Saturday XMAS jOKES / 1/2

Q: Why is Christmas just like a day at the office?

A: You do all the work, but the fat guy with the suit gets all the credit!



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December 25 is National Jews Go to the Movies Day!




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Christmas always sucked when I was a kid because I believed in Santa Clause. Unfortunately, so did my parents, so I never got anything!



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A woman is looking for a Christmas present for her husband. She walks by a pet shop and sees a beautiful parrot. A tag on the cage says $50. “Why so little?” she asks. The store manager says, “This bird used to live in a house of prostitution. It has kind of a vulgar mouth.” The woman decides to buy the parrot anyway. She brings the parrot home and puts his cage near the Christmas tree. First thing the bird says is, “New house, new madam.” She's a little shocked but figures that’s not so bad. When her two daughters get home from school, the bird sees them and says, “New house, new madam, new girls.” The woman is surprised, but she figures the parrot will straighten out once it figures out who everybody is. A little while later, the woman’s husband, Frank, comes home from work. As he walks in the door, the bird says: “Hi Frank.”A woman is looking for a Christmas present for her husband. She walks by a pet shop and sees a beautiful parrot. A tag on the cage says $50. “Why so little?” she asks. The store manager says, “This bird used to live in a house of prostitution. It has kind of a vulgar mouth.” The woman decides to buy the parrot anyway. She brings the parrot home and puts his cage near the Christmas tree. First thing the bird says is, “New house, new madam.” She's a little shocked but figures that’s not so bad. When her two daughters get home from school, the bird sees them and says, “New house, new madam, new girls.” The woman is surprised, but she figures the parrot will straighten out once it figures out who everybody is. A little while later, the woman’s husband, Frank, comes home from work. As he walks in the door, the bird says: “Hi Frank.”

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A drunk staggers into a Catholic Church during the Christmas holidays, enters a confessional booth, sits down, but says nothing. The Priest coughs a few times to get his attention, but the drunk continues to sit there. Finally, the Priest knocks three times on the wall. The drunk mum****




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It's Christmas time and Paddy and Shaun decided to go look for a Christmas Tree. They gathered their axe, a sled, and a broom to brush the trees off so they can get a good look at them. When they finally reach a fine stand of trees, Shaun brushes off the first tree, and stands back with Paddy to look at it. "Well, Paddy, What do you think?"  "Sorry, Shaun, this tree won't do. Let's try another one."  They come upon another nice tree, Shaun brushes it off, and they both look at it.  "How about this one, Paddy?"  "Not quite, Shaun. Let's keep looking." This goes on until nightfall.  Both Paddy and Shaun are cold, tired, and hungry. "Well, Paddy, what do we do now?"  "Shaun, I think we should take home the next tree we find, whether it has lights on it or not...




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ear Santa,
How are you doing? I hope you've had a successful year and have come up with a lot of interesting toys. It's really neat how you're able to do that year after year. I guess that's how you stay number one in the Christmas presents business. Actually, I admire the way you run Christmas. You really have a handle on it. You find out what people want (with letters like this and having kids tell you in person), and then you make the presents and control how they are delivered. It's an impressive operation. I also like how you've got it to where when somebody says "Christmas presents,"  people automatically think Santa Claus. What a marketing advantage. Best of all, even though you're a huge success, people still don't know much about your private life. It's just rumors. That's so neat. I think being at the North Pole helps. That was a good move. For example, when you're designing toys, only your elves know what you're doing, and you're way up there where nobody can spy on you and steal your ideas. And even if they do, you can always just let it out that you're making the same stuff to bring to people for free, so why would they buy the other guy's stuff? Also, other people who make Christmas presents can't deliver them like you can. Yours is the only sleigh on the distribution highway. You must get some great discounts from them, because if they don't play ball you can just refuse to give out their presents. Very Sharp. What I don't get is why you give away stuff. That's the dumbest idea I've ever heard. I admit, its why you're number one- who could compete with a deal like that? But it must make it hard to stay in business, especially when you have to visit every kid in the world. You have to keep growing or fail. Here's an idea on how you can help finance your operation: Give everybody at least one present at Christmas, then you could make batteries and sell them the rest of the year. It would create a demand: You give people something and then sell them what they need to make it work. Another thing, about you coming down the chimney. That's so slow and inefficient. And what about all the people who don't have chimneys? Santa. I have one word for you--windows. Everybody has windows. That's about all I have to say. You're probably wondering if I was good or bad this year, but I don't really like to talk about my personal life, if that's O.K. (Just out of curiosity: When you were a boy, did any of the other kids call you a nerd?) Anyway, I don't really have anything to ask for. Mostly I think up something to play with and then build it myself. I guess I'm sort of like you--I make my own toys.
Best of luck,
Billy Gates

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On the 1st day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Windows 95 for my PC

On the 2nd day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: 2 GPFs, and Windows 95 for my PC

On the 3rd day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: 3 ports not responding, 2 GPFs, and Windows 95 for my PC

On the 4th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: 4 sectors bad, 3 ports not responding, 2 GPFs, and Windows 95 for my PC

On the 5th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: 5 eighty six, 4 sectors bad, 3 ports not responding, 2 GPFs, and Windows 95 for my PC

On the 6th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: 6 ints conflictin', 5 eighty six, 4 sectors bad, 3 ports not responding, 2 GPFs, and Windows 95 for my PC

On the 7th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: 7 files missin', 6 ints conflictin', 5 eighty six, 4 sectors bad, 3 ports not responding, 2 GPFs, and Windows 95 for my PC

On the 8th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: 8 Megs overflowin', 7 files missin', 6 ints conflictin', 5 eighty six, 4 sectors bad, 3 ports not responding, 2 GPFs, and Windows 95 for my PC

On the 9th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: 9 apps a crashin', 8 Megs overflowin', 7 files missin', 6 ints conflictin', 5 eighty six, 4 sectors bad, 3 ports not responding, 2 GPFs, and Windows 95 for my PC

On the 10th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: 10 modes not supported, 9 apps a crashin', 8 Megs overflowin', 7 files missin', 6 ints conflictin', 5 eighty six, 4 sectors bad, 3 ports not responding, 2 GPFs, and Windows 95 for my PC

On the 11th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: 11 instructions faulty, 10 modes not supported, 9 apps a crashin', 8 Megs overflowin', 7 files missin', 6 ints conflictin', 5 eighty six, 4 sectors bad, 3 ports not responding, 2 GPFs, and Windows 95 for my PC

On the 12th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: 12 sound cards silent, 11 instructions faulty, 10 modes not supported, 9 apps a crashin', 8 Megs overflowin', 7 files missin', 6 ints conflictin', 5 eighty six, 4 sectors bad, 3 ports not responding, 2 GPFs, and Windows 95 for my PC!




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A new contract for Santa has finally been negotiated. Please read the following carefully. I regret to inform you that, effective immediately, I will no longer be able to serve Southern United States on Christmas Eve. Due to the overwhelming current population of the earth, my contract was renegotiated by North American Fairies and Elves Local 209. I now serve only certain areas of Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Wisconsin and Michigan. As part of the new and better contract I also get longer breaks for milk and cookies. However, I'm certain that your children will be in good hands with your local replacement who happens to be my third cousin, Bubba Claus. His side of the family is from the South Pole. He shares my goal of delivering toys to all the good boys and girls; however, there are a few differences between us...

1. There is no danger of a Grinch stealing your presents from Bubba Claus. He has a gun rack on his sleigh and bumper sticker that reads: "These toys insured by Smith and Wesson."

2. Instead of milk and cookies, Bubba Claus prefers that children leave an RC cola and pork rinds [or a moon pie] on the fireplace. And Bubba doesn't smoke a pipe. He dips a little snuff though, so please have an empty spit can handy.

3. Bubba Claus' sleigh is pulled by floppy-eared, flyin' coon dogs instead of reindeer. I made the mistake of loaning him a couple of my reindeer one time, and Blitzen's head now overlooks Bubba's fireplace.

4. You won't hear "On Comet, on Cupid, on Donner and Blitzen ..." when Bubba Claus arrives. Instead, you'll hear, "On Earnhardt, on Wallace, on Martin and Labonte On Rudd, on Jarrett, on Elliott and Petty."

5. "Ho, ho, ho!" has been replaced by "Yee Haw!" And you also are likely to hear Bubba's elves respond, "I her'd dat!"

6. As required by Southern highway laws, Bubba Claus' sleigh does have a Yosemite Sam safety triangle on the back with the words "Back Off!" The last I heard it also had other decorations on the sleigh back as well. One is Ford or Chevy logo with lights that race through the letters and the other is a caricature of me (Santa Claus) going wee on the Tooth Fairy.

7. The usual Christmas movie classics such as "Miracle on 34th Street" and "It's a Wonderful Life" will not be shown in your negotiated viewing area. Instead, you'll see "Boss Hogg Saves Christmas" and "Smokey and the Bandit IV" featuring Burt Reynolds as Bubba Claus and dozens of state patrol cars crashing into each other.

8. Bubba Claus doesn't wear a belt. If I were you, I'd make sure you, the wife, and the kids turn the other way when he bends over to put presents under the tree.

9. And finally, lovely Christmas songs have been sung about me like "Rudolph The Red-nosed Reindeer" and Bing Crosby's "Santa Claus is Coming to Town." This year songs about Bubba Claus will be played on all the AM radio stations in the South. Those song titles will be: Mark Chesnutt's "Bubba Claus Shot the Jukebox," Cledus T. Judd's "All I Want for Christmas Is My Woman and a Six Pack," and Hank Williams Jr.'s "If You Don't Like Bubba Claus, You Can Shove It."



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Effective immediately, the following economizing measures are being implemented in the "Twelve Days of Christmas" subsidiary:

[list=ltr]
[*] The partridge will be retained, but the pear tree, which never produced the cash crop forecasted, will be replaced by a plastic hanging plant, providing considerable savings in maintenance.
[*]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 will be 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, as well as a mix of T-Bills 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 was an example of the general 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, thereby enhancing their outplacement.
[*]As you know, the eight maids-a-milking concept has been under heavy scrutiny by the EEOC. 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 congressmen. While leaping ability may be somewhat sacrificed, the savings are significant as we expect an oversupply of unemployed congressmen 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 to the bottom line Overall we can expect a substantial reduction in assorted people, fowl, animals and related 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 attorney's association seeking expansion to include the legal profession ("thirteen lawyers-a-suing"), a decision is pending. Deeper cuts may be necessary in the future to remain competitive. Should that happen, the Board will request management to scrutinize the Snow White Division to see if seven dwarfs is the right number.
[/list]



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Top 10 signs you bought a bad Christmas tree:

10. Two feet tall, forty feet wide
9. Salesman's opening line: "You're not a cop, are you?"
8. It looks suspiciously like a broom handle with a lot of coat hangers stuck into it
7. While you sleep, it gets liquored up and takes the family caravan for a joy ride
6. Each branch has "Duraflame" printed on it
5. Keeps heckling while you try to do a lame top ten list
4. It's very small and says "Air Freshener" on it
3. Rabbis have better Christmas trees than yours
2. Some guy named Mujibur puts a cheap Statue of Liberty on top of it
1. Constantly bragging about its "trunk size

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If you threw a party, the worst thing you could have done was throw the kind of party where your guests, the next day, call you up to say they had a nice time. Now you'll be expected to throw another great party next year.

What you should have done was throw the kind of party where your guests wake up several days from now and call their lawyers to find out if they've been indicted for anything. You want your guests to be so anxious to avoid a recurrence of your party that they immediately start planning parties of their own, a year in advance, just to prevent you from having another one.

So next time, make sure your party reaches the correct Festivity Level:

Festivity Level One: Your guests are chatting amiably with each other, admiring your Christmas tree ornaments, singing carols around the upright piano, sipping at their drinks and nibbling at hors d'oeuvres.

Festivity Level Two: Your guests are talking loudly--sometimes to each other and sometimes to nobody at all, rearranging your Christmas tree ornaments, singing "I Gotta Be Me" around the upright piano, gulping their drinks and wolfing down hors d'oeuvres.

Festivity Level Three: Your guests are arguing violently with inanimate objects, singing "I Can't Get No Satisfaction," gulping other people's drinks, wolfing down Christmas tree ornaments, and placing hors d'oeuvres in the upright piano to see what happens when the little hammers strike them. (You want to keep your party somewhere around Level Three, unless you rent your home and own firearms, in which case you can go to Level Four.)

Festivity Level Four: Your guests have hors d'oeuvres smeared all over their bodies, are performing a ritual dance around the burning Christmas tree, and have consumed all ten gallons of alcohol at the party. The piano is missing. The best way to get to Level Four is eggnog.

To make eggnog, you'll need rum, whiskey, wine, gin and, if they are in season, eggs. Combine all ingredients in a large, festive bowl. If you use enough alcohol you won't have to worry about them getting salmonella poisoning--their alcohol toxicity level will eliminate that possibility. Then induce your guests to drink this potent mixture.

If your party is successful, the police will knock on your door. If your party is very successful, the police will then lob tear gas through your living-room window. As host, your job is to make sure they don't arrest anybody. Or, if they're dead set on arresting someone, your job is to make sure it isn't you. The best way to do this is to show a lot of respect for their uniforms and assure them you're not doing anything illegal. Here's how to handle it:

Police: "Good evening. Are you the host?"

You: "No."

Police: "We've been getting complaints about this party."

You: "About the drugs?"

Police: "No."

You: "About the guns, then? Is somebody complaining about the guns?"

Police: "No, the noise."

You: "Oh, the noise. Well, that makes sense, because there are no guns or drugs here. (An enormous explosion is heard in the background.) Or fireworks. Who's complaining about the noise? The neighbors?"

Police: "No, the neighbors fled inland hours ago. Most of the recent complaints have come from several miles away. Do you think you could ask the host to quiet things down?"

You: "No problem." (At this point, a Volkswagen bug with primitive religious symbols drawn on the doors emerges from the living room and roars down the hall, past the police and out the front door onto the lawn, where it smashes into a tree. Eight guests tumble out onto the grass, moaning.) "See? Things are starting to wind down."



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10 Signs You Might Not Get a Christmas Bonus

10. Co-workers refer to you as "the ghost of unemployment future."
9. The last time you saw your boss was when he testified against you at the embezzlement trial.
8. On your door, you find a lovely wreath of pink slips.
7. What you call "my new office," everybody else calls "the supply closet."
6. Boss's Christmas card says, "Don't let the door hit you on the way out."
5. You keep getting memos reminding you that employees are required to wear pants.
4. When your boss came over for Thanksgiving, he was crushed under an avalanche of stolen office supplies.
3. Whenever you ask for a raise, a guy shows up at your house and breaks your jaw.
2. In your most recent performance evaluation, the word "terrible" appeared 78 times.
1. You're the starting quarterback for the New York Jets

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A Night Before Christmas Parody (Technical Version) 'Twas the nocturnal segment of the diurnal period preceding the annual Yuletide celebration, and throughout our place of residence, kinetic activity was not in evidence among the possessors of this potential, including that species of domestic rodent known as mus musculus. Hosiery was meticulously suspended from the forward edge of the wood burning caloric apparatus, pursuant to our anticipatory pleasure regarding an imminent visitation from an eccentric philanthropist among whose folkloric appellations is the honorific title of St. Nicholas. The prepubescent siblings, comfortably ensconced in their respective accommodations of repose, were experiencing subconscious visual hallucinations of variegated fruit confections moving rhythmically through their cerebrums. My conjugal partner and I, attired in our nocturnal head coverings, were about to take slumberous advantage of the hibernal darkness when upon the avenaceous exterior portion of the grounds there ascended such a cacophony of dissonance that I felt compelled to arise with alacrity from my place of repose for the purpose of ascertaining the precise source thereof. Hastening to the casement, I forthwith opened the barriers sealing this fenestration, noting thereupon that the lunar brilliance without, reflected as it was on the surface of a recent crystalline precipitation, might be said to rival that of the solar meridian itself -  thus permitting my incredulous optical sensory organs to behold a miniature airborne runnered conveyance drawn by eight diminutive specimens of the genus rangifer,  piloted by a minuscule, aged chauffeur so ebullient and nimble that it became instantly apparent to me that he was indeed our anticipated caller. With his ungulate motive power traveling at what may possibly have been more vertiginous velocity than patriotic alar predators, he vociferated loudly, expelled breath musically through contracted labia, and addressed each of the octet by his or her respective cognomen -  "Now Dasher, now Dancer..." et al. -  guiding them to the uppermost exterior level of our abode, through which structure I could readily distinguish the concatenations of each of the 32 cloven pedal extremities. As I retracted my cranium from its erstwhile location, and was performing a 180-degree pivot, our distinguished visitant achieved -  with utmost celerity and via a downward leap -  entry by way of the smoke passage. He was clad entirely in animal pelts soiled by the ebony residue from oxidations of carboniferous fuels which had accumulated on the walls thereof. His resemblance to a street vendor I attributed largely to the plethora of assorted playthings which he bore dorsally in a commodious cloth receptacle. His orbs were scintillant with reflected luminosity, while his submaxillary dermal indentations gave every evidence of engaging amiability. The capillaries of his malar regions and nasal appurtenance were engorged with blood which suffused the subcutaneous layers, the former approximating the coloration of Albion's floral emblem, the latter that of the Prunus avium, or sweet cherry. His amusing sub-  and supralabials resembled nothing so much as a common loop knot, and their ambient hirsute facial adornment appeared like small, tabular and columnar crystals of frozen water. Clenched firmly between his incisors was a smoking piece whose grey fumes, forming a tenuous ellipse about his occiput, were suggestive of a decorative seasonal circlet of holly. His visage was wider than it was high, and when he waxed audibly mirthful, his corpulent abdominal region undulated in the manner of impectinated fruit syrup in a hemispherical container. He was, in short, neither more nor less than an obese, jocund, multigenarian gnome, the optical perception of whom rendered me visibly frolicsome despite every effort to refrain from so being. By rapidly lowering and then elevating one eyelid and rotating his head slightly to one side, he indicated that trepidation on my part was groundless. Without utterance and with dispatch, he commenced filling the aforementioned appended hosiery with various of the aforementioned articles of merchandise extracted from his aforementioned previously dorsally transported cloth receptacle. Upon completion of this task, he executed an abrupt about-  face, placed a single manual digit in lateral juxtaposition to his olfactory organ, inclined his cranium forward in a gesture of leave-taking, and forthwith effected his egress by renegotiating (in reverse) the smoke passage. He then propelled himself in a short vector onto his conveyance, directed a musical expulsion of air through his contracted oral sphincter to the antlered quadrupeds of burden, and proceeded to soar aloft in a movement hitherto observable chiefly among the seed-bearing portions of a common weed. But I overheard his parting exclamation, audible immediately prior to his vehiculation beyond the limits of visibility: "Ecstatic Yuletide to the planetary constituency, and to that self same assemblage, my sincerest wishes for a salubriously beneficial and gratifyingly pleasurable period between sunset and dawn. "HO! HO! HO!


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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. Frustrated, Santa 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 hid 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!!


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Once Santa Claus went to Ethiopia, to give the children some words of comfort. He was there, with all those bony kids all around, and then they started yelling: "WE WANT TOYS!! WE WANT TOYS!!!" Then, Santa, remembering his important job of orientating children to behave well, said: "A child who doesn't eat right doesn't get toys!!!"