‘Twas the Night Before Christmas Italian Style

Twas the night before Christmas,
Da whole house was mella,
Not a creature was stirrin’,
Cuz I had a gun unda da pilla.

When up on da roof
I heard somethin’ pound,
I sprung to da window,
To scream, “YO! Keep it down!”

When what to my
Wanderin’ eyes should appear,
But da Don of all elfs,
And eight friggin’ reindeer!

Wit’ slicked back black hair,
And a silk red suit,
don Christopher wuz here,
And he brought da loot!

Wit’ a slap to dare snouts,
And a yank on dare manes,
He cursed and he shouted,
And he called dem by name.

“Yo Tony, Yo Frankie,
Yo Vinny, Yo Vito,
Ay Joey, Ay Paulie,
Ay Pepe, Ay Guido!”

As I drew out my gun
And hid by da bed,
He flew troo da winda
And slapped me ‘side da head.

“What da hell you doin’
Pullin’ a gun on da Don?
Now all you’re gettin’ is coal,
You friggin’ moron!”

Den pointin’ a fat finga
Right unda my nose,
He twisted his pinky ring,
And up da chimney he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh,
Obscenities screamin’,
Away dey all flew,
Before he troo dem a beatin’.

Den I heard him yell out,
What I did least expect,
“Merry Friggin’ Christmas to all,
And yous better show some respect!”

Mom’s Christmas Letter

Dear Darling Son and That Person You Married:

Merry Christmas to you and please don’t worry. I’m just fine considering that I can’t breathe or eat. The important thing is that you have a nice holiday, thousands of miles away from your ailing mother. I’ve sent along my last ten dollars in this card, which I hope you’ll spend on my grandchildren. God knows their mother never buys them anything nice. They look so thin in their pictures, poor babies.

Thank you so much for the Christmas flowers, dear boy. I put them in the freezer so they’ll stay fresh for my grave. Which reminds me — we buried Grandma last week. I know she died years ago, but I got to yearning for a good funeral so Aunt Viola and I dug her up and had the services all over again. I would have invited you but I know that woman you live with would have never let you come. I bet she’s never even watched that videotape of my hemorrhoid surgery, has she?

Well son, it’s time for me to crawl off to bed now. I lost my cane beating off muggers last week, but don’t you worry about me. I’m also getting used to the cold since they turned my heat off and am grateful because the frost on my bed numbs the constant pain. Now don’t you even think about sending any more money because I know you need it for those expensive family vacations you take every year. Give my love to my darling grandbabies and my regards to whatever-her-name-is — the one with the black roots who stole you screaming from my bosom.

Merry Christmas.

Love, Mom

Christmas Songs For The Mentally Disturbed

  • Schizophrenia
    Do you Hear What I Hear?
  • Multiple Personality Disorder
    We Three Queens Disoriented Are
  • Dementia
    I Think I’ll Be Home for Christmas
  • Narcissistic
    Hark the Herald Angels Sing About Me
  • Manic
    Deck the Halls and Walls and House and Lawn and Streets and Stores and Office
    and Town and Cars and Busses and Trucks and Trees and Fire Hydrants and…..
  • Paranoid
    Santa Claus is Coming to Get Me.
  • Personality Disorder
    You Better Watch Out,
    I’m Gonna Cry,
    I’m Gonna Pout,
    Maybe I’ll tell you Why.
  • Depression
    Silent Anhedonia, Holy Anhedonia
    All is Flat, All is Lonely.
  • Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder
    Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock,
    Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock,
    Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock,

  • Passive-Aggressive Personality
    On the First Day of Christmas My True Love Gave to Me
    (and then took it all away).
  • Borderline Personality Disorder
    Thoughts of Roasting on an Open Fire.

Martha Stewart’s Christmas Letter to Erma Bombeck

Hi Erma,

This perfectly delightful note is being sent on paper I made myself to tell you what I have been up to. Since it snowed last night, I got up early and made a sled with old barn wood and a glue gun. I hand painted it in gold leaf, got out my loom, and made a blanket in peaches and mauves. Then to make the sled complete, I made a white horse to pull it, from DNA that I had just sitting around in my craft room.

By then, it was time to start making the place mats and napkins for my 20 breakfast guests. I’m serving the old standard Stewart twelve-course breakfast, but I’ll let you in on a little secret: I didn’t have time to make the tables and chairs this morning, so I used the ones I had on hand.

Before I moved the table into the dining room, I decided to add just a touch of the holidays. So I repainted the room in pinks and stenciled gold stars on the ceiling. Then, while the homemade bread was rising, I took antique candle molds and made the dishes (exactly the same shade of pink) to use for breakfast. These were made from Hungarian clay, which you can get at almost any Hungarian craft store.

Well, I must run. I need to finish the buttonholes on the dress I’m wearing for breakfast. I’ll get out the sled and drive this note to the post office as soon as the glue dries on the envelope I’ll be making.

Hope my breakfast guests don’t stay too long, I have 40,000 cranberries to string with bay leaves before my speaking engagement at noon. It’s a good thing.

Martha Stewart

P.S. When I made the ribbon for this typewriter, I used 1/8-inch gold gauze. I soaked the gauze in a mixture of white grapes and blackberries which I grew, picked, and crushed last week just for fun.

Response from Erma Bombeck:

Dear Martha,

I’m writing this on the back of an old shopping list, pay no attention to the coffee and jelly stains. I’m 20 minutes late getting my daughter up for school, packing a lunch with one hand, on the phone with the dog pound, seems old Ruff needs bailing out again. Burnt my arm on the curling iron when I was trying to make those cute curly fries, how DO they do that? Still can’t find the scissors to cut out some snowflakes, tried using an old disposable razor … trashed the tablecloth. Tried that cranberry thing, frozen cranberries mushed up after I defrosted them in the microwave. Oh, and don’t use Fruity Pebbles as a substitute in that Rice Krispie snowball recipe, unless you happen to like a disgusting shade that resembles puke! The smoke alarm is going off, talk to ya later.



As a joke, my brother used to hang a pair of panty hose over his fireplace before Christmas. He said all he wanted was for Santa to fill them.

What they say about Santa checking the list twice must be true because every Christmas morning, although Jay’s kids’ stockings were overflowed, his poor panty hose hung sadly empty and grew increasingly threadbare.

One year I decided to make his dream come true. I put on sunglasses and a fake beard and went in search of an inflatable love doll.

Of course, they don’t sell those things at Wal-Mart. I had to go to an adult bookstore downtown. If you’ve never been in an X-rated store, don’t go. You’ll only confuse yourself.

I was there almost three hours saying things like, “What does this do?” “You’re kidding me!” “Who owns that?” “Do you have their phone number?”

Finally, I made it to the inflatable doll section.

I wanted to buy a standard, uncomplicated doll suitable for a night of romance that could also substitute as a passenger in my car so I could use the car pool lane during rush hour.

I’m not sure what a complicated doll is. Perhaps one that is subject to wild mood shifts and using a French accent for no reason at all. (That also describes a few ex-boyfriends.)

Finding what I wanted was difficult. Love dolls come in many different models.

The top of the line, according to the side of the box, could do things I’d only seen in a book on animal husbandry. I figured the “vibro-motion” was a feature Jay could live without, so I settled for Lovable Louise. She was at the bottom of the price scale. To call Louise a “doll” took a huge leap of imagination.

On Christmas Eve, with the help of an old bicycle pump, Louise came to life. My sister-in-law was in on the plan and cleverly left the front door key hidden under the mat.

In the wee morning hours, long after Santa had come and gone, I snuck into the house and filled the dangling panty hose with Louise’s pliant legs and bottom. I also ate some cookies and drank what remained of a glass of milk on a nearby tray.

Then I let myself out, went home, and giggled for a couple of hours.

The next morning my brother called to say that Santa had been to his house and left a present that had made him VERY happy but had left the dog confused. He would bark, start to walk away, then come back and bark some more. I suggested he purchase an inflatable Lassie to set Rover straight.

We also agreed that Louise should remain in her panty hose so the rest of the family could admire her when they came over for the traditional Christmas dinner.

It seemed like a great idea, except that we forgot that Grandma and Grandpa would be there. My grandmother noticed Louise the moment she walked in the door.

“What the hell is that?” she asked. My brother quickly explained. “It’s a doll.”

“Who would play with something like that?” Granny snapped. I had several candidates in mind, but kept my mouth shut. “Where are her clothes?” Granny continued. I hadn’t seen any in the box, but I kept this information to myself.

“Boy, that turkey sure smells nice, Gran,” Jay said, trying to steer her into the dining room.

But Granny was relentless. “Why doesn’t she have any teeth?” Again, I could have answered, but why would I? It was Christmas and no one wanted to ride in the back of the ambulance saying, “Hang on Granny, Hang on!”

The dinner went well.

We made the usual small talk about who had died, who was dying, and who should be killed, when suddenly Louise made a noise that sounded a lot like my father in the bathroom in the morning. Then she lurched from the panty hose, flew around the room twice, and fell in a heap in front of the sofa.

The cat screamed, I passed cranberry sauce through my nose, and Grandpa ran across the room, fell to his knees, and began administering mouth to mouth resuscitation.

My brother wet his pants and Granny threw down her napkin, stomped out of the room, and sat in the car.

It was indeed a Christmas to treasure and remember.

A Kitten’s Days of Christmas

  • On the first day of Christmas, my kitten ruined for me…
    A batch of my special hand-print cookies. I had turned my back to grab the cookie sheet sitting on the stove. In that micro-second, Sara climbed onto the table, poked her paw into the delightfully kneady mixture and, suddenly off-balance, fell into the cookie dough.

    Net loss? Six cups of flour, four cups of sugar, three sticks of butter. Of course, it would have been cheaper to remove the feline ingredient, pick out the hairs, and just rename the recipe Paw Print Cookies.

  • On the second day of Christmas, my kitten accompanied me…
    On a trip to the vet clinic. Who knew that skinny curling ribbon has feline taste appeal? I didn’t.

    Damages: $28 for the office visit, $36 for anesthesia so the veterinarian could take $55 X-rays in case Sara had taste-tested any other Christmas decorations, and a heck of a lot of embarrassment when the vet removed the 3″ curly tail in slightly less than two seconds by tugging at it with a pair of tweezers.

  • On the third day of Christmas, my kitten wrecked for me…
    13 ornaments on my Christmas tree. My mistake was forgetting to chain the decorations to the branches. My other error was leaving the room to go to the bathroom while Sara feigned sleeping under the tree. How was I to know she was actually measuring its climbing potential?

    Value of broken bulbs? $7.50 plus tax.

  • On the fourth day of Christmas, my kitten broke for me…
    A statue in my Lenox Nativity. Would you believe two Wise men plus a head?
    Lenox nativity figurines: $55.99
  • On the fifth day of Christmas, my kitten scratched for me…
    The kid across the street who collects for charity. It was an accident. She merely wanted to reach out and touch someone. Unfortunately, she used an unsheathed claw to do so. I settled out-of-court for the cost of a jacket to replace the boy’s blood stained one and a hefty donation to the charity of their choice. Although the amount must remain secret according to our settlement, let me put it this way. You haven’t seen many soldiers for the Salvation Army this year, have you? Think: Major Windfall!
  • On the sixth day of Christmas, my kitten opened for me…
    The presents beneath my Christmas tree. It was only two, really. While doing some early shopping at a discount store, I purchased a catnip mouse for Sara’s stocking. Apparently, anything in the same bag as catnip takes on its potent aroma for a very long time.

    Replacement costs: $3.99 for another roll of Christmas wrapping paper, $4.50 for two empty boxes, $1 each for the kind of bows Sara can’t unravel.

  • On the seventh day of Christmas, my kitten lost for me…
    The earrings I bought for my sister Mary. Actually, it was one earring but since Mary doesn’t have a hole in her nose or navel, a pair of matching earrings does make a more appealing gift.

    Sale price: $29.95 plus tax.

  • On the eighth day of Christmas, my kitten helped me…
    Replace my E and G guitar strings. Would you believe a kitten could fit into the itty-bitty hole in the middle of my Yamaha guitar? Neither could I, but Sara thought so. And she succeeded once she got those rascally strings out of the way. Unfortunately, her little rear end couldn’t get out the way it went in. After paying through the whiskers for her previous escapades, I would have been willing to leave her in the guitar for the duration of the holiday season, except that she chose to get stuck two hours before I was due at the nursing home for our annual Christmas carol sing-a-long.

    Set of steel guitar strings: $12.95;
    Jar of petroleum jelly: 79 cents.

  • On the ninth day of Christmas, my kitten destroyed for me…
    My Christmas card list when she walked across my computer’s delete key.

    Cost for call to Computer Country’s 900/help line: $17.50. And I still don’t know what happened to the listings of B through H.

  • On the tenth day of Christmas, my kitten hid from me…..
    The remote control from my 13-inch TV. This wouldn’t be such a disaster if she hadn’t previously stolen the power knob. I missed a week’s worth of Christmas specials, including my all-time favorite, “It’s a Wonderful Life.”

    Rental of “It’s a Wonderful Life”: $2;
    Purchase of book, “Good Owners, Great Cats”: $24.95. Unfortunately, it never mentions the psychological profile of kittens with kleptomania.

  • On the eleventh day of Christmas, my kitten ate for me…..
    The drumsticks off my 19-pound turkey. OK, OK, So this one time it was my fault. I knew I never should have uttered those now infamous words: “Your first turkey, Sara. Want to try just a little piece?”

    Cost: Christmas Dinner.

  • On the 12th day of Christmas……..
    Sara rested. And so, thank goodness, did my VISA card.

If Wal-Mart Ran Christmas

  • All gifts would be made of the cheapest possible materials available in China or maybe Malaysia by vast armies of workers making a dollar a day.
  • Stockings are filled with cheap toys that break as soon as the kids take them out and candy in odd colors flavored red, green, and white – whatever those are.
  • Clothes are produced in just one design and only 4 color choices.
  • Sizes and cut of the clothes are strange – certainly not what the buying public is used to – and don’t fit any normal humans.
  • Defects are not weeded out before shipment to the stores, so you never know if you have zippers with pulls, buttons that have matching buttonholes, or linings that your arms can fit through.
  • The stores only receive one shipment of these seasonal items and they arrive 6 months ahead of the holiday.
  • The number of ugly and useless items is far greater than any possible good deals, but the good deals are the only ones advertised.
  • You spend twelve hours standing in line for one of the advertised computers only to have some stocker toss them over your head and into the crowd at the designated sale hour. The only customers to get these items are the ones who just walked into the area.
  • When you try to return the gifts that don’t fit more than a day after Christmas and you don’t have your receipt, the price has been cut by 75%.
  • You can’t exchange it for something that does fit or that you will use because the store is already sold out and will not be getting any more.

If Major Corporations Ran Christmas

  • If IBM ran Christmas…
    They would want one big Santa, dressed in blue, where kids queue up for their present-processing. Receiving presents would take about 24-36 hours of mainframe processing time.
  • If Microsoft ran Christmas…
    Each time you bought an ornament, you would have to buy a tree as well. You wouldn’t have to take the tree, but you still have to pay for it anyway. Ornament/95 would weigh 1500 pounds (requiring a reinforced steel countertop tree), draw enough electricity to power a small city, take up 95% of the space in your living room, would claim to be the first ornament that uses the colors red/green together. It would interrogate your other decorations to find out who made them. Most everyone would hate Microsoft ornaments, but nonetheless would buy them since most of the other tree types wouldn’t work with their hooks.
  • If Apple ran Christmas…
    It would do everything the Microsoft ornaments do, but years earlier, and with a smaller mouse (not stirring of course).
  • If Silicon Graphics ran Christmas…
    Ornaments would be priced slightly higher, but would hang on the tree remarkably quickly. Also the colors of the ornaments would be prettier than most all the others. Options would be available for ‘equalization’ of color combinations on the tree.
  • If Dell ran Christmas…
    Wait a minute? Isn’t IBM running this Christmas..??
  • If Fisher Price ran Christmas…
    “Baby’s First Ornament” would have a hand-crank that you turn to hang the thing on the tree.
  • If The Rand Corporation ran Christmas…
    The ornaments would be large perfectly smooth and seamless black cubes. Christmas morning there would be presents for everyone, but no one would know what they were. Their service department would have an unlisted phone number, and be located at the North Pole. Blueprints for ornaments would be highly classified government documents. X-Files would have an episode about them.
  • If the NSA ran Christmas…
    Your ornaments would have a secret trap door that only the NSA could access in case they needed to monitor your tree for reasons of national security.
  • If DEC ran Christmas…
    We used to have Christmas back in the ’70s, didn’t we?
  • If Hewlett-Packard ran Christmas…
    They would market the Reverse Polish Ornament, which is put in your attic on the weekend after Thanksgiving, and placed out for viewing the day after the January Bowl Games.
  • If Sony ran Christmas…
    Their Personal Xmas-ing Device, which would be barely larger than an ornament and flat, would allow you to celebrate the season with a device attached conveniently to your belt.
  • If the Franklin Mint ran Christmas…
    Every month, you would receive another lovely hand-crafted item from an authentic Civil War pewter ornament collection. Each ornament would weight about 7 pounds, and require you to pay shipping and handling charges.
  • If Cray ran Christmas…
    The holiday season would cost $16 million but would be celebrated faster than any other holiday during the year.
  • If Thinking Machines ran Christmas…
    You would be able to hang over 64,000 ornaments on your tree (all identical) at the same time.
  • If Timex ran Christmas…
    The holiday would be cheap, small, quartz-crystal driven, and would let you take a licking and keep on shopping.
  • If Radio Shack ran Christmas…
    The staff would sell you ornaments, but not know anything about them or what they were for. Or you could buy parts to build your own tree.
  • If K-Tel ran Christmas…
    Ornaments would not be sold in stores, but when you purchased some, they would be accompanied by a free set of Ginsu knives.
  • If University of Waterloo ran Christmas…
    They would immediately change the name to WatMas.

‘Twas the Grumpy Night Before Christmas

‘Twas 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
The reindeer all fight
Rudolph got drunk and goosed all the maids
Donna 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 Claus 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!!

Fractured Christmas Carols

No one can fracture a Christmas carol better than a kid. Sing along with these new takes on old favorites:

  • Deck the Halls with Buddy Holly
  • We Three Kings of Porridge and Tar
  • On the First Day of Christmas my Tulip Gave to Me
  • Later on We’ll Perspire, as we Dream by the Fire.
  • He’s Makin’ a List, Chicken and Rice.
  • Noel. Noel, Barney’s the King of Israel.
  • With the Jelly Toast Proclaim
  • Olive, the Other Reindeer.
  • Frosty the Snowman is a Ferret Elf, I Say
  • Sleep in Heavenly Peas
  • In the Meadow We Can Build a Snowman, Then Pretend that he is Sparse and Brown
  • You’ll go Down in Listerine
  • Oh, What Fun it is to Ride with One Horse, Soap and Hay
  • Come, Froggy Faithful
  • You’ll tell Carol, “Be a Skunk, I Require”
  • Good Tidings We Bring to You and your Kid