: What are you? Some kind of sadist? Now there's nine pipers playing. And Christ - do they play. They never stopped chasing those maids since they got here yesterday morning. The cows are upset are stepping all over those screeching birds. No wonder they screeh. What am I going to do? The neighbors have started a petetion to evict me. You'll get yours. >From Ag ---------------- December 23rd You Rotten Prick: Now there's ten ladies dancing - I don't know why I call those sluts ladies. They've been balling those nine pipers all night long. Now the cows can't sleep and they've got diarrhea. My living room is a river of shit. The commisioner of buildings has subpoenaed me to give cause why the building shouldn't be condemned. I'm sicking the police on you. One who means it, Ag -------------------- December 24th Listen Fuckhead: What's with the eleven lords a-leaping on those maids and aforementioned "ladies"? Some of those broads will never walk again. Those pipers ran through the maids and have been commiting sodomy with the cows. All 234 of the birds are dead. They have been trampled to death in the orgy. I hope you're satisfied, you rotten swine. Your sworn enemy, Miss Agnes McCallister -------------------------------------- December 25th (From the law offices Taeker, Spredar, and Baegar) Dear Sir: This is to acknowledge your latest gift of tweleve fiddlers fiddling, which you have seen fit to inflict on our client, Miss Agnes McCallister. The destruction, of course, was total. All correspondence should come to our attention. If you should attempt to reach Miss McCallister at Happy Dale Sanitarium, the attendants have instructions to shoot you on sight. With this letter, please find attached a warrant for your arrest. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The night before Christmas...... 'Twas the night before Christmas, an all through the block, Not a creature was stirring, not even Ed Kotch. The stockings were hung, by the furnace with care. In hopes that by morning, they'd all still be there. Me an this skank, were just getting ready for bed. I wore pajamas, she had a paper bag for her head. When up on the roof, I heard a big crash, I thought it was a burglar, I was gonna kick ass! I went out on the fire escape, looked up in the sky, An what did I see, but this freakin fat guy! With a red suit and boots, that came up to his knees, In the moonlight he looked, just like Dom DeLouise. He had a big sled, being pulled by reindeer. He called one of them Dancer, so I assumed he was queer. As he crept off the roof, it became clear to me, That this guy was lookin, to steal my TV! Over his shoulder, he had a big sack. He came down the stairs, while I planned my attack. I waited a second, till the time it seemed ripe. Bopped him on the head, * botta bing * with a pipe! He fell to the floor, with a groan and a thud. I was kinda surprised, that I didn't see blood. Instead he rolled over, looked me in the eye. When I saw who I'd hit, I near started to cry. I said "hey 'yo Santa, I'm sorry all right?" "Not for nuttin" he said, "but this just ain't my night!" "I got lost in the Bronx, ran over some Nuns." "Had a near miss by Kennedy, Rudolf's got the runs..." "I'm out all freakin night, I'm bustin my hump." "But I can't finish now, not with this lump!" "So do me a favor, and be a real pal." "Take over for me...be Santa Sal." I say 'Yo! I'm from Brooklyn, I ain't right for the part. But he says that Santa Claus, comes from the heart. He made me a offer, I could'nt refuse. Stop at every house....except for the Jews! I got into the suit, jumped onto the sleigh, Wondering just why it was, reindeer smelled that way. Took off on my mission, didn't want to be late. While old Nick spent the night, hosin' my date. That night I was Santa, bringing kids joy and bliss. And if you don't believe that...hey, jingle dis! Since then I been with him, each year in the cold. Riding shotgun with Santa, 'cause he's fat, and he's old. I'm his number one helper, I been deputized. So on this Christmas Eve, don't you be surprised. If you hear a voice say, real loud and abrupt. "Merry Christmas to all, thanks alot...shutup!" ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ '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 unauthorized 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 clamored or made lots of noise. Nothing for just girls. Or just for the 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 a 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 one 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, disheveled, 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." Notice: This poem is copyright 1992 by Harvey Ehrlich. It is free to distribute, without changes, as long as this notice remains intact. All follow-ups, requests, comments, questions, distribution rights, etc should be made to mduhan@husc.harvard.edu. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Politically Correct Seasons Herald 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 alternate-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, Fa la la la la, la la la la ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ From: jeq@lachman.com (Jonathan E. Quist) Newsgroups: rec.motorcycles Subject: They made me do it... Date: Mon, 20 Dec 1993 19:19:10 GMT You know the Internet is dominated by engineers when: About this time every year, a few dozen versions of Dr. Moore's "A Visit from Saint Nicholas" ("Twas the night before...") spring up, and the words don't match the meter of the poem in any of the variations. [Note added later... this started out to be a few quick lines, and just sort of got way out of hand...] A Visit from alt.saint.nicholas.ho.ho.ho -- 'Twas the week before Christmas, and all through the net, not a system would boot (save a Commodore PET). The servers were hung, not a cycle to spare (though standalone clients did not really care). The routers were useless; the backbone was dead, yet Barney the dinosaur shot in the head was the only clear vision I had on my mind (for you see, when I'm home and leave Usenet behind I've got small kids to raise and that big purple geek is the object of love of the small and the meek). But back to the subject, the topic at hand, the crux of the matter, and just how things stand. You see, I'm just rambling and waffling about, (but I needn't have told you, you'll figure it out for you're quite a sharp lot and you'll all shout in chorus "This blighter's discovered the Online Thesaurus!" Ignore for the moment my penchant for verse; if you think it's bad now, it only gets worse!). Now where was I? Oh, yes, on the death of the net. The prognosis was grim, nearly hopeless, and yet the end users, the students, and yes, engineers didn't seem to much care; neither cursing nor tears filled the air of the offices, schools, nor spare rooms. So if this was a terrorist plot to cast gloom on the joy of the season, the bliss of the feast, let me tell you, it didn't work, not in the least. For the students were home with their fam'lies this week, and the other net users of whom I will speak found the Internet Outage a positive boon, which would also make quite a droll "Dilbert" cartoon. So instead of frustration, they did as in Rome: when the Senate recesses, it's time to go home. (Okay, so that's stretching a bit for a rhyme, but I'm writing this ditty in near-record time. And again, I digress, now, where were we, pray tell? Oh, yes.) All the netters did let out a yell and they rushed to their cars and they stepped on the gas and they only slowed down when they saw "Do Not Pass". They rushed to the banks and collected their moneys, then rushed to the malls, buying gifts, for their honeys. Then homeward they raced, and they couldn't believe that their shopping was finished, before Christmas Eve. By now, some have noticed, I've left out a bunch of net users, whose social skills went out to lunch: the engineers stayed, I am sorry to say, and figured out how to read news, anyway. They sat through the night thinking nothing amiss with the notion of reading through all comp dot sys. Then dutif'lly wading through technical flames, they proceeded onward, to rec dot games. And so they progressed through the days and the nights, no colleagues to notice their horrible plights, 'til at last, Christmas Eve, sitting still as a mouse, they finished up misc dot consumers dot house. As they crawled from their places of business there rose such a cry of great anguish and horrible woes. "Why, the shopping day's over," they brilliantly cried, "and we haven't bought presents for this Christmastide." (With the rhymes that I've made in these last couple stanzas, I'd not take offense if you called in the Panzers.) So the engineers slunk to their homes full of dread, in the fear that St. Nicholas soon would be dead. They looked 'round their houses and got some strange notions, and stayed up one more night and with expert motions, they made toys and baubles from old odds and ends to give to their children and give to their friends. Bleary eyed in the morning they barely could see as their children and spouses surrounded the tree. There were no cries of "Aw, Dad!", or "Mom, this is nerdy," just "Honey, these CPU earrings are purty!" The kids laughed with glee, as again and again around the tree circled their "quartz movement" train. The engineers learned a great lesson, that day: Technology's great, but it gets in the way of the real things that matter, of family, of friend, and the sweet pitter-pat of small feet at day's end. So I leave you all now with this Holiday wish: that your pride and joy isn't a satellite dish, but the people around you, the large, and the small (and I'll make a concession for college football). May you find through the season and all through the year, that your days are all shared with those folks you hold dear. And I'll close, ere your monitor gets phosphor burn, Merry Christmas to All, and to all, Press Copyright (c) 1993 by Jonathan E. Quist Not-for-profit duplication permitted. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Walkin' round in women's underwear (to be sung to "Walkin' in a winter wonderland") Lacy things -- the wife is missin', Didn't ask -- her permission, I'm wearin' her clothes, Her silk pantyhose, Walkin' 'round in women's underwear. In the store -- there's a teddy, Little straps -- like spaghetti, It holds me so tight, Like handcuffs at night, Walkin' 'round in women's underwear. In the office there's a guy named Melvin, He pretends that I am Murphy Brown. He'll say, "Are you ready?" I'll say,"Whoa, Man!" "Let's wait until our wives are out of town!" Later on, if you wanna, We can dress -- like Madonna, Put on some eyeshade, And join the parade, Walkin' 'round in women's underwear! Lacy things... missin', Didn't ask... permission, Wearin' her clothes, Her silk pantyhose, Walkin' 'round in women's underwear, Walkin' 'round in women's underwear, Walkin' 'round in women's underwear! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------