Well, it’s New Years Eve once again. This was a fun holiday when I was in my teens and twenties but these days not so much. I never really understood what the big deal was and still don’t. It’s just a day and night made for drinking, carousing, and avoiding sobriety check points. I hope none of you become victims of that stupidity and cause an accident that may harm yourself and others by drinking and driving. In my years as a police officer, I made a point of not working on this holiday. I took the day off and then occasionally drank too much, caroused too much, and got really stupid. I managed to survive but only just.
This year I’m housebound and safe from the fits of holiday stupidity. Please be safe . . . and not too stupid. I wouldn’t want to be reading about any of you on “the day after”. Let me bring a few smiles to your lips before you decide to begin your celebration by taking a little trip to the 1980’s for some occasionally rude and hilarious humor.
If the shrimps come in on a shrimp boat, how do the crabs come in? On the captain’s dinghy.
Why did Miss Piggy miss her last concert? She had a frog in her throat.
What happens when you moon in bumper-to-bumper traffic? You wind up with your ass in a jam.
What’s the difference between a counterfeit dollar bill and a skinny girl? The counterfeit bill is a phony buck.
What’s the definition of a real lady? Someone who doesn’t smoke, doesn’t drink, and only curses if it slips out.
Why did they name the new feminine hygiene spray SSY? Because it takes the PU out of pussy.
What happens when a guaranteed condom breaks? The guarantee runs out.
What’s 138? Dinner for four.
When do you know you’ve had the world’s best head? You have to pull the sheet out of your ass.
What’s the difference between frustration and panic? Frustration is the first time you find out you can’t do it the second time, and panic is the second time you found out you couldn’t do it the first time.
Christmas is gone . . . thankfully. I love all the presents, and I love all the decorations (if I’m not forced into putting them up), but my downfall is all the damn food. I’m what you might call a “taster”. I love tasting everything and this year was the worst since last year. I swear we had enough food for twenty people but unfortunately, there were only seven of us. That means that I’ll be eating reheated holiday leftovers for at least the next two weeks. Also, let’s not forget the large influx of food anticipated on New Years Eve and again on New Years Day. I have absolutely no willpower and I’ll probably be found dead with a large slab of lukewarm ham hanging out of my mouth. With that cheery thought in mind, I’ll be posting a few tidbits of trivia about food as I sit here eating blueberry donuts and cherry lifesavers.
Animal Crackers were introduced in 1902 as a Christmas novelty item and packaged with a string for a handle. It made it easier to hang them on the Christmas tree as an ornament.
Coffee was officially recognized as a Christian drink by Pope Clement VIII in 1592.
Most of the egg rolls sold in grocery stores in the United States are actually produced in Houston, Texas.
The American city that consumes the most ketchup is New Orleans.
Eighty-seven percent of whole milk is water.
Miss Piggy of Muppets fame was once quoted, “Never eat more than you can lift.”
The term “Surf & Turf” was coined by gastronome Diamond Jim Brady and was first served to him at a waterfront restaurant in Brooklyn, NY, in the late 1880’s.
The name Lorna Doone was the name given to a shortbread cookie in 1869 based on a novel by the same name.
Baskin-Robbins introduced an ice cream, Lunar Cheesecake, in 1969 to commemorate the moon landing.
Salsa overtook the ever-popular ketchup as the top selling condiment in 1991.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t really dislike Christmas, but I certainly dislike the never-ending and relentless commercialization of what is supposed to be a religious celebration. I have to credit Amazon for doubling down on the holidays like never before because they’ve made it entirely too easy for people to overspend which in turn requires me to discipline myself like never before. Just too many gadgets, too many commercials and an endless supply of scammers who may be the hardest workers of all during the holidays. For every email I get from friends and family members, I get 100 from scammers and spammers. I’ve slowly been turned into a paranoid person like never before. It feels good to have the holiday over so I can get back to what I call normal (and I use that term loosely).
The post today will be taking a sharp left turn from the holidays to celebrate three things I love: poetry, young children, and Winter. Here are a few samples of great poetry by a few up-and-coming young poets.
The following story took place in Korea in 1967. It was my first Christmas without family and friends, and I really felt that loss. Here’s my story of how a few Korean friends helped make that Christmas one to remember . . .
Iβve talked a great deal over the years about my experiences while serving in the Army. As with any young man or woman serving outside of this country, being away from home and family during the Christmas season for the first time is difficult. In my case I was not only away from family, but I was also in a non-Christian country that seemed to be more than a little primitive to me.
Their religion was primarily Buddhist, and the Christmas holiday meant very little to them. They at times pretended to understand but that was motivated entirely by their desire to make money from visiting Americans.
At the time I was stationed in an area that was primarily populated by rice farmers living in small villages that dotted the northern countryside. There were no paved roads and most villages only had electric power for a few hours a day. For those of us from the United States it was like traveling back in time a hundred years.
I was living almost full time in a local village and actually had my laundry taken by a local woman to a nearby river where it was beaten on the rocks with wooden paddles and soap.Β That certainly took some getting used to for me.Β My Korean friends seemed totally befuddled by the entire Christmas holiday bro-ha-ha and sat politely and silently as I tried to explain it to them. They were interested in my stories of Christ and the Magi, but the virgin birth story had them all giggling a little.
Regardless I was determined to have a Christmas celebration so I asked a few of my them for their help in putting up a Christmas tree. They agreed to help but werenβt exactly sure what I was up to. As that project was progressing I had a little old mama-san ask me through an interpreter why would any sane person put a tree inside their home. I was hard pressed to answer her because I didnβt know the reason either. They continued to humor me as I explained other peculiarities that they couldnβt quite grasp.
A week or so later with two Korean friends I hiked up a nearby mountain near a small Buddhist temple to find a tree. We ended up dragging back the sorriest looking bush you could ever imagine, set it up in my hooch, and started to decorate it as best we could. There was a hand-made star on top of the tree (my doing) and a number of pieces of charcoal tied to the branches with twine (their doing). I never had that fully explained to me, but it was what they wanted to do. It had something to do with good luck or good pregnancy or something. Since we had no electricity, they suggested placing candles in and around the tree, but I nixed that idea immediately. The last thing I needed was to burn down my hooch and a portion of the village when my little, dry, and nasty looking tree, burst into flames.
I had some GI decorations I made from C-rations that looked stupid as hell, but the villagers loved it. Later we ate most of the decorations and drank a bottle of really cheap brandy that Iβd brought along for the occasion. I presented them each with a small gift of candy and got a little kiss on the cheek from everyone.
It wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t sophisticated, but it was heartfelt. Looking back over the years it remains one of the best Christmases I’ve ever had. It also helped endear me to the villagers and them to me. The following Christmas they even arrived with a strange collection of ornaments for my tree and couldn’t wait to once again hear my holiday stories.
With only a few days left until Christmas, I thought a little humor was needed to help calm the nerves of all you Christmas elves. I’m sure you’re exhausted from all the shopping, wrapping, and dealing with the excitement of your children and family. Today’s post is just a little humor to lighten the mood. I’ll be saving my best Christmas post for Christmas eve.
This is a corny joke but what the hell, it’s Christmas:
Three men died on Christmas Eve and were met by Saint Peter at the pearly gates. “In honor of this holy season,” Saint Peter said, “You must each possess something that symbolizes Christmas to get into heaven.” The first man fumbled through his pockets and pulled out a lighter. He flicked it on. This represents a Christmas candle, he said. Saint Peter then directed him through the pearly gates. The second man reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. He shook them lightly and said, “These are Christman Bells”. Saint Peter immediately passed him through the pearly gates. The third man started searching desperately through his pockets and finally pulled out a women’s red thong. St. Peter looked at the man with a raised eyebrow and asked, “And just what do those symbolize?” The man replied, “They’re Carols”.
Nothing like a sweet Christmaskiss.
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Christmas History Tidbit
In the sixteenth century, many Christians gave up the Catholic faith and became Protestants. The rejection of Christmas rituals was done to allegedly to keep the religion pure. Later, in 1647, a law was passed by Parliament abolishing Christmas altogether. Some believers felt that the law went much too far. There were times when entire congregations were arrested for celebrating Christmas.
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JUST GOES TO SHOW THAT YOUR CHRISTMAS COULD BE WORSE
I’ve been a homebrewer for more than thirty years. I’ve made thousands of bottles of wine over the years because I’m just not a big fan of beer. My few attempts at making beer were miserable failures or that’s what I’ve been told by the “Beer” people. It was a fun hobby and mostly kept me at home and out of trouble for years. When I notice something related to home brewing, I always save it for later use. This post has been in my files for a lot of years, and I can’t even remember where it came from, so I dusted it off, and here it is. Maybe next Christmas it might motivate some of you “Beer” people give it a try.
“TWAS THE HOMEBREWER’S NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS”
Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, Every creature was thirsty, including the mouse… The steins were empty, and the bottles were too The beer had been drunk with no time to brew.
My family was nestled all snug in their beds While visions of Christmas Ale foamed in their heads. Mama in her kerchief lamented the drought, She craved a pilsner and I, a large stout.
When out on the lawn, there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter. Away to the kitchen, I flew like a flash, Opening the door with a loud bang and crash!
I threw on the switch and the lights, all aglow, Gave a luster of mid-day to the brew-pot below. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear But Gambrinus himself, the patron of beer.
With a look in his eye, so lively and quick, He said, “You want beer? Well, here, take your pick.” More rapid than eagles, his recipes came As he whistled and shouted and called them by name.
“Now, Pilsener! Now, Porter! Now, Stout and Now Maerzen! On, Bitter! On, Lager! On, Bock and On Weizen!” “To the top of the bottles, the short and the tall, Now brew away, brew away, and fill them all!”
As dried hops before a wild hurricane fly, And then, without warning, settle down with a sigh, So towards the brew-pot, the ingredients flew, Malt extract, roasted barley and crystal malt, too.
And then in a twinkling, I heard it quite plain, The cracking open of each barley grain. As I drew in my head and was turning around, Into the kitchen, he came with a bound.
He was dressed like a knight, from his head to his toes, With an old family crest adorning his clothes. A bundle of hops, he had flung on his back, And the brewing began when he opened his pack.
His hops were so fragrant! His barley, how sweet! The adjuncts included Munich malt and some wheat. The malted barley was mashed in the tun, Then boiled with hops in the brew-pot ’till done.
Excitement had me gnashing my teeth, As the sweet smell encircled my head like a wreath. Beer yeast was pitched, both lager and ale, The wort quickly fermented; not once did it fail.
It was then krausened, or with sugar primed, And just being bottled when midnight had chimed. A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, Soon gave me to know, I’d be shortly in bed.
He spoke not a word but kept on with his work, And capped all the bottles, then turned with a jerk. And laying a finger alongside his nose, He belched (quite a burp!) before he arose.
Clean-up was easy, with only a whistle, And away the mess flew, like the down on a thistle. And I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he left me the beer, “Merry Christmas to all and a HOPPY New Year!”
To continue the Christmas theme for this week I thought a few comments and cartoons concerning the holidays was badly needed. This short poem from the late and great Benny Hill should start things off properly.
Roses are reddish
Violets are bluish
If it weren’t for Christmas
We’d all be Jewish.
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He was no Edgar Allen Poe, but he always seemed to get his messages across. These next two tidbits were a contribution by our oldest favorite writer and poet, Anonymous.
The three stages of a man’s life:
1. He believes in Santa Claus.
2. He doesn’t believe in Santa Claus;
3. He is Santa Claus.
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“Christmas is Christ’s revenge for the crucifixion.”
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And finally, a few quotes from celebrities or former celebrities.
“I stopped believing in Santa Claus when my mother took me to see
him in a department store, and he asked for my autograph.”
Shirley Temple
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Santa Claus has the right idea: Visit people once a year.”
Years ago, I posted this story more as therapy for myself than anything else.Β I suffer from a nagging case of Santa PTSB that recurs every December.Β I want it known that I was fighting terrorism as a six-year-old long before it became fashionable.Β Reposting this story helps me with my Santa issues like nothing else can.Β That big fat and jolly SOB is known in our house as Osama Bin Santa and the only difference between him and other terrorists is that Santa loves victimizing young children.Β With that in mind hereβs my scary and terrifying Christmas story straight from 1955.
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As a young child my parents made every attempt to make Christmas memorable for my sister and me. My sister was very young and I was just turning 6 years old. I still firmly believed all the stories about Santaβs elves and all the other good stuff. In the back of my young mind there was a seed of skepticism secretly growing. I was beginning to have serious doubts about Santa and my parents as well. A lot of what I was being told by my trusted family members wasnβt what I was hearing on the street (school yard). My friends had almost convinced me that the whole Santa thing was just BS and that the adults were actually the real gift givers. I think it was at that early age that my trust issues with authority figures first began.
My parents began to suspect I was wavering, and their propaganda was now falling on deaf ears. In a conspiracy involving my mother, her sister, my grandparents, and my dad it was decided that drastic action was immediately necessary to convince me that Santa was the real deal. Iβd been acting out a lot and being a little disrespectful to my elders, so it was time for Santa to step in and straighten me out once and for all.
It was the week before Christmas and we were visiting my grandparents. I was being a huge pain in the ass as usual like a lot of six-year-olds can be at that time of the year. It was just after dark and I was walking through the house down a narrow hallway towards the kitchen. It was dark outside and as I passed the window I glanced over and almost had a six-year-old heart attack. There was Santa looking back at me and smiling a frightening smile. My blood turned cold and I got the hell out of there screaming all the way upstairs to hide under the bed. My parents let me know in no uncertain terms that Santa was out looking for those children who were being good and keeping an eye on those that werenβt. I was on the latter list, of course.
For the next few days, I was a complete angel but after dark I was still nervous about looking out the windows. Santa the terrorist had accomplished his mission. I saw him again on two or three other occasions over the next two Christmases, once at our house, and again in the coal cellar at my grandparents’ home. Unfortunately, Iβd already consulted with my knowledgeable friends at the playground, and I was officially a nonbeliever by then. I went along with the charade for as long as possible since my parents were the ones giving me the gifts. They finally had a meeting and decided I was just playing them for extra toys and my game was over.
Skip ahead 25 yearsasI was digging through an old trunk in my auntβs bedroom. I discovered where Santa had been hiding for all those many years. His retirement consisted of being tucked under a pile of sheets and pillowcases in that old trunk. My aunt laughed until she cried when I confronted her with the Santa costume.Β We relived a very special and scary Christmas memory and thoroughly enjoyed the special moment.
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What I never told her, or my parents was the lingering collateral damage from their well-meaning actions. To this day during the Christmas season, Iβm careful in dark rooms and hallways and try never to look out the windows, NEVER! In the malls and stores where Santa is holding court, I stay the hell away. That guy still scares the bejesus out of me. Terrorism is no joke.
My Christmas season has taken a nasty turn earlier than usual. Just when I thought it was going to be a fun holiday, I made the mistake of visiting a Walmart. Now I’m finally able to return to my man-cave after being bedridden for three days. Even the painkillers weren’t able to improve my attitude. I was smiling a lot, but it was entirely because of the drugs, not the Christmas season. I won’t get into the specifics of the injury but just let it be said that Walmart restrooms can be hazardous to your health if you’re not careful. LOL.
I’ll be spending most of the remainder of the Christmas season stumbling around with a cane being my ever-so-pleasant self with the help of a few cannabis gummies and additional painkillers. Unfortunately, I was also forced to miss out on all of the decorating being done in the house (I’m so sad!). My better-half turned into an insane Christmas elf and if you were stupid enough to stand anywhere near her you would have been immediately covered with tinsel, garlands and small twinkling lights. My Christmas in hell fantasy had finally come to life. LOL again.
I searched and found another Christmasy cartoon that made me smile a little. I hope it properly conveys my Christmas message in a manner you can all appreciate.
I’ve spent most of my day dealing with a belligerent computer program that refuses to do its job. I shouldn’t be too upset since it’s a program I purchased about 10 years ago. I suspect that it has finally gotten to the point where my new computer is more than it can handle. It was a program used to write what I spoke. Now I’ll be forced to step back a few years and begin typing everything myself. I suppose I’ve gotten a little lazy over the years relying on that software. That being said I’m posting a few limericks today that were originally written sometime prior to 1960. Enjoy them unedited.
everyuselessthing.com 