A Christmas Poem
by Paul Gilmartin
Eggnog, tinsel, falling snow
Buttered rum and mistletoe
Christmas trees and hanging lights
The sound of carolers fills the night
Shopping hours long and hard
Visa phones and cancels card
Unpaid bills and mounting debts
Family gathers; depressions sets
Drinking starts, harsh words are said
Dysfunction rears its yuletide head
Argument turns to shovin'
Drunken brother punches cousin
Tree tips over, popping lights
Curtains catch, house ignites
No one hears the reindeer cries
Wedged in chimney, Santa dies
Though he kicked and did perspire
His chestnuts roasted on an open fire.
Christmas in the SOUTH
In a small southern town there was a "Nativity Scene" that showed great skill and talent had gone into creating it. One small feature bothered me. The three wise men were wearing firemen's helmets.
Totally unable to come up with a reason or explanation, I left. At a "Quik Stop" on the edge of town, I asked the lady behind the counter about the helmets. She exploded into a rage, yelling at me, "You darn Yankees never do read the Bible!" I assured her that I did, but simply couldn't recall anything about firemen in the Bible.
She jerked her Bible from behind the counter and ruffled through some pages, and finally jabbed her finger at a passage. Sticking it in my face she said "See, it says right here, 'The three wise men came from afar.'"
A festive holiday poem by Hugh Drumm & Vincent Ambrose
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Net, There were hackers a-surfing. Nerds? Yeah, you bet. The e-mails were stacked by the modem with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there. The newbies were nestled all snug by their screens, While visions of Java danced in their dreams. My wife on the sofa and me with a snack, We just settled down at my rig (it's a Mac). When out in the Web there arose such a clatter, I jumped to the site to see what was the matter. To a new page my Mac flew like a flash, Then made a slight gurgle. It started to crash!! I gasped at the thought and started to grouse, Then turned my head sideways and clicked on my mouse. When what to my wondering eyes should appear, My Mac jumped to a page that wasn't quite clear. When the image resolved, so bright and so quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick! More rapid than mainframes, more graphics they came, Then Nick glanced toward my screen, my Mac called them by name; "Now Compaq! Now Acer!", my speaker did reel; "On Apple! On Gateway!" Santa started to squeal! "Jump onto the circuits! And into the chip! Now speed it up! Speed it up! Make this thing hip!" The screen gave a flicker, he was into my RAM, Then into my room rose a full hologram! He was dressed in all red, from his head to his shoes, Which were black (the white socks he really should lose). He pulled out some discs he had stored in his backpack. Santa looked like a dude who was rarin' to hack! His eyes, how they twinkled! His glasses, how techno! This ain't the same Santa that I used to know! With a wink of his eye and a nod of his head, Santa soon let me know I had nothing to dread. He spoke not a word, gave my Mac a quick poke, And accessed my C drive with only a stroke. He defragged my hard drive, and added a SIMM, Then threw in some cool games, just on a whim! He worked without noise, his fingers they flew! He distorted some pictures with Kai's Power Goo! He updated Office, Excel and Quicken, Then added a screensaver with a red clucking chicken! My eyes widened a bit, my mouth stood agape, As he added the latest version of Netscape. The drive gave a whirl, as if it were pleased, St. Nick coyly smiled, the computer appeased. Then placing his finger on the bridge of his nose, Santa turned into nothing but ones and zeros! He flew back into my screen and through my uplink, Back into the net with barely a blink. But I heard his sweet voice as he flew from my sight, "Happy surfing to all, and to all a good byte!"
'Twas the night before Christmas and throughout the White House
Al Gore was eyeing Hillary, peering into her blouse.
The Secret Service men were guarding the premises with care,
for a whole host of Democrats were vacationing there.
Chelsea was nestled all snug in her bed
after locking out Mr. Kennedy and the dirty thoughts in his head.
And Bill in his sportcoat; a heavy gray tweed,
had just fried his brain with some Mexican weed.
When out in the garden came a plethora of noise,
all drunken and rowdy: 'twas Gingrich and the boys!
Bill jumped to the window, and tore open the sash,
"It's a raid boys!" he cried, "Quick, go hide my stash!"
The pot in his blood and the moon on the snow
gave a psychedelic haze to the objects below.
When what to Bill's frantic eyes should appear,
but a slew of Republicans and a keg of ice beer,
with a big old leader, all lively and fat;
He knew it was Newt, "Proponent of GATT!"
As vicious as vipers, the Republicans came.
Bill recognized them and called them all by name.
"Hey Helms! Hey Thurmond! Hey Packwood and Hatch!
Hey Dole and Pataki, it's time for a bash!"
A collective cheer rose out from the crowd,
"Let's listen to Nugent, and turn it up loud!"
Together Dems and Republicans danced and sang out in cheer,
"Screw Health Care and Haiti, it's time to drink beer!"
When from the chimney, came a blinding black cloud of soot,
and Limbaugh danced from the fireplace in a red Santa suit.
He moved through the crowd, then held up his hand
and when all was silent, he did a keg stand.
And the crowd raised their cups, as Newt bowed down in prayer,
and champagne flowed freely, just like welfare.
As Kennedy and Reno romped in the Green Room,
the rest of the crooks outlined their Hidden Agenda of Doom:
"We'll pray in schools, we'll shove it down their throats!"
"More welfare, more taxes, we'll still get the votes!"
And they drank, hugged, and danced, they crossed party lines,
and they cheered, "It doesn't matter, we're all bastard swines!"
So they threw out allegiance and partisan crap
and took turns sitting on the president's lap.
And Gephardt and Dole passed out on the lawn,
and awoke in the morning without their pants on.
And Packwood gave Tipper a pat on the rear,
while Judge Thomas and Miss Hill went out for more beer.
Then the party-goers discovered a sight so touching and cute,
President Clinton fast asleep, snuggled up next to Newt.
Santa Limbaugh smiled and threw up on his boots,
"A Merry Clinton to all, and to all a good Newt!"
Internet access provided by One World Telecommunications of Kennewick. I got tired of the low IQ technicians, slow (or zero) response, and constant busy signals from Basin Office SystemS (BOSS).
Last Modified: January 4th, 1997 (DDF)