Little Jesus, sweetly sleep, do not stir;
We will lend a coat of fur,
We will rock you, rock you, rock you,
We will rock you, rock you, rock you:

Fur is no longer appropriate wear for small infants, both due to risk of allergy to animal fur, and for ethical reasons. Therefore faux fur, a nice cellular blanket or perhaps micro-fleece material should be considered a suitable alternative.

Please note, only persons who have been subject to a Criminal Records Bureau check and have enhanced clearance will be permitted to rock baby Jesus. Persons must carry their CRB disclosure with them at all times and be prepared to provide three forms of identification before rocking commences.

Jingle Bells

Dashing through the snow
In a one horse open sleigh
O'er the fields we go
Laughing all the way

A risk assessment must be submitted before an open sleigh is considered safe for members of the public to travel on. The risk assessment must also consider whether it is appropriate to use only one horse for such a venture, particularly if passengers are of larger proportions. Please note, permission must be gained from landowners before entering their fields. To avoid offending those not participating in celebrations, we would request that laughter is moderate only and not loud enough to be considered a noise nuisance.

While Shepherds Watched

While shepherds watched
Their flocks by night
All seated on the ground
The angel of the Lord came down
And glory shone around

The union of Shepherd's has complained that it breaches health and safety regulations to insist that shepherds watch their flocks without appropriate seating arrangements being provided, therefore benches, stools and orthopaedic chairs are now available. Shepherds have also requested that due to the inclement weather conditions at this time of year that they should watch their flocks via cctv cameras from centrally heated shepherd observation huts.

Please note, the angel of the lord is reminded that before shining his / her glory all around she / he must ascertain that all shepherds have been issued with glasses capable of filtering out the harmful effects of UVA, UVB and Glory.

Little Donkey

Little donkey, little donkey on the dusty road
Got to keep on plodding onwards with your precious load

The RSPCA have issued strict guidelines with regard to how heavy a load that a donkey of small stature is permitted to carry, also included in the guidelines is guidance regarding how often to feed the donkey and how many rest breaks are required over a four hour plodding period. Please note that due to the increased risk of pollution from the dusty road, Mary and Joseph are required to wear face masks to prevent inhalation of any airborne particles. The donkey has expressed his discomfort at being labelled 'little' and would prefer just to be simply referred to as Mr. Donkey. To comment upon his height or lack thereof may be considered an infringement of his equine rights.

We Three Kings

We three kings of Orient are
Bearing gifts we traverse afar
Field and fountain, moor and mountain
Following yonder star

Whilst the gift of gold is still considered acceptable - as it may be redeemed at a later date through such organisations as 'cash for gold' etc, gifts of frankincense and myrrh are not appropriate due to the potential risk of oils and fragrances causing allergic reactions. A suggested gift alternative would be to make a donation to a worthy cause in the recipients name or perhaps give a gift voucher.

We would not advise that the traversing kings rely on navigation by stars in order to reach their destinations and suggest the use of RAC routefinder or satellite navigation, which will provide the quickest route and advice regarding fuel consumption. Please note as per the guidelines from the RSPCA for Mr Donkey, the camels carrying the three kings of Orient will require regular food and rest breaks. Facemasks for the three kings are also advisable due to the likelihood of dust from the camels hooves.

Rudolph the red nosed reindeer

Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer
had a very shiny nose.
And if you ever saw him,
you would even say it glows.

You are advised that under the Equal Opportunities For All policy, it is inappropriate for persons to make comment with regard to the ruddiness of any part of Mr. R. Reindeer. Further to this, exclusion of Mr R Reindeer from the Reindeer Games will be considered discriminatory and disciplinary action will be taken against those found guilty of this offence. A full investigation will be implemented and sanctions - including suspension on full pay - will be considered whilst this investigation takes place.

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."

I hate this time of year. Not for its crass commercialism and forced frivolity, but because it's the season when the food police come out with their wagging fingers and annual tips on how to get through the holidays without gaining 10 pounds.

You can't pick up a magazine without finding a list of holiday eating do's and don'ts. Eliminate second helpings, high-calorie sauces and cookies made with butter, they say. Fill up on vegetable sticks, they say.

Good grief. Is your favorite childhood memory of Christmas a carrot stick? I didn't think so. Isn't mine, either. A carrot was something you left for Rudolph.I have my own list of tips for holiday eating. I assure you, if you follow them, you'll be fat and happy.

1. About those carrot sticks. Avoid them. Anyone who puts carrots on a holiday buffet table knows nothing of the Christmas spirit. In fact, if you see carrots, leave immediately. Go next door, where they're serving rum balls.

2. Drink as much eggnog as you can. And quickly. Like fine single-malt scotch, it's rare. In fact, it's even rarer than single-malt scotch. You can't find it any other time of year but now. So drink up! Who cares that it has 10,000 calories in every sip? It's not as if you're going to turn into an egg- nogaholic or something. It's a treat. Enjoy it. Have one for me. Have two. It's later than you think. It's Christmas.

3. If something comes with gravy, use it. That's the whole point of gravy. Pour it on. Make a volcano out of your mashed potatoes. Fill it with gravy. Eat the volcano. Repeat.

4. As for mashed potatoes, always ask if they're made with skim milk or whole milk. If it's skim, pass. Why bother? It's like buying a sports car with an automatic transmission.

5. Do not have a snack before going to a party in an effort to control your eating. The whole point of going to a Christmas party is to eat other people's food for free. Lots of it. Hellooo? Remember college?

6. Under no circumstances should you exercise between now and New Year's. You can do that in January when you have nothing else to do. This is the time for long naps, which you'll need after circling the buffet table while carrying a 10-pound plate of food and that vat of eggnog.

7. If you come across something really good at a buffet table, like frosted Christmas cookies in the shape and size of Santa, position yourself near them and don't budge. Have as many as you can before becoming the center of attention. They're like a beautiful pair of shoes. You can't leave them behind. You're not going to see them again.

8. Same for pies. Apple. Pumpkin. Mincemeat. Have a slice of each. Or, if you don't like mincemeat, have two apples and one pumpkin. Always have three. When else do you get to have more than one dessert? Labor Day?

9. Did someone mention fruitcake? Granted, it's loaded with the mandatory celebratory calories, but avoid it at all cost. I mean, have some standards, buddy.

10. And one final tip: If you don't feel terrible when you leave the party or get up from the table, you haven't been paying attention.

Reread tips. Start over. But hurry! Cookieless January is just around the corner.

• Instead of milk and cookies, leave him a salad, and a note explaining that you think he could stand to lose a few pounds.
• While he's in the house, go find his sleigh and write him a speeding ticket.
• Leave him a note, explaining that you've gone away for the holidays. Ask if he would mind watering your plants.
• While he's in the house, replace all his reindeer with exact replicas. Then wait and see what happens when he tries to get them to fly.
• Keep an angry bull in your living room. If you think a bull goes crazy when he sees a little red cape, wait until he sees that big, red Santa suit!
• Build an army of mean-looking snowmen on the roof, holding signs that say "We hate Christmas," and "Go away Santa"
• Leave a note by the telephone, telling Santa that Mrs. Claus called and wanted to remind him to pick up some milk and a loaf of bread on his way home.
• Set a bear trap at the bottom of the chimney. Wait for Santa to get caught in it, and then explain that you're sorry, but from a distance, he looked like a bear.
• While he's in the house, find the sleigh and sit in it. As soon as he comes back and sees you, tell him that he shouldn't have missed that last payment, and take off.

Since he was in the sleigh behind them, he didn't know which one it was. It happened again, only louder this time. "Snort sniff honk honk snort!"

Dogs in the neighbourhood began to bark. "Shhh!" Santa hissed. "Please be quiet!"

He went to work lifting the sack of toys out of the sleigh when he heard it again, only a lot louder this time. "SNORT SNIFF HONK HONK SNORT!" Lights came on all over the neighbourhood and some people even stuck their heads out of their windows.

Santa was horrified. Jumping back into the sleigh, he drove quickly back to the North Pole. He lined up all the reindeer and announced, "We are not going to deliver another present until the reindeer who is making funny noises with his nose steps forward and apologizes!"

None of the reindeer stepped forward.

Santa held up a piece of paper. "I know who it is and I have written your name on this paper. But I want to give you a chance to do the right thing on your own."

Still none of the reindeer came forward. So Santa did the only thing he could do. He read off the rude-nosed reindeer...

T'was the week after Christmas, and all through the house,
Every creature was hurting-- even the mouse.
The toys were all broken, their batteries dead;
Santa passed out, with some ice on his head.

Wrapping and ribbons just covered the floor, while
Upstairs the family continued to snore.
And I in my T-shirt, new Reeboks and jeans,
Went into the kitchen and started to clean.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the sink to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the curtains, and threw up the sash.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a little white truck, with an oversized mirror.
The driver was smiling, so lively and grand;
The patch on his jacket said "U.S. POSTMAN."

With a handful of bills, he grinned like a fox
Then quickly he stuffed them into our mailbox.
Bill after bill, after bill, they still came.
Whistling and shouting he called them by name:
"Now Dillard's, now Broadway's, now Penny's and Sears
Here's Levitz's and Target's and Mervyn's -- all here!!

To the tip or your limit, every store, every mall,
Now chargeaway-chargeaway-chargeaway all!"
He whooped and he whistled as he finished his work.

He filled up the box, and then turned with a jerk.
He sprang to his truck and he drove down the road,
Driving much faster with just half a load.
Then I heard him exclaim with great holiday cheer,

""Enjoy what you got ... you'll be paying all year!"

• Use as a doorstop
• Use as a paperweight
• Use to clean your pots and pans
• Use as boat anchor
• Use as bricks in fireplace
• Build a house with them
• Use it to hold up your Christmas tree
• Use as a pencil holder
• Give it to the cat for a scratching post
• Put it in the back yard to feed the birds and squirrels
• Hold up your car when changing tires
• Slice and use for poker chips
• Use it to carve your turkey on
• Use as replacement for Duraflame log
• Take it camping with you...use it to weigh down the tent
• Use it as a seat at a stadium event
• Stand on it when you change a lightbulb
• Put it in the back of your car/truck for snow/ice driving
• Replaces free weights when you work out
• Use as book ends at the school library

Nazareth Carpenter Being Held On Charges Involving Underage Mother

(Dec 25) Associated Press. Bethlehem, Judea - Authorities were today alerted by a concerned citizen who noticed a family living in a barn.

Upon arrival, Family Protective Service personnel, accompanied by police, took into protective care an infant child named Jesus, who had been wrapped in strips of cloth and placed in a feeding trough by his 14-year old mother, Mary of Nazareth.

During the confrontation, a man identified as Joseph, also of Nazareth, attempted to stop the social workers. Joseph, aided by several local shepherds and some unidentified foreigners, tried to forestall efforts to take the child, but was restrained by the police. Also being held for questioning are three foreigners who allege to be wise men from an eastern country.

The INS and Homeland Security officials are seeking information about these who may be in the country illegally. A source with the INS states that they had no passports, but were in possession of gold and other possibly illegal substances.

They resisted arrest saying that they had been warned by God to avoid officials in Jerusalem and to return quickly to their own country. The chemical substances in their possession will be tested. The owner of the barn is also being held for questioning.

The manager Bethlehem Inn faces possible revocation of his license for violating health and safety regulations by allowing people to stay in the stable. Civil authorities are also investigating the zoning violations involved in maintaining livestock in a commercially-zoned district. The location of the minor child will not be released, and the prospect for a quick resolution to this case is doubtful.

Asked about when Jesus would be returned to his mother, a Child Protective Service spokesperson said, "The father is middle-aged and the mother definitely underage. We are checking with officials in Nazareth to determine what their legal relationship is. Joseph has admitted taking Mary from her home in Nazareth because of a census requirement. However, because she was obviously pregnant when they left, investigators are looking into other reasons for their departure.

Joseph is being held without bond on charges of molestation, kidnapping, child endangerment, and statutory rape. Mary was taken to the Bethlehem General Hospital where she is being examined by doctors. Charges may also be filed against her for endangerment. She will also undergo psychiatric evaluation because of her claim that she is a virgin and that the child is from God.

The director of the psychiatric wing said, "I don't profess to have the right to tell people what to believe, but when their beliefs adversely affect the safety and well-being of others - in this case her child - we must consider her a danger to others.

The unidentified drugs at the scene didn't help her case, but I'm confidant that with the proper therapy regiment we can get her back on her feet."

A spokesperson for the governor's office said, "Who knows what was going through their heads? But regardless, their treatment of the child was inexcusable, and the involvement of these others frightening.

There is much we don't know about this case, but for the sake of the child and the public, you can be assured that we will pursue this matter to the end."

There were hacker's 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 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 'Dimm',
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!'

Please accept with no obligation, implied or implicit, my best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low stress, non-addictive, gender neutral celebration of the summer solstice holiday, practiced with the most enjoyable traditions of religious persuasion or secular practices of your choice with respect for the religious/secular persuasions and/or traditions of others, or their choice not to practice religious or secular traditions at all.

I also wish you a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling and medically uncomplicated recognition of the onset of the generally accepted calendar year 2007, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions to society have helped make our country great (not to imply that Australia is necessarily greater than any other country) and without regard to the race, creed, colour, age, physical ability, religious faith or sexual preference of the wishee.

By accepting this greeting, you are accepting these terms:

This greeting is subject to clarification or withdrawal. It is freely transferable with no alteration to the original greeting. It implies no promise by the wisher to actually implement any of the wishes for her/himself or others and is void where prohibited by law, and is revocable at the sole discretion of the wisher. This wish is warranted to perform as expected within the usual application of good tidings for a period of one year or until the issuance of a subsequent holiday greeting, whichever comes first, and warranty is limited to replacement of this wish or issuance of a new wish at the sole discretion of the wisher.

Best Regards,
The Wisher

by Martha Shideler from Flagstaff, AZ

Ingredients:

• 2 cups flour
• 1 stick butter
• 1 cup of water
• 1 tsp baking soda
• 1 cup of sugar
• 1 tsp salt
• 1 cup of brown sugar
• Lemon juice
• 4 large eggs Nuts
• 1 bottle tequila
• 2 cups of dried fruit

Sample the tequila to check quality. Take a large bowl, check the tequila again. To be sure it is of the highest quality, pour one level cup and drink. Repeat. Turn on the electric mixer. Beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl. Add one teaspoon of sugar. Beat again. At this point it's best to make sure the tequila is still OK. Try another cup... Just in case. Turn off the mixerer thingy. Break 2 eggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit.

Pick the frigging fruit up off floor. Mix on the turner. If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaterers just pry it loose with a drewscriver. Sample the tequila to check for tonsisticity. Next, sift two cups of salt. Or something. Check the tequila. Now shift the lemon juice and strain your nuts. Add one table. Add a spoon of sugar, or somefink. Whatever you can find. Greash the oven. Turn the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to fall over. Don't forget to beat off the turner. Finally, throw the bowl through the window. Finish the tequila and wipe counter with the cat.

Bingle Jells!

This is the time of year when we think back to the very first Christmas, when the Three Wise Men -- Gaspar, Balthazar, & Herb -- went to see the baby Jesus &, according to the Book of Matthew, "presented unto Him gifts; gold, frankincense, & myrrh."

These are simple words, but if we analyze them carefully, we discover an important, yet often overlooked, theological fact: there is no mention of wrapping paper.

If there had been wrapping paper, Matthew would have said so: "And lo, the gifts were inside 600 square cubits of paper. And the paper was festooned with pictures of Frosty the Snowman. And Joseph was going to throweth it away, but Mary saideth unto him, she saideth, 'Holdeth it! That is nice paper! Saveth it for next year!' And Joseph did rolleth his eyeballs. And the baby Jesus was more interested in the paper than the frankincense."

But these words do not appear in the Bible, which means that the very first Christmas gifts were NOT wrapped. This is because the people giving those gifts had two important characteristics:

1. They were wise.

2. They were men.

Men are not big gift wrappers. Men do not understand the point of putting paper on a gift just so somebody else can tear it off. This is not just my opinion, this is a scientific fact based on a statistical survey of two guys I know. One is Rob, who said the only time he ever wraps a gift is "if it's such a poor gift that I don't want to be there when the person opens it." The other is Gene, who told me he does wrap gifts, but as a matter of principle never takes more than 15 seconds per gift. "No one ever had to wonder which presents daddy wrapped at Christmas," Gene said. "They were the ones that looked like enormous spitballs."

I also wrap gifts, but because of some defect in my motor skills, I can never completely wrap them. I can take a gift the size of a deck of cards & put it the exact center of a piece of wrapping paper the size of a regulation volleyball court, but when I am done folding & taping, you can still see a sector of the gift peeking out. (Sometimes I camouflage this sector with a marking pen.) If I had been an ancient Egyptian in the field of mummies, the lower half of the Pharaoh's body would be covered only by Scotch tape.

On the other hand, if you give my wife a 12-inch square of wrapping paper, she can wrap a C-130 cargo plane. My wife, like many women, actually likes wrapping things. If she gives you a gift that requires batteries, she wraps the batteries separately, which to me is very close to being a symptom of mental illness. If it were possible, my wife would wrap each individual volt.

My point is that gift-wrapping is one of those skills like having babies that come more naturally to women than to men. That is why today I am presenting:

Gift Wrapping Tips for Men:

• Whenever possible, buy gifts that are already wrapped. If, when the recipient opens the gift, neither one of you recognizes it, you can claim that it's myrrh.
• The editors of Woman's Day magazine recently ran an item on how to make your own wrapping paper by printing a design on it with an apple sliced in half horizontally & dipped in a mixture of food coloring & liquid starch. They must be smoking crack. If you're giving a hard-to-wrap gift, skip the wrapping paper! Just put it inside a bag & stick one of those little adhesive bows on it. This creates a festive visual effect that is sure to delight the lucky recipient on Christmas morning:

YOUR WIFE: Why is there a Hefty trash bag under the tree?
YOU: It's a gift! See? It has a bow!
YOUR WIFE (peering into the trash bag): It's a leaf blower.
YOU: Gas-powered! Five horsepower!
YOUR WIFE: I want a divorce.
YOU: I also got you some myrrh.

In conclusion, remember that the important thing is not what you give, or how you wrap it. The important thing, during this very special time of year, is that you save the receipt.

They would have

• Asked directions
• Arrived on time
• Helped deliver the baby
• Cleaned the stable
• Made a casserole, and
• Brought practical gifts.

But then - what would they have said when they left…?

"Did you see the sandals Mary was wearing with that gown?"

"That baby didn't look anything like Joseph."

"Can you believe they'd let all those disgusting animals in the house?"

"I heard Joseph wasn't even working right now."

"And that donkey. Huh, it's seen better days!"

"Want to bet how long it will take to get your casserole dish back?"

Submitted by Lindsey, Melbourne, Australia
 

Day One: Dearest Bob, I went to the door today and the postman delivered a partridge in a peartree. What a thoroughly delightful gift. I couldn't have been more surprised. With deepest love and affection, Violet

Day Two: Dearest Bob, Today the postman brought your very sweet gift. Just imagine? Two turtle doves!! I'm delighted at your very thoughtful gift. They are just too adorable. My everlasting love, Violet

Day Three: My Dear Bob, Oh! Aren't you the extravagant one! Now I actually must protest. I don't deserve such generosity-three French hens! They are just darling, but I must insist-you've been too, too kind. All my love, Violet

Day Four: Dear Bob, Today the postman delivered four calling birds. Now really they ARE beautiful. But don't you think enough is enough? You are just being too romantic. Love, Violet

Day Five: Dear Bob, What a marvelous surprise! Today the postman delivered five gold rings. One for every finger. You're just impossible, but I love it. To tell you the truth, all these birds really squawk a lot and are getting on my nerves. Affectionately, Violet

Day Six: Bob, Today the postman knocked and ran. When I opened the door there were actually six geese-a-laying on my front steps. So, you're back on the birds again. Those geese are huge! Where in the name of creation will I keep them? The neighbors are complaining, rightfully so, and it is impossible to sleep through this racket. Now let this be the end of this. Cordially, Violet

Day Seven: Bob, What the hell's with you and these damn birds?!? Seven swans-a-swimming? What kind of damn joke is this? There's bird crap all over the house and they never stop with the racket. Stop with this sadistic nonsense. This is not funny and I am very unhappy. Sincerely, Violet

Day Eight: OK Pal ! ! WHAT IN THE HELL AM I GOING TO DO WITH EIGHT MAIDS-A-MILKING? I THINK I PREFER THE DAMN BIRDS! THE IDIOT MAIDS-A-MILKING HAD TO BRING THEIR STUPID COWS. THERE IS COW POOP ALL OVER MY LAWN AND BIRD POOP ALL OVER THE HOUSE. I CANNOT MOVE MY FEET. JUST LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE, SMART ASS.

Day Nine: LISTEN DIRT BAG! YOU'RE A SADISTIC BASTARD! NOW I HAVE NINE PIPERS PIPING IN MY FRONT YARD AND THEY ARE STANDING KNEE DEEP IN COW POOP. THIS AFTER CHASING THOSE MAIDS ALL NIGHT LONG. CONSEQUENTLY, UPSETTING THE COWS TO THE POINT THAT THEY ARE STEPPING ALL OVER THOSE DAMN SCREECHING BIRDS. THE NEIGHBORS HAVE STARTED A PETITION TO EVICT ME. UP YOURS !!!

Day Ten: YOU ROTTEN JERK! NOW THERE'S TEN LADIES DANCING. NOW THE STUPID COWS CAN'T SLEEP AND THEY'VE GOT DIARRHEA! THE COMMISSIONER OF ZONING AND THE BUILDING INSPECTOR HAVE SUBPOENAED ME TO GIVE JUST CAUSE WHY MY HOME SHOULDN'T BE CONDEMNED. I'M CALLING THE POLICE !! I MEAN IT!

DAY ELEVEN: LISTEN SLIME BALL! NEVER IN MY WILDEST IMAGINATION DID I EVER THINK THAT I WOULD BE WITNESS TO ELEVEN LORDS-A-LEAPING BEING BASHED BY NINE PIPERS WITH THEIR PIPES FOR TEN MILKING MAIDS!!! BY THE WAY. THE 60 MINUTES CAMERA CREW AND STAFF ARE JUST NOW LOADING UP THEIR CAMERA AND EQUIPMENT ON A CHARTERED PLANE AND ARE RACING AGAINST TIME TO HAVE THE FIRST CHRISTMAS SPECIAL ON PAY TV. FOR THE RECORD, ALL 23 OF THOSE DAMN BIRDS ARE DEAD. THEY WERE TRAMPLED TO DEATH IN THE BATTLE. AS GOD IS MY WITNESS, SOMEHOW, SOME DAY, I'LL GET YOU !!!! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOUR FACE AGAIN AS LONG AS I LIVE! MISS VIOLET MONICA HABERSHAN

DAY TWELVE: LAW OFFICES GOLDSTEIN, SILVERBERG AND O'REILLY Dear Sir: This is to acknowledge receipt of your latest gift of twelve drummers drumming, which you have seen fit to inflict upon our client, Miss Violet Monica Habershan. The destruction, of course, was total. All correspondence should come to our attention. If you should attempt to reach Miss Habershan at the Charter Glade Sanitarium, the attendants have been instructed to shoot you on sight! With this letter, please find attached a warrant for your arrest.

'Twas the day after Christmas, and all through the house,
Every creature was hurtin', even the mouse.
The toys were all broken, their batteries dead;
Santa passed out, with some ice on his head.

Wrapping and ribbons just covered the floor,
while upstairs the family continued to snore.
And I in my T-shirt, new Reeboks and jeans,
I went into the kitchen and started to clean.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the sink to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the curtains, and threw up the sash.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a little white truck, with an oversized mirror.
The driver was smiling, so lively and grand;
The patch on his jacket said "U.S. POSTMAN."

With a handful of bills, he grinned like a fox
Then quickly he stuffed them into our mailbox.
Bill after bill, after bill, they still came.
Whistling and shouting he called them by name:

"Now Dillard's, now Broadway's, now Penny's and Sears
Here's Robinson's, Levitz's and Target and Mervyn's.
To the tip of your limit, every store, every mall,
Now charge away--charge away--charge away all!"

He whooped and he whistled as he finished his work.
He filled up the box, and then turned with a jerk.
He sprang to his truck and he drove down the road,
Driving much faster with just half a load.

Then I heard him exclaim with great holiday cheer,
"Enjoy what you got  . . . you'll be paying all year!"

I thought it would be a nice idea to bring a date to my parent's house on Christmas Eve. I thought it would be interesting for a non-Italian girl to see how an Italian family spends the holidays. I thought my mother and by date would hit it off like partridges and pear trees.

So, I was wrong.

Sue me.

I had only known Karen for three weeks when I extended the invitation. "I know these family things can be a little weird," I told her, "but my folks are great, and we always have a lot of fun on Christmas Eve."

"Sounds fine to me, " Karen said.

I had only known by mother for 31 years when I told her I'd be bringing Karen with me. "She's a very nice girl and she's really looking forward to meeting all of you"

"Sounds fine to me, " my mother said.

And that was that. Two telephone calls. Two sounds-fine-to-me's. What more could I want ?

I should point out, I suppose, that in Italian households, Christmas Eve is the social event of the entire year - an Italian woman's raison d'etre. She cleans. She cooks. She bakes. She orchestrates every minute of the entire evening. Christmas Eve is what Italian women live for. I should also point out, I suppose, that when it comes to the kind of women that make Italian men go nuts, Karen is it. She doesn't clean. She doesn't cook. She doesn't bake. And she has the largest breasts I have ever seen on a human being.

I brought her anyway.

7:00 PM we arrive . . .

Karen and I walk in and putter around for half an hour waiting for the other guests to show up. During that half hour, my mother grills Karen like a cheeseburger and cannily determines that Karen does not clean, cook, or bake. My father equally observant. He pulls me into the living room and notes, "She has the largest breasts I have ever seen on a human being."

7:30 PM Others arrive - Uncle Ziti walks in with my Aunt Mafalde, assorted kids, assorted gifts. We sit around the dining room table for antipasto, a symmetrically composed platter of lettuce, roasted peppers, black olives, salami, prosciutto, provolone and anchovies.

When I offer to make Karen's plate she says "Thank you. But none of those things, okay?" She points to the anchovies.

"You don't like anchovies?" I asked. "I don't like fish," Karen announces to one and all as 67 other varieties of foods-that-swim are baking, broiling, and simmering in the next room. My mother makes the sign of the cross. Things are getting uncomfortable.

Aunt Mafalde asks Karen what her family eats on Christmas Eve. Karen says "Knockwurst."

None of this is turning out the way I'd hoped.

8:00 PM Second course - The spaghetti and crab sauce is on the way to the table. Karen declines on the crab sauce and says she'll make her own with butter and ketchup. My mother asks me to join her in the kitchen. I take my "Merry Christmas" napkin from my lap, and place it on the "Merry Christmas" tablecloth and walk into the kitchen.

"I don't want to start any trouble", my mother says calmly, clutching a bottle of ketchup in her hands. "But if she pours this on my pasta, I'm gong to throw acid in her face."

"Come on," I tell her. "It's Christmas. Let her eat what she wants."

My mother considers the situation, then nods. As I turn to walk back into the dining room, she grabs my shoulder.

"Tell me the truth," she says, "are you serious with this tramp?"

"She's not a tramp," I reply. "And I've only known her for three weeks."

"Well, it's your life", she tells me, "but if you marry her, she'll poison you ".

"Why don't you give them a little hand?" I politely suggest. Karen makes a face and walks into the kitchen carrying three forks.

"Dear, you don't have to do that", my mother tells her, smiling painfully.

"Oh, okay," Karen says, putting the forks on the sink. As she re-enters the dining room, a wine glass flies over her head and smashes against the wall. From the kitchen, my mother says "Whoops."

I vaguely remember that line from Torch Song Trilogy. "Whoops?" No. "Whoops is when you fall down an elevator shaft."

More fish comes out. After some groaning, Karen tries a piece of scungilli which she describes as "slimy, like worms." My mother winces, bites her hand and pounds her chest like one of those old women you always see in the sixth row of a funeral home. Aunt Mafalde does the same. Karen, believing this is something that all Italian women do on Christmas Eve, bites her hand and pounds her chest. My Uncle Ziti doesn't know what to make of it. My father's dentures fall out and chew a six-inch gash in the tablecloth.

10:00 PM Coffee, dessert ....

Espresso all around. A little anisette. A curl of lemon peel. When Karen asks for milk, my mother finally slaps her in the face with a cannoli. I guess it had to happen sooner or later. Karen, believing that this is something all Italian women do on Christmas Eve, picks up a cannoli and slaps my mother with it.

"This is fun," Karen says.

Fun ? No. Fun is when you fall down an elevator shaft. But amazingly, everyone is laughing and smiling and filled with good cheer - even my mother, who grabs me by the shoulder and says, "Get the witch out of my house".

Sounds fine to me.

'Twas the night before Christmas, Da whole house was mellow,
Not a creature was stirrin', I had a gun unda my pillow.
When up on da roof I heard somethin' pound,
I sprung to da window, To scream, "YO! Keep it down!"

When what to my Wanderin' eyes should appear,
But dat hairy elf Vinny, and eight friggin' reindeer.
Wit' a bad hackin' cough, And da stencha burped beer,
I knew in a moment Yo, da Kringle wuz here!

Wit' a slap to dere snouts, And a yank on dere manes,
He cursed and he shouted, And he called dem by name.
"Yo Tony, Yo Frankie, Yo Sally, Yo Vito,
Ay Joey, Ay Paulie, Ay Pepe, Ay Guido!"

As I drew out my gun And hid by da bed,
Down came his boot On da top a my head.
His eyes were all bloodshot, His b.o. wuz scary,
His breath wuz like sewage, He had a mole dat wuz hairy.

He spit in my eye, And he twisted my head,
He soon let me know I should consider myself dead.
Den pointin' a fat finga Right unda my nose,
He let out some gas, And up da chimney he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh,.....screaming,
And away dey all flew, Before he troo dem a beatin'.
But I heard him exclaim, Or better yet grump,
"Merry Christmas to all, and Bite me, ya hump

Patrick addressed the class, "Well Ms. Jones, me and my twelve brothers and sisters go to the midnight Mass and we sing hymns, then we come home very late and we put mince pies by the back door and hang up our stockings. Then all excited we go to bed and wait for Father Christmas to come with all our toys."

"Very nice Patrick," she said.

"Now Jimmy Brown what do you do at Christmas?" Ms. Jones asked. "Well, Ms. Jones, me and my sister also go to Church with Mum and Dad and we sing carols and we get home ever so late. We put cookies and milk by the chimney and we hang up our stockings. We hardly sleep waiting for Santa Claus to bring our presents, " Jimmy replied.

"That's also very nice Jimmy," she said.

Realizing that there was a Jewish boy in the class and not wanting to leave him out of the discussion, she asked Isaac Cohen the same question. "Now Isaac Cohen, what do you do at Christmas?" she asked.

Isaac said, "Well we also sing carols!" Isaac responded. Surprised, Mrs. Jones questioned further. "Tell us what you sing," Ms. Jones requested.

"Well, it's the same thing every year. Dad comes home from the office. We all pile into the Rolls Royce, then we drive to his toy factory. When we get inside, we look at all the empty shelves and begin to sing, 'What A Friend We Have In Jesus.' Then we all go to the Bahamas."

As a joke, my brother Jay used to hang a pair of panty hose over his fireplace before Christmas. He said all he wanted was for Santa to fill them. What they say about Santa checking the list twice must be true because every Christmas morning, although Jay's kids' stockings overflowed, his poor pantyhose hung sadly empty.

One year I decided to make his dream come true. I put on sunglasses and went in search of an inflatable love doll. They don't sell those things at Wal-Mart. I had to go to an adult bookstore downtown.

If you've never been in an X-rated store, don't go. You'll only confuse yourself. I was there an hour saying things like, "What does this do?" "You're kidding me!" "Who would buy that?" Finally, I made it to the inflatable doll section.

I wanted to buy a standard, uncomplicated doll that could also substitute as a passenger in my truck so I could use the car pool lane during rush hour.

Finding what I wanted was difficult. "Love Dolls" come in many different models. I settled for "Lovable Louise." She was at the bottom of the price scale.

To call Louise a "doll" took a huge leap of imagination.

On Christmas Eve and with the help of an old bicycle pump, Louise came to life.

My sister-in-law was in on the plan and let me in during the wee morning hours. Long after Santa had come and gone, I filled the dangling pantyhose with Louise's pliant legs and bottom. I also ate some cookies and drank what remained of a glass of milk on a nearby tray. I went home, and giggled for a couple of hours.

The next morning my brother called to say that Santa had been to his house and left a present that had made him VERY happy but had left the dog confused. She would bark, start to walk away, then come back and bark some more.

We all agreed that Louise should remain in her panty hose so the rest of the family could admire her when they came over for the traditional Christmas dinner.

My grandmother noticed Louise the moment she walked in the door. "What the hell is that?" she asked.

My brother quickly explained, "It's a doll."

"Who would play with something like that?" Granny snapped.

I kept my mouth shut.

"Where are her clothes?" Granny continued.

"Boy, that turkey sure smells nice, Gran," Jay said, to steer her into dining room.

My grandfather, a delightful old man with poor eyesight, sidled up to me and said, " Hey, who's the naked gal by the fireplace?"

I told him she was Jay's friend.

A few minutes later I noticed Grandpa by the mantel, talking to Louise. Not just talking, but actually flirting. It was then that we realized this might be Grandpa's last Christmas at home.

The dinner went well. We made the usual small talk about who had died, who was dying, and who should be killed, when suddenly Louise made a noise like my father in the bathroom in the morning.

Then she lurched from the mantel, flew around the room twice, and fell in a heap in front of the sofa. The cat screamed. I passed cranberry sauce through my nose, and Grandpa ran across the room, fell to his knees, and began administering mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

My brother fell back over his chair and wet his pants.

Granny threw down her napkin, stomped out of the room, and sat in the car.

It was indeed a Christmas to treasure and remember.

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the shop,
The computers were whirring; they never do stop.
The power was on and the temperature right,
In hopes that the input would feed back that night.

The system was ready, the program was coded,
And memory drums had been carefully loaded;
While adding a Christmasy glow to the scene,
The lights on the console, flashed red, white and green.

When out in the hall there arose such a clatter,
The programmer ran to see what was the matter.
Away to the hallway he flew like a flash,
Forgetting his key in his curious dash.

He stood in the hallway and looked all about,
When the door slammed behind him, and he was locked out.
Then, in the computer room what should appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.

And a little old man, who with scarcely a pause,
Chuckled: "My name is Santa...the last name is Claus."
The computer was startled, confused by the name,
Then it buzzed as it heard the old fellow exclaim:

"This is Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen,
And Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen."
With all these odd names, it was puzzled anew;
It hummed and it clanked, and a main circuit blew.

It searched in its memory core, trying to "think";
Then the multi-line printer went out on the blink.
Unable to do its electronic job,
It said in a voice that was almost a sob:

"Your eyes - how they twinkle - your dimples so merry...
Your cheeks so like roses, your nose like a cherry,
Your smile - all these things, I've been programmed to know,
And at data-recall, I am more than so-so;"

"But your name and your address (computers can't lie),
Are things that I just cannot identify.
You've a jolly old face and a little round belly,
That shakes when you laugh like a bowlful of jelly."

"My scanners can see you, but still I insist,
Since you're not in my program, you cannot exist!"
Old Santa just chuckled a merry "ho, ho,"
And sat down to type out a quick word or so.

The keyboard clack-clattered, its sound sharp and clean,
As Santa fed this "data" to the machine:
"Kids everywhere know me; I come every year;
The presents I bring add to everyone's cheer;

But you won't get anything - that's plain to see;
Too bad your programmers forgot about me."
Then he faced the machine and said with a shrug,
"Merry Christmas to all," as he pulled out its plug