... AND TO ALL A GOOD LAUGH
Santa Claus is coming to town – and he’s bringing a grab bag of Christmas jokes to make your spirits bright
’Tis the season to be jolly with our laugh-outloud jokes and anecdotes.
THE HOLIDAY SEASON officially starts on the last Friday of November, when the first shopper is trampled in a rush for this year’s must-have gift. But the holidays really began last December 26, when every disappointed child formulated a demands wish list in preparation for the next haul.
For example, one seven-year-old girl wrote this list, to which her dad added his thoughts.
“Black, light blue, green, purple, and pink North Faces.” Five North Face jackets at 100 bucks each? Dream smaller. That is apparel meant for serious outdoorsmen who dangle from belayed ropes on the south face of K2. The outdoorsiest we get is when we roll down the window at the drive-through.
“A new radio.” Done. I’ll throw in my old Betamax collection as a stocking stuffer.
“$1000.” You want cash? Clear the spiders out of the attic. I’ll give you three bucks for it.
“A light-up Razor scooter that is the colour blue.” “Dad, for Christmas, can I get hit by a car?”
“A new canape that glows up.” So, like, a glowing miniature crab cake with a toothpick in it? I could maybe do that.
“A pet puppy border collie with a peace sign coller and a leash.” Do you see any borders in this house that need patrolling, apart from the bathroom door when Daddy is having his alone time? No.
“A black rist bange.” I don’t know what this is, but done.
DREW MAGARY, from deadspin.com
Of course, gift giving may not be everyone’s strong suit. One year, my father gave Mom a DVD. In itself it wasn’t a bad gift, except a) it was a rental, and b) we didn’t own a DVD player.
AMY MARSHALL HODGES
Santa’s a pro, which is why kids bypass parents and appeal to him:
“Dear Santa, Please text my dad. He has my whole list.”
“Dear Santa, Sorry for what I did in the past, and thank you for the Christmas letter. I love it. But what I want for Christmas is $53 billion.”
“Dear Santa, How are you? I’m good. Here is what I want for Christmas: http://www.amazon. com/dp/B0032HF60M/ref=sr_1_1?ie =UTF8&qid=1410271945&sr=8-1”
Why Do We Need This Information? Santa Claus requires your information in order to compile his annual list of who is Naughty and who is Nice and to ensure accuracy when he checks it twice.
What Information Do We Collect? We obtain information from the unsolicited letters sent to Santa by children all over the world listing specific items they would like to receive for Christmas. Often these letters convey additional information, such as which of their siblings are doodyheads. The letters also provide another important piece of information – fingerprints. We run these through databases maintained by the FBI, CIA, NSA, Interpol, MI6 and the Mossad. If we find a match, it goes straight on the Naughty List.
What Do We Do with the Information We Collect? Sharing is one of the joys of Christmas. For this reason, we share your personal information with unaffiliated third parties: the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, and Hanukkah Harry.
LAURENCE HUGHES, from McSweeney’s Internet Tendency
It’s time for the Christmas light competitions: neighbour against neighbour, suburb against suburb: My daughter and I took the long route through the neighbourhood to admire the Christmas decorations. One front yard contained a trove of lights, ornaments, elves, carollers, trimmings … in short, it was a mess. My daughter summed it up perfectly when she announced, “It looks like Christmas threw up.”
Do you hear what I hear? That’s right; music is filling the
air! Have you downloaded the latest holiday album? It had them dancing in the streets of Bethlehem centuries ago! The Little Drummer Boy’s Greatest Hits: Includes the songs “Pum Pum Pum Pum,” “Rum Pum Pum,” “Ba Rum Pum Pum,” “Rum Pum Pum Ba Rum Pum Pum,” and special bonus track “Pum Pum Pum, Ba Rum Pum Pum.”
Hope you like schmaltzy, sentimental holiday movies because that’s what will be playing on TV night and day for the entire month. In case you’ve forgotten any of these films you’ve seen only 47 times, some brief reviews:
How the Grinch Stole Christmas:
“Crimes against Who-manity”
A Christmas Carol: “Bob, Marley” Elf: “A Christmas Ferrell”
It’s a Wonderful Life: “Technically,
Stewart’s a zombie”
The Santa Clause: “Killer gets
Next, the tree. Note: The real trick isn’t picking the right pine. It’s getting it inside your home. But with our 15-point plan, you’ll be trimming in no time. 1) Cut the cords that bind the tree to the roof of your car. Allow them to snap back and strike you in the eye. 2) Curse. 3) Slowly pull the tree toward you. 4) Wobble under its weight for a few seconds, then fall down. 5) Curse. 6) Stand up and notice the fresh scratches on the roof of your car. 7) Curse. 8) Drag the tree to your front door. Spend 15 minutes figuring out how to open the door while simultaneously getting the tree through it. 9) Drag the tree away from the door so that you can enter the house with the tree facing in the right direction. 10) Once inside, fill the tree stand with water. 11) Knock all the water out of the tree stand because you forgot to wait to fill the tree stand until after putting the tree in it. 12) Curse. 13) Your tree should now be in the stand. Notice the fallen needles that have reduced your tree to half the size it was when you bought it. 14) Down seven cups of eggnog to settle your nerves. 15) Curse slurringly.
You’re not home free yet. It’s time to get decorating, and there’s so much more that can go wrong! Securing Christmas lights to the tree can be a production. One year, when we finally stood back and flicked on the light switch, I noticed that a branch obscured our prized angel ornament. I grabbed the pruning shears, mounted a stool, snipped once, and the lights went
out. My husband quietly said, “You don’t have your glasses on, do you?”
LYNN KITCHEN Your Christmas tree has practically become a member of the family: the needy, spoiled, flamboyant side that knows when it’s time to go: “All that time spent selecting and decorating, and a week after [Christmas], you see the tree by the side of the road, like a mob hit. A car slows down, a door opens, and a tree rolls out.”
COMEDIAN JERRY SEINFELD Let’s relax and read Christmas cards! Far more than just holiday greetings, they allow you to finally see what your accountant’s family looks like. We once received a Christmas card with a photograph of a family in costumes and masks. No name, no text, no return address. We never did figure out who sent it.
Would you like to learn how to write a boastful, overly intimate holiday letter? Our how-to guide can help, illustrated with real quotes.
Open strong, seizing ownership of the battler role: “What was [the year] like for you? Did the flood waters rise and storms of life rain on you? If so, we understand…”
Brag about any new job developments – especially if you don’t deserve them: “I got promoted this year to VP … shows how little they really know about my past!!!”
Be creative! Even good news can be delivered so the reader cringes: “[My wife has] felt almost every negative feeling you can have during a pregnancy – nausea, fatigue, rashes, arthritis, sciatic nerve pain, hip pains, and strong emotional conditions.”
If you want to cement your status as least favourite distant cousins, just write the most dreaded words in the English language: “We thought it would be cool if we shared what’s going on as a PowerPoint presentation.”
Sources: worstchristmasletters.blogspot.com There are those who live by the credo that it is better to give than to receive. Without them, we wouldn’t get as many presents, or this gloriously mixed-up exchange. An ad spotted in a newspaper: “Congratulations George B. for pleasing 15 women for an entire day! We were all exhausted and very satisfied.” The next day’s ad: “Our sincere apology to George B. Our intentions were to thank him for a generous holiday shopping trip, which he arranged. Any inappropriate innuendos were unintentional.”
Source: clamorly.com Wait, we all know that presents are not what Christmas is all about. Let us pause while these children remind us about the story of Christmas: What animals were there when baby Jesus was born? “There was a donkey, a sheep, and a cow there as well as Mary and Joseph. It sounds quite crowded.”
HANNAH, AGE SEVEN
What gifts did the three wise men bring? “They brought Jesus presents of gold, frankincense, smurr, and silver. But I think he would have preferred wrestling toys.”
JAY, AGE FIVE, from the Daily Mail
OK, enough pretending. Give us the presents already! Scene: Christmas morning, and I’m opening my gifts. Dad: “Open that one next, sweetie.” (He points to a box, which I open. Inside is one of those obnoxious singing-and-dancing robot Christmas trees. I’m a bit shocked, as I had pointed out how much I hate these things when we went
shopping together just the week before.) Me: “Uh, weren’t you listening when I said I thought these were the most annoying things ever?” Dad: “I know, I know. But … open that one next.” (This time he points to a long, heavy package. I open it up to reveal a sledgehammer.) Me: “Is this for what I think it’s for?” Dad: “And you thought I wasn’t paying attention!”
Even the family pet takes part. My First Toy My first toy Has wood for me to claw My first toy Has string for me to bite My first toy Has a hole for me to hide in My first toy Is called, “Oh, dear God, no! My guitar!” My first toy Is the best toy of them all.
FRANCESCO MARCIULANO, from the book I Knead My Mommy, And Other Poems
by Kittens The gifts are opened, the eggnog consumed, and your kid has begun a demands wish list for next year. If you’re feeling woozy, it may be because you’ve contracted at least one of these seasonal maladies:
Gingervitis: A Martha Stewart-like state of perfectionism manifested when building elaborate gingerbread homes.
Seasonal Affection Disorder (SAD): An exaggerated emotional response (typically shrieking and air-kissing) triggered by seeing insignificant acquaintances at annual parties.
Gift-aphasia: Loss of memory that causes the accidental recycling of gifts back to the same people who gave them to you last year.
BOB MORRIS, from the New York Observer