‘Twas the month after Christmas, and all through the house
Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.
The cookies I’d nibbled, the eggnog I’d taste
All the holiday parties had gone to my waist.
When I got on the scales there arose such a number!
When I walked to the store (less a walk than a lumber).

I’d remember the marvelous meals I’d prepared;
The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rared,
The wine and the rum balls, the bread and the cheese
And the way I’d never said, “No thank you, please.”
As I dressed myself in my husband’s old shirt
And prepared once again to do battle with dirt–
I said to myself, as I only can
“You can’t spend a winter disguised as a man!”

So, away with the last of the sour cream dip,
Get rid of the fruit cake, every cracker and chip
Every last bit of food that I like must be banished
‘Till all the additional ounces have vanished.
I won’t have a cookie, not even a lick.
I’ll want only to chew on a long celery stick.

I won’t have hot biscuits, or corn bread, or pie,
I’ll munch on a carrot and quietly cry.
I’m hungry, I’m lonesome, and life is a bore—
But isn’t that what January is for?
Unable to giggle, no longer a riot.
Happy New Year to all and to all a good diet!

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‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the abode
only one creature was stirring, and she was cleaning the commode.
The children were finally sleeping, all snug in their beds,
while visions of Nintendo 64 and Barbie flipped through their heads.
The dad was snoring in front of the TV,
with a half-constructed bicycle perched on his knee.

So only the mom heard the reindeer hooves clatter,
which made her sigh, “Now what’s the matter?”
With toilet bowl brush still clutched in her hand,
she descended the stairs, and saw the old man.
He was covered with soot, which fell with a shrug.
“Oh great,” muttered the mom, “Now I have to clean the rug.”

“Ho-ho-ho!” cried Santa, “I’m glad you’re awake.
Your gift was especially difficult to make.”
“Thanks, Santa, but all I want is some time alone.”
“Exactly!” he chuckled, “I’ve made you a clone.”
“A clone?” she asked, “What good is that?
Run along, Santa, I’ve no time for chit-chat.”

“This is your twin–Same hair, same eyes,
same double chin. She’ll cook, she’ll dust,
she’ll mop every mess. You’ll relax, take it easy,
watch ‘The Young & the Restless.’”
“Fantastic!” the mom cheered.
“My dream come true! I’ll shop. I’ll read.
I’ll sleep a whole night through! ”

From the room above, the youngest began to fret.
“Mommy?! I’m scared…and I’m wet.”
The clone replied, “I’m coming, sweetheart.”
“Hey,” the mom smiled, “She knows her part.”
The clone changed the small one, and hummed a tune,
as she bundled the child, in a blanket cocoon.
“You’re the best mommy ever. I really love you.”
The clone smiled and sighed, “I love you, too.”

The mom frowned and said, “Sorry, Santa, no deal.
That’s my child’s love, she’s trying to steal.”
Smiling wisely Santa said, “To me it is clear,
Only one loving mother is needed here.”
The mom kissed her child, and tucked her into bed.
“Thank you, Santa, for clearing my head.
I sometimes forget, it won’t be very long,
when they’ll be too old, for my cradle-song.”

The clock on the mantle began to chime.
Santa whispered to the clone, “It works every time.”
With the clone by his side Santa said, “Goodnight.
Merry Christmas, Mom, You’ll be all right.”

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‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the nets
Not a mousie was stirring, not even the pets.
The floppies were stacked by the modem with care
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

The files were nestled all snug in a folder
The screen saver turned on, the weather was colder.
And leaving the keyboard along with my mouse
I turned from the screen to the rest of the house.

When up from the drive there arose such a clatter
I turned to the screen to see what was the matter.
Away to the mouse I flew like a flash,
Zoomed open a window in fear of a crash…

The glow from the screen on the keyboard below
Gave an electronic luster to all my macros.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear
But a little sleigh icon with eight tiny reindeer

And a tiny disk driver so SCSI and quick
I knew in a nano it must be Saint Nick.
More rapid than trackballs his cursors they came,
He whistled and shouted and faxed them by name.

“Now Flasher! Now Dasher! Now Raster and Bixel!
On Phosphor! On Photon! On Baudrate and Pixel!
To the top of the stack. To the top of the heap.”
Then each little reindeer made a soft beep.

As data that before the wild electrons fly,
When they meet with a node, mount to the drive,
So up to the screentop the cursors they flew
With a sleigh full of disks and databits, too.

And then in a twinkling I heard the high whine
Of a modem connecting at a baud rate so fine.
As I gazed at the screen with a puzzling frown
St. Nicholas logged on though I thought I was down.

He was dressed all in bytes from header to footer
And the words on the screen said “Don’t you reboot ‘er.”
A bundle of bits he had flung on his back
And he looked like a programmer starting his hack.

His eyes how they glazed, his hair was so scary,
His cola was jolt, not flavored with cherry.
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a GIF
And the pixels of his beard sure gave me a lift.

The stump of a routine he held tight in his code
And I knew he had made it past the last node.
He spoke not a word but looked right at me
And I saw in a flash his file was .SEA.

He self-decompressed and I watched him unfold,
Into a jolly old elf, a sight to behold.
And the whispering sound of my hard drive’s head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He went straight to his work without saying a word
And filled all the folders of this happy nerd.
And ’tis the whole truth, as the story is told,
That giving a nod up the window he scrolled,

He sprang to the serial port as if truly on fire
And away they all flew down the thin copper wire.
But I heard him exclaim as he scrolled out of sight
“Happy Christmas to All, and to all a good night.”

Author: Unknown

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‘Twas the night before Christmas and Santa’s a wreck
How to live in a world that’s politically correct?

His workers no longer would answer to Elves,
Vertically challenged they were calling themselves.
And labor conditions at the North Pole
Were alleged by the union to stifle the soul.

Four reindeer had vanished, without much propriety
Released to the wilds by the Humane Society
And equal employment had made it quite clear
That Santa had better not use just reindeer
So Dancer and Donner, Comet and Cupid
Were replaced with 4 pigs, and you know that looked stupid!

The runners had been removed from his sleigh;
The ruts were termed dangerous by the E P A
And people had started to call for the cops
When they heard sled noises on their roof-tops
Second-hand smoke from his pipe had his workers quite frightened
His fur trimmed red suit was called “Unenlightened”

And to show you the strangeness of life’s ebbs and flows
Rudolf was suing over unauthorised use of his nose
And had gone on Geraldo, in front of the nation
Demanding millions in over-due compensation

So, half of the reindeer were gone; and his wife
Who suddenly said she’d enough of this life
Joined a self-help group, packed, and left in a whiz
Demanding from now on her title was Ms

And as for the gifts, why, he’d ne’er had a notion
That making a choice could cause so much commotion
Nothing of leather, nothing of fur
Which meant nothing for him. And nothing for her
Nothing that might be construed to pollute
Nothing to aim. Nothing to shoot

Nothing that clamoured or made lots of noise
Nothing for just girls. Or just for boys
Nothing that claimed to be gender specific
Nothing that’s warlike or non-pacific
No candy or sweets … they were bad for the tooth
Nothing that seemed to embellish the truth

And fairy tales, while not yet forbidden
Were like Ken and Barbie, better off hidden
For they raised the hackles of those psychological
Who claimed the only good gift was ecological
No baseball, no football … someone could get hurt;
Besides; playing sports exposed kids to dirt

Dolls were said to be sexist, and should be passe;
And Nintendo would rot your entire brain away
So Santa just stood there, dishevelled, perplexed;
He just could not figure out what to do next
He tried to be merry, tried to be gay
But you’ve got to be careful with that word today

His sack was quite empty, limp to the ground;
Nothing fully acceptable was to be found
Something special was needed, a gift that he might
Give to all without angering the left or the right
A gift that would satisfy, with no indecision
Each group of people, every religion;

Every ethnicity, every hue
Everyone, everywhere … even you
So here is that gift, it’s price beyond worth …
“May you and your loved ones enjoy peace on earth”

Christmas Collection

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I. Though we, the “Greetor,” wish you well In our Holiday Entreaty,
We limit all your claims, Dear Friend (Herinafter called the “Greetee”).

II. We wish you dreams of Sugar Plums And dancing Christmas Lights,
But if these Fancies come to Naught You have no Vested Rights.

III. In no case shall we be at fault In Implied Claims of Fitness,
And all Writs of Depression must Be Sworn before a Witness.

IV. Although our Approbations Are Warranted full free
Of Defects in Sincerity There is no Guaranty.

V. Whenever there’s a Conflict These, our Contract Terms, will rule;
The “Greetee” then is on his own To have a Happy Yule.

VI. We hope that You, Your Kith and Kin Find Christmas Viability;
But if You don’t, note now that We Decline all Liability.

VII. So if you don’t hear Sleigh Bells ring, Or smell the fresh cut Pines,
You have, “Greetee,” Released our Firm, Successors, and Assigns.

VIII. And if Our Heartfelt Christmas Wish By Counter Claim is marred,
We may, at our Sole Option, Repossess this Christmas Card.

(C) Edward C. McManus (written in 1975 for Datamation Magazine)
Visit his blog at theJokeSmith.Wordpress.com

Christmas Collection

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