December 14, 2004
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December 13, 2004
=================================================
My Christmas Story
Late last week, I was rushing around trying to get some last minute shopping
done. I was stressed out and not thinking very fondly of the Christmas
season right then. It was dark, cold, and wet in the parking lot as I was
loading my car up with gifts that I felt obligated to buy. I noticed that I
was missing a receipt that I might need later. So mumbling under my breath,
I retraced my steps to the mall entrance.
As I was searching the wet pavement for the lost receipt, I heard a quiet
sobbing. The crying was coming from a poorly dressed boy of about 12 years
old. He was short and thin. He had no coat. He was just wearing a ragged
flannel shirt to protect him from the cold night's chill. Oddly enough, he
was holding a hundred dollar bill in his hand. Thinking that he had gotten
lost from his parents, I asked him what was wrong.
He told me his sad story. He said that he came from a large family. He had
three brothers and two sisters. His father had died when he was nine years
old. His mother was poorly educated and worked two full time jobs. She made
very little to support her large family. Nevertheless, she had managed to
save two hundred dollars to buy her children Christmas presents. The young
boy had been dropped off on the way to her second job. He was to use the
money to buy presents for all his siblings and save just enough to take
the bus home.
He had not even entered the mall, when an older boy grabbed one of the
hundred dollar bills and disappeared into the night.
"Why didn't you scream for help?" I asked. The boy said, "I did." "And
nobody came to help you?" I wondered. The boy stared at the sidewalk and
sadly shook his head. "How loud did you scream?" I inquired. The soft-spoken
boy looked up and meekly whispered, "Help me!"
I realized that absolutely no one could have heard that poor boy cry
forhelp.
So, I grabbed his other hundred and ran to my car.
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=================================
No holiday season would be complete without swatting the smug grin off of Martha Stewart's face. I give you the following:
When you read or listen to Martha Stewart's hints and advice, do you think to yourself "I could do that"? Then, you follow that thought with "What is wrong with me? Am I just a waste of good air?"
If this is you, then read on ...
MARTHA STEWART'S HOLIDAY CALENDAR
December 1
Blanch carcass from Thanksgiving turkey. Spray paint gold, turnupside
down and use as a sleigh to hold Christmas Cards.December 2
Have Mormon Tabernacle Choir record outgoing Christmas message for
answering machine.December 3
Using candlewick and handgilded miniature pine cones, fashion
cat-o-nine tails. Flog Gardener.December 4
Repaint Sistine Chapel ceiling in ecru, with mocha trim.December 5
Get new eyeglasses. Grind lenses myself.December 6
Fax family Christmas newsletter to Pulitzer committee for
consideration.December 7
Debug Windows '98December 8
Decorate homegrown Christmas tree with scented candles handmade with
beeswax from my backyard bee colony.December 9
Record own Christmas album complete with 4 part harmony and all instrument
accompaniment performed by myself. Mail to all my friends and loved
ones.December 10
Align carpets to adjust for curvature of Earth.December 11
Lay Faberge egg.December 12
Erect ice skating rink in front yard using spring water I bottled
myself.Open for neighborhood children's use. Create festive mood by
handmaking snow and playing my Christmas album.December 13
Collect Dentures. They make excellent pastry cutters, particularly
for decorative pie crusts.December 14
Install plumbing in gingerbread house.December 15
Replace air in mini-van tires with Glade "holiday scents" in case
tires are shot out at mall.December 17
Child proof the Christmas tree with garland of razor wire.December 19
Adjust legs of chairs so each Christmas dinner guest will be same
height when sitting at his or her assigned seat.December 20
Dip sheep and cows in egg whites and roll in confectioner's sugar to
add a festive sparkle to the pasture.December 21
Drain city reservoir; refill with mulled cider, orange slices and
cinnamon sticks.December 22
Float votive candles in toilet tank.December 23
Seed clouds for white Christmas.December 24
Do my annual good deed. Go to several stores. Be seen engaged in last
minute Christmas shopping, thus making many people feel less
inadequate than they really are.December 25
Bear son. Swaddle. Lay in color-coordinated manger scented with
homemade potpourri.December 26
Organize spice racks by genus and phylum.December 27
Build snowman in exact likeness of God.December 28
Take Dog apart. Disinfect. Reassemble.December 29
Hand sew 365 quilts, each using 365 material squares I weaved myself
used to represent the 365 days of the year. Donate to local
orphanages.December 30
Release flock of white doves, each individually decorated with olive
branches, to signify desire of world peace.December 31
New Year's Eve! Give staff their resolutions. Call a friend in each
time zone of the world as the clock strikes midnight in that country.
==================================================
And a special letter to Santa. It's so good that I wish I had written it.
Dear Santa,
I rarely ask for much. This year is no exception. I don't need diamond earrings, handy slicer-dicers or comfy slippers. I only want one little thing, and I want it deeply. I want to slap Martha Stewart.
Now, hear me out, Santa. I won't scar her or draw blood or anything. Just one good smack, right across her smug little cheek. I get all cozy inside just thinking about it. Don't grant this wish just for me, do it for thousands of women across the country. Through sheer vicarious satisfaction, you'll be giving a gift to us all. Those of us leading average, garden variety lives aren't concerned with gracious living. We feel pretty good about ourselves if our paper plates match when we stack them on the counter, buffet-style for dinner. We're tired of Martha showing us how to make centerpieces from hollyhock dipped in 18 carat gold. We're plumb out of liquid gold. Unless it's of the furniture polish variety. We can't whip up Martha's creamy holiday sauce, spiced with turmeric. Most of us can't even say turmeric, let alone figure out what to do with it.
OK, Santa, maybe you think I'm being a little harsh. But I'll bet with all the holiday rush you didn't catch that interview with Martha in last week's USA Weekend. I'm surprised there was enough room on the page for her ego.
We discovered that not only does Martha avoid take-out pizza (she's only ordered it once), she refuses to eat it cold (No cold pizza? Is Martha Stewart Living?) When it was pointed out that she could microwave it, she replied, "I don't have a microwave." The reporter, Jeffrey Zaslow, noted that she said this "in a tone that suggests you shouldn't either."
Well lah-dee-dah. Imagine that, Santa!
That lovely microwave you brought me years ago, in which I've learned to make complicated dishes like popcorn and hot chocolate, has been declared undesirable by Queen Martha. What next? The coffee maker?
In the article, we learned that Martha has 40 sets of dishes adorning an entire wall in her home. Forty sets. Can you spell "overkill"? And neatly put away, no less. If my dishes make it to the dishwasher, that qualifies as "put away" in my house!
Martha tells us she's already making homemade holiday gifts for friends. "Last year, I made amazing silk-lined scarves for everyone," she boasts. Not just scarves, mind you. Amazing scarves. Martha's obviously not shy about giving herself a little pat on the back. In fact, she does so with such frequency that one has to wonder if her back is black and blue.
She goes on to tell us that "homemaking is glamour for the 90s," and says her most glamorous friends are "interested in stain removal, how to iron a monogram, and how to fold a towel." I have one piece of advice, Martha: "Get new friends." Glamorous friends fly to Paris on a whim. They drift past the Greek Islands on yachts, sipping champagne from crystal goblets. They step out for the evening in shimmering satin gowns, whisked away by tuxedoed chauffeurs. They do not spend their days pondering the finer art of toilet bowl sanitation.
Zaslow notes that Martha was named one of America's 25 most influential people by Time magazine (nosing out Mother Theresa, Madeline Allbright and Maya Angelou, no doubt).
The proof of Martha's influence: after she bought white-fleshed peaches in the supermarket, Martha says, "People saw me buy them. In an instant, they were all gone." I hope Martha never decides to jump off a bridge!
A guest in Martha's home told Zaslow how Martha gets up early to rollerblade with her dogs to pick fresh wild blackberries for breakfast. This confirms what I've suspected about Martha all along: She's obviously got too much time on her hands. Teaching the dogs to rollerblade. What a show off.
If you think the dogs are spoiled, listen to how Martha treats her friends: She gave one friend all 272 books from the Knopf Everyman Library. It didn't cost much. Pocket change, really. Just $5,000. But what price friendship, right? When asked if others should envy her, Martha replies, "Don't envy me. I'm doing this because I'm a natural teacher. You shouldn't envy teachers. You should listen to them." Zaslow must have slit a seam in Martha's ego at this point, because once the hot air came hissing out, it couldn't be held back. "Being an overachiever is nothing despicable. It is only admirable. Never lower your standards," says Martha. And of her Web Page on the Internet, Martha declares herself an "important presence" as she graciously helps people organize their sad, tacky little lives.
There you have it, Santa. If there was ever someone who deserved a good smack, it's Martha Stewart. But I bet I won't get my gift this year. You probably want to smack her yourself.
Sincerely,
A Hopeful "Child"
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Donations can be made at ANY Vystar Credit Union to Juliana Wetmore at member number 2102465.Direct donations can be sent to:
Juliana Wetmore
3018 Hickory Glenn Dr.
Orange Park, FL 32065
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December 10, 2004
=========================
.jpg)
Update
: This OTB post has nothing in common with the twisted images above. I'm just hoping that some of James' readers will stop by. Huzzah for the Beltway Traffic Jam!
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On the Twelfth Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...
Twelve Drummers Drumming
.-} .-} .-}
|_| |_| |_|
(_) (_) __ (_) .---.
| \ .--. | \.' '. | \/ \
|\_|--o ) |\_|--o ; |\_|--o |
|
'--' |
'.__.' |
\ />
|
|
|
`---`
|
_ |
_ |
_
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
.-. .-. .-. .-. .-. .-. .-. .-. .-.
|M| |E| |R| |R| |Y| |X| |M| |A| |S|
(_) (_) (_) (_) (_) (_) (_) (_) (_)
/\Y/\ /\Y/\ /\Y/\ /\Y/\ /\Y/\ /\Y/\ /\Y/\ /\Y/\ /\Y/\
[XXX] [XXX] [XXX] [XXX] [XXX] [XXX] [XXX] [XXX] [XXX]
||| ||| ||| ||| ||| ||| ||| ||| |||
||| ||| ||| ||| ||| ||| ||| ||| |||
_|||_ _|||_ _|||_ _|||_ _|||_ _|||_ _|||_ _|||_ _|||_
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Eleven Pipers Piping
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
,/_) ,/_) ,/_) ,/_) ,/_) ,/_) ,/_) ,/_) ,/_) ,/_) ,/_)
(") (") (") (") (") (") (") (") (") (") (")
/I\ /I\ /I\ /I\ /I\ /I\ /I\ /I\ /I\ /I\ /I\
(/^\) (/^\) (/^\) (/^\) (/^\) (/^\) (/^\) (/^\) (/^\) (/^\) (/^\)
||| ||| ||| ||| ||| ||| ||| ||| ||| ||| |||
||| ||| ||| ||| ||| ||| ||| ||| ||| ||| |||
_|||_ _|||_ _|||_ _|||_ _|||_ _|||_ _|||_ _|||_ _|||_ _|||_ _|||_
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ten Lords A-Leaping
w w
w 0__ \0__
\0__ w /|_ w /_
/_ __0/ '\/ / \0_ '\/ / w
'\/ / /_ ` /_ ` __0/
` `\/ \, _\ \, /_
w ` `\/ \,
\0__ w w
/_ 0__ w \0__
_\ \, /|_ __0/ |_
` `\/ \, /_ _\ \,
`\/ /, `
Nine Ladies Dancing
|~
() () 0` |~
() _/)(\_ () _/)(\_ 0`
_/)(\_ /^^\ () _/)(\_ /""\
/~~\ /____\ _/)(\_ /``\ /____\
/____\ /""\ /____\ ()
() /____\ _/)(\_ ()
|~ _/)(\_ () /^^\ _/)(\_
0` |~ /``\ _/)(\_ /____\ /~~\
0` /____\ /~~\ /____\
/____\
Eight Maids A-Milking
__.----. __.----. __.----. __.----.___
(\(__)/)-' (\(__)/)-' (\(__)/)-' (\(__)/)-' ;--`
`(uu)' _ `(dd)' _ `(gg)' _ `(vv)' _ |
) ( (|) ) ( (|) ) ( (|) ) ( (|) |
(o o) 8~8 (o o) 8~8 (o o) 8~8 (o o) 8~8 ,/
`--'\_ (__).`--'\_ (__).'`--'\_ (__).'`--'\_ _(__)|
`|||~~/\|| `|||~~/\|| `|||~~/\|| `||~|| /\||
^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^
__.----. __.----. __.----. __.----.___
(\(__)/)-' (\(__)/)-' (\(__)/)-' (\(__)/)-' ;--`
`(99)' _ `(66)' _ `(aa)' _ `(ee)' _ |
) ( (|) ) ( (|) ) ( (|) ) ( (|) |
(o o) 8~8 (o o) 8~8 (o o) 8~8 (o o) 8~8,/
`--'\_ (__).'`--'\_ (__).`--'\_ (__).`--'\_ _(__)|
`|||~~/\|| `|||~~/\|| `|||~~/\|| `||~|| /\||
^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^`^
Seven swans A-Swimming
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___
/,_ \ /,_ \ /,_ \ /,_ \ /,_ \ /,_ \ /,_ \ _,
|/ )/ |/ )/ |/ )/ |/ )/ |/ )/ |/ )/ |/ )/ / |
// _/ |// _/ // _/ // _/ // _/ // _/ // _/ |
/ (_/ / (_/ / (_/ / (_/ / (_/ / (_/ / (_/ _)
/ ` / ` / ` / ` / ` / ` / ` _/)
\ ~=- \ ~=- \ ~=- \ ~=- \ ~=- \ ~=- \ ~=- /
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~
Six Geese A-Laying
__ __ __ __ __ __
>(' ) >(' ) >(' ) >(' ) >(' ) >(' )
)/ , )/ , )/ , )/ , )/ , )/ ,
/(____/\ /(____/\ /(____/\ /(____/\ /(____/\ /(____/\
/ ) / ) / ) / ) / ) / )
\ ` =~~/ \ ` =~~/ \ ` =~~/ \ ` =~~/ \ ` =~~/ \ ` =~~/
`---Y-' __ `---Y-' __ `---Y-' __ `---Y-' __ `---Y-' __ `---Y-' __
~~' (__) ~~' (__) ~~' (__) ~~' (__) ~~' (__) ~~' (__)
Five Golden Rings
.-. .-. .-. .-. .-.
((_)) ((_)) ((_)) ((_)) ((_))
'-' '-' '-' '-' '-'
Four Calling Birds
___ ___ ___ ___
('v') ('v') ('v') ('v')
(( )) (( )) (( )) (( ))
-/-"---"---/-"---"---/-"---"---/-"---"--
Three French Hens
(\ }\ (\ }\ (\ }\
( \_('> ( \_('> ( \_('>
(__(=_) (__(=_) (__(=_)
-"= -"= -"=
Two Turtle Doves
_ _
<')_,/ <') ,/
(_==/ (_==/
='- ='-
And a Partridge in a Pear Tree
_
('>
/))@@@@@
/@"@@@@@()@
@@()@@()@@@@
@@@O@@@@()@@@
@()@@\@@@()@@
@()@||@@@@@
@@||@@@
||
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
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=========================================
Ingredients
--------------
2 bags Pepperidge Farm Chessmen cookies(as much as I love Nilla Wafers, this is an upgrade)
6 to 8 bananas, sliced
2 cups milk
1 (5-ounce) box instant French vanilla pudding
1 (8-ounce) package cream cheese, softened
1 (14-ounce) can sweetened condensed milk
1 (12-ounce) container frozen whipped topping thawed, or equal amount sweetened whipped cream
Directions
-------------
Line the bottom of a 13 by 9 by 2-inch dish with 1 bag of cookies and layer bananas on top.
In a bowl, combine the milk and pudding mix and blend well using a handheld electric mixer. Using another bowl, combine the cream cheese and condensed milk together and mix until smooth. Fold the whipped topping into the cream cheese mixture. Add the cream cheese mixture to the pudding mixture and stir until well blended. Pour the mixture over the cookies and bananas and cover with the remaining cookies. Refrigerate until ready to serve.
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I'm sorry that it's come to this. Andrew has been one of my mainstays since I first stumbled onto blogs via the Corner. No more, though. One benefit is that I'll have more time to read better writers.
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December 09, 2004
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"France has neither winter nor summer nor morals.
Apart from these drawbacks it is a fine country.
France has usually been governed by prostitutes."
---Mark Twain
"I would rather have a German division in front of me
than a French one behind me."
--- General George S. Patton
"Going to war without France is like going deer
hunting without your accordion."
---Norman Schwartzkopf
"We can stand here like the French, or we can do
something about it."
----Marge Simpson
"As far as I'm concerned, war always means failure"
---Jacques Chirac, President of France; and...
"As far as France is concerned, you're right."
---Rush Limbaugh
The only time France wants us to go to war is when
the German Army is sitting in Paris sipping coffee."
--- Regis Philbin
"The French are a smallish, monkey-looking bunch and
not dressed any better, on average, than the citizens of
Baltimore. True, you can sit outside in Paris and drink
little cups of coffee, but why this is more stylish than
sitting inside and drinking large glasses of whiskey I
don't know."
--- P. J. O'Rourke (1989)
"You know, the French remind me a little bit of an
aging actress of the 1940s who was still trying to
dine out on her looks but doesn't have the face for it."
---John McCain, U. S. Senator from Arizona
"You know why the French don't want to bomb
Saddam Hussein? Because he hates America, he
loves mistresses and wears a beret. He is French,
people."
--Conan O'Brien
"I don't know why people are surprised that France
won't help us get Saddam out of Iraq. After all,
France wouldn't help us get the Germans out of
France!"
---Jay Leno
"The last time the French asked for 'more proof' it
came marching into Paris under a German flag."
---David Letterman
How many Frenchmen does it take to change a light
bulb? One. He holds the bulb and all of Europe revolves
around him.
French Army tanks have five gears: four in reverse,
and one forwards, in case the enemy attacks from the rear.
Next time there's a war in Europe, the loser has to
keep France.
France announced today that it plans to ban fireworks
at Euro Disney, following last night's display that caused
soldiers at a nearby French army garrison to surrender.
Update: Looks like I'm not the only that ::cough::loves::cough:: the French. Mheh.
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===============================================
December 14, 1972
My dearest darling John:
Who ever in the whole world would dream of getting a real Partridge
in a Pear Tree? How can I ever express my pleasure. Thank you a
hundred times for thinking of me this way.
My love always,
Agnes
================================================
December 15, 1972
Dearest John:
Today the postman brought your very sweet gift. Just imagine two
turtle doves. I'm just delighted at your very thoughtful gift. They
are just adorable.
All my love,
Agnes
================================================
December 16, 1972
Dear John:
Oh! Aren't you the extravagant one. Now I must protest. I don't
deserve such generosity, three French hens. They are just darling
but I must insist, you've been too kind.
All my love,
Agnes
================================================
December 17, 1972
Dear John:
Today the postman delivered four calling birds. Now really, they are
beautiful, but don't you think enough is enough. You are being too
romantic.
Affectionately,
Agnes
================================================
December 18, 1972
Dearest John:
What a surprise. Today the postman delivered five golden rings, one for
every finger. You're just impossible, but I love it. Frankly, all
those birds squawking were beginning to get on my nerves.
All my love,
Agnes
=================================================
December 19, 1972
Dear John:
When I opened the door today there were actually six geese laying on my
front steps. So you're back to the birds again huh? These geese are huge.
Where will I ever keep them? The neighbors are complaining and I can't
sleep through the racket. Please stop.
Cordially,
Agnes
================================================
December 20, 1972
John:
What's with you and those freaking birds?? Seven swans a swimming. What
kind of damn joke is this? There's bird poop all over the house and they
never stop the racket. I can't sleep at night and I'm a nervous wreck. It's
not funny. So stop those freaking birds.
Sincerely,
Agnes
================================================
December 21, 1972
O.K. Buster:
I think I prefer the birds. What the hell am I going to do with 8
maids a milking? It's not enough with all those birds and 8 maids a
milking, but they had to bring their damn cows. There is manure all over the
lawn and I can't move in my own house. Just lay off me, smartass.
Agnes
================================================
December 22, 1972
Hey Shithead:
What are you.....some kind of sadist? Now there's nine pipers
playing. And Christ do they play. They've never stopped chasing
those maids since they got here yesterday morning. The cows are
getting upset and they're stepping all over those screeching birds.
What am I going to do? The neighbors have started a petition to evict
me.
You'll get yours !
Agnes
================================================
December 23, 1972
You rotten prick:
Now there's ten ladies dancing. I don't know why I call those sluts
ladies. They've been balling those pipers all night long. Now the
cows can't sleep and they've got diarrhea. My living room is a river
of shit. The Commissioner of Buildings has subpoenaed me to give cause
why the building shouldn't be condemned. I'm calling the police on you !
Agnes
================================================
December 24, 1972
Listen F--khead:
What's with those eleven lords a leaping on those maid and ladies?
Some of those broads will never walk again. Those pipers ran through the
maids and have been committing sodomy with the cows. All twenty-three
of the birds are dead. They've been trampled to death in the orgy. I hope
you're satisfied, you rotten vicious swine.
You're sworn enemy,
Agnes
================================================
December 25, 1972
Dear Sir:
This is to acknowledge your latest gift of twelve fiddlers fiddling
which you have seen fit to inflict on our client, Miss Agnes
McHolstein. The destruction, of course, was total. All
correspondence should come to our attention. If you should
attempt to reach Miss McHolstein at Happy Dale Sanitarium,
the attendants have been instructed to shoot you on sight.
With this letter please find attached a warrant for your arrest.
Cordially,
Law Offices of Badger, Bender and Chole
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Holiday Party
FROM: Ms.Pat Smith, Human Resources Director
TO: Everyone
RE: Christmas Party
DATE: December 1
I'm happy to inform you that the office Christmas Party will
take place on December 22, starting at noon in the banquet
room at Luigi's Open Pit Barbecue. No-host bar, but plenty of
eggnog! We'll have a small band playing traditional carols...
feel free to sing along. And don't be surprised if our General Manager shows up dressed as Santa Claus!
FROM: Pat Smith, Human Resources Director
DATE: December 4
RE: Christmas Party
In no way was yesterday's memo intended to exclude our Jewish
employees. We recognize that Chanukah is an important holiday
which often coincides with Christmas, though unfortunately not
this year. However, from now on we're calling it our "Holiday Party."
The same policy applies to employees who are celebrating Kwanzaa
at this time. Happy now?
FROM: Pat Smith, Human Resources Director
DATE: December 5
RE: Holiday Party
Regarding the note I received from a member of Alcoholics Anonymous
requesting a non-drinking table...you didn't sign your name. I'm happy
to accommodate this request, but if I put a sign on a table that
reads,"AAOnly," you wouldn't be anonymous anymore. How am I
supposed to handle this? Somebody?
FROM: Pat Smith, Human Resources Director
DATE: December 6
RE: Holiday Party
What a diverse company we are! I had no idea that November 27
was the beginning of the Muslim holy month of Ramadan, which
forbids eating, drinking and intimacy during daylight hours. There
goes the party! Seriously, we can appreciate how a luncheon
this time of year does not accommodate our Muslim employees beliefs.
Perhaps Luigi's can hold off on serving your meal until the end of the
party, or else package everything for take-home in little foil swans.
Will that work? Meanwhile, I've arranged for members of Overeaters
Anonymous to sit farthest from the dessert buffet and pregnant
women will get the table closest to the restrooms. Did I miss anything?
FROM: Pat Smith, Human Resources Director
DATE: December 7
RE: Holiday Party
So December 21 marks the Winter Solstice...what do you expect me
to do, a tap-dance on your heads? Fire regulations at Luigi's prohibit
the burning of sage by our "earth-based Goddess worshipping"
employees, but we'll try to accommodate your shamanic drumming
circle during the band's breaks. Okay???
FROM: Pat Smith, Human Resources Director
DATE: December 8
RE: Holiday Party
People, people, nothing sinister was intended by having our GM
dress up like Santa Claus! Even if the anagram of "Santa" does
happen to be Satan," there is no evil connotation to our own
"little man in a red suit." It's a tradition, folks, like sugar shock
at Halloween or family feuds over the Thanksgiving turkey or
broken hearts on Valentine's Day. Could we lighten up?
FROM: Pat Smith, Human Resources Director
DATE: December 11
RE: Holiday Party
Vegetarians!? I've had it with you people! We're going to keep
this party at Luigi's Open Pit Barbecue whether you like it or not,
so you can sit quietly at the table furthest from the "grill of death,"
as you so quaintly put it, and you'll get your #$%^&*! salad bar,
including hydroponic tomatoes...but you know, they have feelings,
too. Tomatoes scream when you slice them. I've heard them scream,
I'm hearing them scream right now!
FROM: Karen Jones, Acting Human Resources Director
DATE: December 12
RE:Ms. Pat Smith and Holiday Party
I'm sure I speak for all of us in wishing Pat Smith a speedy recovery
from her stress-related illness and I'll continue to forward your cards
to her at the sanitarium. In the meantime, management has decided
to cancel our Holiday Party and give everyone the afternoon of the
22nd off with full pay.
Happy Holidays
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Yes, Virginia, There is a Santa Claus
Editorial Page, New York Sun, 1897
We take pleasure in answering thus prominently the communication below, expressing at the same time our great gratification that its faithful author is numbered among the friends of The Sun:I am 8 years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. Papa says, "If you see it in The Sun, it's so." Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus?
Virginia O'Hanlon
-------------------------
Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a sceptical age. They do not believe except what they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours, man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.
He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The external light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies. You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if you did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.
You tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived could tear apart. Only faith, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.
No Santa Claus?Thank God he lives and lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay 10 times 10,000 years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!!!!
I'm certain that I will repeat this story many times to my newborn daughter, who coincidentally is named Virginia. Yes, I believe, too.
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December 08, 2004
=========================================
Rudolph was a four-hoofed ungulate, who, incidentally, possessed
a nasal appendage of a maroon luster. Consequently, if
circumstances were to present themselves that he ever came into
your view, you would most undoubtedly remark at to its luminary
qualities.
The multitude of other members of the population in his
ecological community had previously teased, chuckled
boisterously, and dubbed him unspeakable pseudonyms -- the
objective of which was to lower his self-esteem and make him
miserable. They also excluded him from participation in leisure
activities consistent with their species.
However, on the twenty-fourth of December in an unspecified year,
a mythological, supernatural being inherent to western culture
(who symbolizes the Christmas attitude and allegedly brings gifts
to children) arrived through the supersaturated, humid air, spoke
to Rudolph and formally invited him, due to his extraordinary
nasal characteristic to stand at the forefront of his snow
vehicle with the express purpose that he navigate through the
nocturnal mist.
At that point, the multitude of other members of the population
in his ecological community who had previously teased, chuckled
boisterously, and dubbed him unspeakable pseudonyms, reversed
their disposition toward Rudolph to a more congenial, amicable
relationship. They consequently exclaimed with great exaltation
and fervor, "Rudolph, the antlered mammal with a maroon nasal
appendage, you shall most certainly be recorded in the annals of
time, and your memory will be preserved for posterity!
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Well, YJP, in the blogosphere (and Christ, there’s a word I hate—like “fisking"), higher rankings mean better ad revenue, and rankings are a product of more than just quality product. I wish it weren’t so, but it is.I blew off the Washington Post awards and, from the perspective of building a readership, that was a mistake.
Re: these contests. Well, you and I have talked about this before, so you know I hate these things. But IÂ’m terrible at marketing, and these things are ways to market the site. So as much as I hate it, I have to do it.
Makes me sick to ask people to go vote for me everyday. Seriously. I feel dirty. But if I am unable to make this thing pay for itself, I canÂ’t justify doing it daily. So IÂ’m learning to whore myself a little bit. Reluctantly.
Right now I’m at that, “hey, you don’t look that slutty in fish nets” point.
Posted by Jeff Goldstein
And this one:
It took Allah almost ten months to totally burn out and quit blogging after winning last year, Jeff.No, it took Allah three months to totally burn out. The seven months after that were a mix of shitty, boring Photoshops and straightforward snoozefest warblogging to keep up my traffic.
Here’s how it’s gonna go down, Jeff. Sometime in April or maybe early May, you’re going to be sitting there with that Martha Stewart diary template open, your mind a complete blank. And suddenly you’ll think, “I’ve done it. I’ve done every muff-dive joke known to man. There’s nowhere left to go.” So you’ll say ah, well, fuck it, no more Martha Stewart ‘shops. But then here’s what’ll happen: Martha will get paroled or she’ll get in a fight in the prison commissary or something, and suddenly everyone and their fucking mother will be e-mailing you saying, “Dude, you HAVE GOT to ‘shop this. The earth itself cries out for it.” And you’ll start sweating again ‘cause just about the last fucking thing in the world you’ll want to do at that point is tap out another Stewart piece. Maybe you’ll do it anyway. Or, just maybe, you’ll start wondering the same thing I wondered when I eventually got to this point: namely, could booting up the old Sega and replaying Sonic The Hedgehog all the way through really be a worse use of my time than this? And the answer is: no. No, it could not.
The moment I finally knew for sure that quitting was the right thing to do was when Arafat was in that he’s dead/he’s not dead limbo. The demand for agonizingly cliched Arafat/"Weekend at Bernie’s” ‘shops was at an all-time high. And you know and I know and everyone else knows damn well who would have been expected to provide the supply, were he still blogging at the time. The horror. The horror.
I want to assure you that when your Sonic The Hedgehog moment comes, IÂ’ll be there for you. Game paddle in hand.
Posted by Allah
The above comment prompted this reply from Jeff:
That’s beautiful, Allah. But c’mon—how does one ever run out of muff diving jokes? Seriously. It that even possible?Posted by Jeff Goldstein
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