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.
🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻
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.
🎅🏻
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. I suffer from a nagging case of Santa PTSB that recurs every December. I want it known that I was fighting terrorism as a six-year-old long before it became fashionable. Reposting this story helps me with my Santa issues like nothing else can. 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. With that in mind here’s 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 Santa’s 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 wasn’t 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. I’d 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 weren’t. 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, I’d 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 aunt’s 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. 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, I’m 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’m feeling a little lazy today because I’ve spent the last 24 hours watching my better-half also known as the Christmas Elf lose her mind. She’s been pulling containers of Christmas memorabilia from the attic by the arm load. I know if I stand still for more than 5 minutes, I’ll be draped in garlands and blinking lights. We’ve got a huge assortment of lights purchased over the years, we got a mile of garlands, and an incredible number of little elves and holidays knickknacks on every available surface. I wish I was exaggerating but I’m not. I’m hiding in my man-cave attempting to keep a low profile and to keep Christmas from overflowing into my private space. I’ve been successful so far, but I hold little hope that it will last. It’s not that I’m a Christmas Grinch but I’m nowhere near as nuts about the holiday as she is.
I tried to hide yesterday but she kept finding me. Before I knew it and before I can say too much, I was assigned the duties of putting up the tree. Then there were the endless Christmas carols that she was singing to me while she prepared boxfuls of goodies that she’s sending to people and family all around the country. She’ll probably spend more money on shipping those boxes than she did on the gifts contained in them. I’m sure she sees it as her contribution to keeping the Postal Service profitable and I’m sure they’ll really appreciate her concern and generosity. My only contribution so far to the Christmas spirit of the household is contained in this cartoon from a few years ago that I saved and it pretty much describes my thoughts on this entire matter. LOL
Since we’re now in the first weekend in October and the Summer is over, everyone is feeling a little down. Here’s my attempt to make all of you smile just a bit. The old saying, “laughter is the best medicine”, remains true to this day. So, here’s some humor. It costs nothing to smile.
Two identical twin brothers died at around the same time. One was happily married, did charitable works and generally lead a blameless life; the other was a drunken womanizer, a serial liar and a cheat. The bad twin went to hell and the good went to heaven, from where he was able to look down on his bad brother. The good twin was dismayed that hell was not as bad as he had hoped. Indeed, his brother seem to be having the time of his life, drinking, partying and enjoying the company of beautiful women. Eventually the good twin complained to St. Peter: “Heaven is very nice and peaceful, but my brother appears to be having plenty of fun in hell. He has his own beer keg and just look at that gorgeous woman he’s been given. St. Peter said: “Fear not, my son. All is not as it seems. The keg has a hole in it; the woman doesn’t.”
A man walked into his doctor’s office and said: “Doctor, I have five penises.” “I see,” said the doctor. “How do your trousers fit”? “Like a glove.”
For his birthday a little boy asked for a 10-speed bicycle. His dad said, “We’d let you have one, but the mortgage on this house is $140,000 and your mother just lost her job. There’s no way we can afford It.” The next morning the father saw the boy heading out of the front door carrying a suitcase. “Where are you going?” he asked. The boy answered: “I was walking past your bedroom last night and heard you tell mom you were pulling out. Then I heard her tell you to wait because she was coming too. And I’ll be damned if I’m staying here by myself with $140,000 mortgage and no bike”!
A man and woman were having sex in a very dark forest. After fifteen minutes of fumbling around the man said: “Man, I wish I had a flashlight.” The girl said: “So do I you ass. You’ve been eating grass for the past ten minutes!”
A man looked out his window late one night and saw a gang of thieves breaking into his garden shed. He called the police immediately, but the station sergeant said there was no one available to respond. “OK”, said the homeowner, and he put the phone down. Five minutes later, he telephoned the station again “Don’t worry about sending anyone out to deal with the shed burglars at 53 Larch Avenue., I just shot them”. Within two minutes the road was swarming with police cars. The officers caught the burglars red-handed, but the sergeant was furious. He said to the homeowner, “I thought you said you shot them!” The homeowner immediately countered: “I thought you said there was nobody available.”
“A gift is pure when it is given from the heart to the right
person at the right time and at the right place, and when
we expect nothing in return.”
Bhagavad Gita
🤪🤪🤪
Joke of the Day #1
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. “It represents a candle”, he said. “Very well, you may pass through the pearly gates,” Saint Peter said. The second man reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. He shook them and said, “They’re bells.” Saint Peter said, “You may also pass through the pearly gates.” The third man started searching desperately through his pockets and finally pulled out a pair of women’s panties. St. Peter looked at the man with a raised eyebrow and asked, “And just what do those symbolize?” The man replied, “These are Carol’s.”
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Limerick of the Day
Old Santa had such a lovely beard,
Who once said, “It is just as I feared!
Two owls and a hen,
Four larks and a wren,
Have all built their nests in my beard!”
🤡🤡🤡
Joke of the Day #2
One Christmas Eve, Santa was under a lot of stress. He and Mrs. Claus had just had a fight, it was nearly time to leave, and his sleigh wasn’t loaded, and the elves were talking about going on strike. Then an angel walked into his office and asked, “Hey, Santa, what do you want me to do with this Christmas tree?” And so was born the tradition of there being an angel on top of the Christmas tree.
Here I sit poolside watching my two grandsons beating my better-half in a mean and nasty game of Triple War. Losing to an eleven and eight-year-old is kind of embarrassing and I gladly told her so. Warm day, great barbecue, new puppy, cool pool, board games, and family. It doesn’t get much better for a hot August day. The sun is broiling my bald head but I’m not complaining. All too soon we’ll be shoveling that white stuff once again and I can continue complaining even more then. But for today I thought I’d offer a couple of tongue twisting limericks to challenge you.
This is my first Tibetan limerick . . .
A Tibetan made a bet on his toboggan
That his toboggan could get down the hill hot-doggin.
The Tibetan got to bettin’,
But while bettin’ kept forgettin’,
It was August, so he landed on his noggin.
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A reckless rough roofer, Ralph Rufus,
Was a ruthless fool know as a doofus,
When Rufus roofed on a roof,
No roof was found to be Ralph-proof,
Roofing roofers felt Rufus a complete and total goofus.
Since Christmas has finally come and gone, I thought another installment of An Examined Life would get us all thinking about the end of another year and what we’ve accomplished or didn’t accomplish. Maybe these postings can assist us in deciding what our New Year’s resolutions might be. They’re always fun to write and I’ll be posting mine very soon. How about you?
When did you last sing to yourself? To someone else?
You have the power to go any distance into the future and after one year, return to the present with any knowledge you have gained from your experience, but you cannot bring any physical objects with you. Would you make the journey if it carried a 50% risk of death?
Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as your dinner guest? As your closest friend? As your lover?
While working late at night, you slightly scraped the side of a nearby Porsche. You’re certain no one else is aware of what happened. The damage is minor and would not be covered by insurance anyway. Would you leave a note?
If you could choose the manner of your death, what would it be?
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Do you have any specific long-term goals? What is one and how you plan to reach it?
For what in your life do you feel the most grateful?
How do you react when people sing “Happy Birthday” to you in a restaurant?
What is the worst psychological torture you can imagine suffering? Anything causing even minor physical injury should not be considered.
Would you like your spouse to be both smarter and more attractive than you?
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If you found that a good friend had AIDS, would you avoid him or her? What if your brother or sister had it?
Would you be willing to give up sex for one year if you knew it would give you a much deeper sense of peace than you have now?
A good friend pulls off a well-conceived practical joke that plays on one of your foibles and makes you look ridiculous. How would you react?
By controlling medical research funds, you are in the position to guarantee that a cure will be found in fifteen years for any disease you choose. Unfortunately, no progress on any others would be made during that period. Would you target one disease?
Would you accept one year of life if it meant taking one year from the life of someone in the world selected at random? Would it matter if you were told whose life you had shortened?
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