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Author
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Topic: Holiday 's
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Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)
Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001
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posted 12-28-2002 02:11 PM
Rated PG ![[Smile]](smile.gif)
The Christmas Elf Massacre
Buy me a beer if you want the story told
Of why I moved down South from the frost and cold.
Why I’m knee deep in therapy, liquor, and pills.
Why I’ve given up charity in lieu of cheap thrills.
Why I’m loathe mistletoe, fruitcake and bells --
And why I’ll celebrate Xmas when it freezes in hell.
You’ll never see this elf make angels in snow.
Hey thanks for the booze – so I guess here it goes:
“Twas the night after Christmas in the North Pole
No creatures were stirring, not one lousy soul.
Santa’s house appeared eerily silent
But inside the fat man was hungry, was violent
.
This workshop of toys for kids of all ages
Was filled with elves quaking in cages.
Who woke up from their long winter’s naps
To find themselves snared in a devious trap.
Hours before I had been bingeing on nog
Passed out under the bed, I spied the whole saga.
I saw all my brothers rounded up in cages.
Sleepy victims of wicked midnight rampages.
Then what to my horrified eyes should appear
But a wild-eyed Santa pinching an elf by the ear.
Each little sprite shook in their tights and boots.
That this monster was Santa, no one could refute.
His size and his beard gave him away as St. Nick
His fangs and his scales made me quite sick
Blood seemed to stain his white fluffy trim
He was hunched, drooling, and disgustingly slim.
“Come little helper! Climb into my maw!”
He laughed, then casually ate the elf raw.
He greedily sucked the imp’s hide off the bone
I was awed! I was scared! I was truly alone!
Dainty elf paws clutched bars and cried
Drunk on deinal; confounded by why.
(He lost his count during his murderous spree
Thought he’d rounded up most, but forgot about me!)
His hunger was wracking his hunched-over frame
With a crippling appetite that didn’t know shame.
“Don’t eat us! We love you! Look at our faces!”
The doomed little elves made their sad cases
But Santa ignored them with a swipe of his fist
Pulled out some parchment and started a list:
“Silence, you nuggets – I’m trying to think
Who to char-broil, who to blend into drink.
Who to dice, fillet, bake or panfry
Who to boil in soup, who to stuff in a pie”
These taunts seemed so strange to come from a man
Who held the dreams of children in his hands
Teeth full of gristle, he then sadly revealed
To his captive chorus of angel-faced veal,
That humans are greedy, petty, drunk on their vices.
And each Yuletide revel exacts gruesome prices
These prices are paid by the magical gnomes
Who hammer the toys that clutter up homes.
The payment’s a life – one for each holiday sin.
Delivered by Santa, after his joyful break-ins.
Perhaps he was cursed by the Easter Bunny
Or an April Fool’s jester who thought it’d be funny.
The Great Pumpkin, Jack Frost or just maybe –
That jealous and bratty New Years Eve baby.
Maybe it was a clue, how well we were fed
On cookies, cakes, lard balls and bread.
But our nature’s to love, not to distrust.
So we hugged the fat Claus’s and finished each crust.
Ignorant to what would soon transpire
We’d collapse in heaps by the crackling fire.
Expecting the old man to come flying back
And start making next years toys for his sack.
But how does he have enough sprites for his belly?
The final act of sorrow starts as fetal elf jelly.
That ferments inside his wife until it’s a broth
Filled with thimble-sized elves that surge forth like froth.
And these newborn elves, spawned pure from her womb.
Don’t understand: their workshop is really a tomb
Their dimples are gumdrops, they sneeze pixie dust.
Santa doesn’t hate them – he’s cursed with a lust.
Elves are packed with vitamins A, C, and E
We’re awfully juicy, tart yet also fruity,
We go well with gravy and mayonnaise and toast
But casserole is how Santa likes us the most.
Barbequed, fricasseed, or flambéed
Sunny-side up, shish-ka-bobbed or flayed.
Prepared anyway, our flesh is quite delicious
And it’s not like toy-happy children will miss us.
Goodbye Carl, Zud, Sprinkles and Jan!
Blossom, Hortense, Cobweb, and Stan!
Julie, Miss Knickers, Fidget, and Ralph.
I’m sorry you’re dead, you wonderful elf.
A mouthed greased with fat, Santa then hibernated.
As Mrs. Claus squatted and grossly gestated
And all that is left of my cherubic siblings.
Was a pile of bells, curly-toed boots – mostly elf things
So much for good cheer! But don’t shed a tear:
This gruesome cycle has happened for hundreds of years.
And as the fist to survive Father’s murderous rout
In a month I stopped hiding and got the hell out.”
Now I spend my days soaking under a sun like a yolk
(Yeah, I wish I’d have saved all or some of my folk)
I now have a tan where the rum’s in supply.
Sewing up flags for Captain Fourth of July. ![[Big Grin]](biggrin.gif)
| IP: Logged
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Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)
Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001
|
posted 01-05-2003 10:07 AM
Rated PG
Christmas Elf Massacre
Buy me a beer if you want the story told
Of why I moved down South from the frost and cold.
Why I’m knee deep in therapy, liquor, and pills.
Why I’ve given up charity in lieu of cheap thrills.
Why I loathe mistletoe, fruitcake and bells --
And why I’ll celebrate Xmas when it freezes in hell.
You’ll never see this elf make angels in snow.
Hey thanks for the booze – so I guess here it goes:
“Twas the night after Christmas in the North Pole
No creatures were stirring, not one lousy soul.
Santa’s house appeared eerily silent
But inside the fat man was hungry, was violent
.
This workshop of toys for kids of all ages
Was filled with elves quaking in cages.
Who woke up from their long winter’s naps
To find themselves snared in a devious trap.
Hours before I had been bingeing on nog
Passed out under the bed, I spied the whole saga.
I saw all my brothers rounded up in cages.
Sleepy victims of wicked midnight rampages.
Then what to my horrified eyes should appear
But a wild-eyed Santa pinching an elf by the ear.
Each little sprite shook in their tights and boots.
That this monster was Santa, no one could refute.
His size and his beard gave him away as St. Nick
His fangs and his scales made me quite sick
Blood seemed to stain his white fluffy trim
He was hunched, drooling, and disgustingly slim.
“Come little helper! Climb into my maw!”
He laughed, then casually ate the elf raw.
He greedily sucked the imp’s hide off the bone
I was awed! I was scared! I was truly alone!
Dainty elf paws clutched bars and cried
Drunk on deinal; confounded by why.
(He lost his count during his murderous spree
Thought he’d rounded up most, but forgot about me!)
His hunger was wracking his hunched-over frame
With a crippling appetite that didn’t know shame.
“Don’t eat us! We love you! Look at our faces!”
The doomed little elves made their sad cases
But Santa ignored them with a swipe of his fist
Pulled out some parchment and started a list:
“Silence, you nuggets – I’m trying to think
Who to char-broil, who to blend into drink.
Who to dice, fillet, bake or panfry
Who to boil in soup, who to stuff in a pie”
These taunts seemed so strange to come from a man
Who held the dreams of children in his hands
Teeth full of gristle, he then sadly revealed
To his captive chorus of angel-faced veal,
That humans are greedy, petty, drunk on their vices.
And each Yuletide revel exacts gruesome prices
These prices are paid by the magical gnomes
Who hammer the toys that clutter up homes.
The payment’s a life – one for each holiday sin.
Delivered by Santa, after his joyful break-ins.
Perhaps he was cursed by the Easter Bunny
Or an April Fool’s jester who thought it’d be funny.
The Great Pumpkin, Jack Frost or just maybe –
That jealous and bratty New Years Eve baby.
Maybe it was a clue, how well we were fed
On cookies, cakes, lard balls and bread.
But our nature’s to love, not to distrust.
So we hugged the fat Claus’s and finished each crust.
Ignorant to what would soon transpire
We’d collapse in heaps by the crackling fire.
Expecting the old man to come flying back
And start making next years toys for his sack.
But how does he have enough sprites for his belly?
The final act of sorrow starts as fetal elf jelly.
That ferments inside his wife until it’s a broth
Filled with thimble-sized elves that surge forth like froth.
And these newborn elves, spawned pure from her womb.
Don’t understand: their workshop is really a tomb
Their dimples are gumdrops, they sneeze pixie dust.
Santa doesn’t hate them – he’s cursed with a lust.
Elves are packed with vitamins A, C, and E
We’re awfully juicy, tart yet also fruity,
We go well with gravy and mayonnaise and toast
But casserole is how Santa likes us the most.
Barbequed, fricasseed, or flambéed
Sunny-side up, shish-ka-bobbed or flayed.
Prepared anyway, our flesh is quite delicious
And it’s not like toy-happy children will miss us.
Goodbye Carl, Zud, Sprinkles and Jan!
Blossom, Hortense, Cobweb, and Stan!
Julie, Miss Knickers, Fidget, and Ralph.
I’m sorry you’re dead, you wonderful elf.
A mouthed greased with fat, Santa then hibernated.
As Mrs. Claus squatted and grossly gestated
And all that is left of my cherubic siblings.
Was a pile of bells, curly-toed boots – mostly elf things
So much for good cheer! But don’t shed a tear:
This gruesome cycle has happened for hundreds of years.
And as the fist to survive Father’s murderous rout
In a month I stopped hiding and got the hell out.”
Now I spend my days soaking under a sun like a yolk
(Yeah, I wish I’d have saved all or some of my folk)
I now have a tan where the rum’s in supply.
Sewing up flags for Captain Fourth of July.
| IP: Logged
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Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)
Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001
|
posted 01-05-2003 10:12 AM
Rated PG
Christmas Elf Massacre
Buy me a beer if you want the story told
Of why I moved down South from the frost and cold.
Why I’m knee deep in therapy, liquor, and pills.
Why I’ve given up charity in lieu of cheap thrills.
Why I loathe mistletoe, fruitcake and bells --
And why I’ll celebrate Xmas when it freezes in hell.
You’ll never see this elf make angels in snow.
Hey thanks for the booze – so I guess here it goes:
“Twas the night after Christmas in the North Pole
No creatures were stirring, not one lousy soul.
Santa’s house appeared eerily silent
But inside the fat man was hungry, was violent
.
This workshop of toys for kids of all ages
Was filled with elves quaking in cages.
Who woke up from their long winter’s naps
To find themselves snared in a devious trap.
Hours before I had been bingeing on nog
Passed out under the bed, I spied the whole saga.
I saw all my brothers rounded up in cages.
Sleepy victims of wicked midnight rampages.
Then what to my horrified eyes should appear
But a wild-eyed Santa pinching an elf by the ear.
Each little sprite shook in their tights and boots.
That this monster was Santa, no one could refute.
His size and his beard gave him away as St. Nick
His fangs and his scales made me quite sick
Blood seemed to stain his white fluffy trim
He was hunched, drooling, and disgustingly slim.
“Come little helper! Climb into my maw!”
He laughed, then casually ate the elf raw.
He greedily sucked the imp’s hide off the bone
I was awed! I was scared! I was truly alone!
Dainty elf paws clutched bars and cried
Drunk on deinal; confounded by why.
(He lost his count during his murderous spree
Thought he’d rounded up most, but forgot about me!)
His hunger was wracking his hunched-over frame
With a crippling appetite that didn’t know shame.
“Don’t eat us! We love you! Look at our faces!”
The doomed little elves made their sad cases
But Santa ignored them with a swipe of his fist
Pulled out some parchment and started a list:
“Silence, you nuggets – I’m trying to think
Who to char-broil, who to blend into drink.
Who to dice, fillet, bake or panfry
Who to boil in soup, who to stuff in a pie”
These taunts seemed so strange to come from a man
Who held the dreams of children in his hands
Teeth full of gristle, he then sadly revealed
To his captive chorus of angel-faced veal,
That humans are greedy, petty, drunk on their vices.
And each Yuletide revel exacts gruesome prices
These prices are paid by the magical gnomes
Who hammer the toys that clutter up homes.
The payment’s a life – one for each holiday sin.
Delivered by Santa, after his joyful break-ins.
Perhaps he was cursed by the Easter Bunny
Or an April Fool’s jester who thought it’d be funny.
The Great Pumpkin, Jack Frost or just maybe –
That jealous and bratty New Years Eve baby.
Maybe it was a clue, how well we were fed
On cookies, cakes, lard balls and bread.
But our nature’s to love, not to distrust.
So we hugged the fat Claus’s and finished each crust.
Ignorant to what would soon transpire
We’d collapse in heaps by the crackling fire.
Expecting the old man to come flying back
And start making next years toys for his sack.
But how does he have enough sprites for his belly?
The final act of sorrow starts as fetal elf jelly.
That ferments inside his wife until it’s a broth
Filled with thimble-sized elves that surge forth like froth.
And these newborn elves, spawned pure from her womb.
Don’t understand: their workshop is really a tomb
Their dimples are gumdrops, they sneeze pixie dust.
Santa doesn’t hate them – he’s cursed with a lust.
Elves are packed with vitamins A, C, and E
We’re awfully juicy, tart yet also fruity,
We go well with gravy and mayonnaise and toast
But casserole is how Santa likes us the most.
Barbequed, fricasseed, or flambéed
Sunny-side up, shish-ka-bobbed or flayed.
Prepared anyway, our flesh is quite delicious
And it’s not like toy-happy children will miss us.
Goodbye Carl, Zud, Sprinkles and Jan!
Blossom, Hortense, Cobweb, and Stan!
Julie, Miss Knickers, Fidget, and Ralph.
I’m sorry you’re dead, you wonderful elf.
A mouthed greased with fat, Santa then hibernated.
As Mrs. Claus squatted and grossly gestated
And all that is left of my cherubic siblings.
Was a pile of bells, curly-toed boots – mostly elf things
So much for good cheer! But don’t shed a tear:
This gruesome cycle has happened for hundreds of years.
And as the fist to survive Father’s murderous rout
In a month I stopped hiding and got the hell out.”
Now I spend my days soaking under a sun like a yolk
(Yeah, I wish I’d have saved all or some of my folk)
I now have a tan where the rum’s in supply.
Sewing up flags for Captain Fourth of July.
| IP: Logged
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Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)
Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001
|
posted 01-29-2003 07:33 AM
Rated PG VALENTINE'S DAY
A Pre-Valentine 'Moment'!
How to say "I Love You" in 17 languages....
English . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I Love You
Spanish . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Te Amo
French . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Je T'aime
German . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . lch Liebe Dich
Japanese . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ai Shite Imasu
Italian . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ti Amo
Chinese . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Wo Ai Ni
Swedish . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Jag Alskar
How to say "I love you" in....
Alabama, Arkansas, Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, Tennessee, Missouri, Mississippi, Montana, Louisiana, Virginia, West Virginia, Kentucky & parts of Florida. . . . . . . . .Nice Ass, Get in the truck!
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Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)
Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001
|
posted 02-05-2003 09:17 AM
Rated G Baby Blues - Valentine Story
The Most Beautiful Heart
One day a young man was standing in the middle of the town proclaiming that he had the most beautiful heart in the whole valley. A large crowd gathered and they all admired his heart for it was perfect. There was not a mark or a flaw in it.Yes, they all agreed it truly was the most beautiful heart they had ever seen.The young man was very proud and boasted more loudly about his beautiful heart.
Suddenly, an old man appeared at the front of the crowd and said, "Why your heart is not nearly as beautiful as mine."The crowd and the young man looked at the old man's heart. It was beating strongly,but full of scars,it had places where pieces had been removed and other pieces put in,but they didn't fit quite right and there were several jagged edges.In fact, in some places there were deep gouges where whole pieces were missing.The people stared -- how can he say his heart is more beautiful,they thought?The young man looked at the old man's heart and saw its state and laughed.
"You must be joking," he said. "Compare your heart with mine,mine is perfect and yours is a mess of scars and tears."
"Yes," said the old man, "yours is perfect looking but I would never trade with you.You see, every scar represents a person to whom I have given my love - I tear out a piece of my heart and give it to them, and often they give me a piece of their heart which fits into the empty place in my heart, but because the pieces aren't exact, I have some rough edges, which I cherish,because they remind me of the love we shared.Sometimes I have given pieces of my heart away, and the other person hasn't returned a piece of his heart to me. These are the empty gouges -- giving love is taking a chance. Although these gouges are painful, they stay open, reminding me of the love I have for these people too,and I hope someday they may return and fill the space I have waiting. So now do you see what true beauty is?"
The young man stood silently with tears running down his cheeks. He walked up to the old man, reached into his perfect young and beautiful heart, and ripped a piece out. He offered it to the old man with trembling hands.
The old man took his offering, placed it in his heart and then took a piece from his old scarred heart and placed it in the wound in the young man's heart. It fit, but not perfectly, as there were some jagged edges.
The young man looked at his heart, not perfect anymore but more beautiful than ever,since love from the old man's heart flowed into his.They embraced and walked away side by side.
Author Unknown
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Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)
Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001
|
posted 02-06-2003 05:19 AM
Rated G
A Redneck Valentine
Collards is green,
my dog's name is Blue
and I'm so lucky
to have a sweet thang like you.
Yore hair is like cornsilk
a-flapping in the breeze.
Softer than Blue's
and without all them fleas.
You move like the bass,
which excite me in May.
You ain't got no scales
but I luv you anyway.
Yo're as satisfy'n as okry
jist a-fry'n in the pan.
Yo're as fragrant as "snuff"
right out of the can.
You have some'a yore teeth,
for which I am proud;
I hold my head high
when we're in a crowd.
On special occasions
when you shave under yore arms,
well, I'm in hawg heaven,
and awed by yore charms.
Still them fellers at work
they all want to know,
what I did to deserve
such a purdy, young doe.
Like a good roll of duct tape
yo're there fer yore man,
to patch up life's troubles
and fix what you can.
Yo're as cute as a junebug
a-buzzin' overhead.
You ain't mean like those far ants
I found in my bed.
Cut from the best cloth
like a plaid flannel shirt,
you spark up my life more
than a fresh load of dirt.
When you hold me real tight
like a padded gunrack,
my life is complete;
Ain't nuttin' I lack.
Yore complexion, it's perfection,
like the best vinyl sidin'.
despite all the years,
yore age, it keeps hidin'.
Me 'n' you's like a Moon Pie
with a RC cold drank,
we go together
like a skunk goes with stank.
Some men, they buy chocolate
for Valentine's Day;
They git it at Wal-Mart,
it's romantic that way.
Some men git roses
on that special day
from the cooler at Kroger.
That's impressive," I say.
Some men buy fine diamonds
from a flea market booth.
"Diamonds are forever,"
they explain, suave and couth.
But for this man, honey,
these just won't do.
Cause yo're too special,
you sweet thang you.
I got you a gift,
without taste nor odor,
More useful than diamonds...
it's a new troll'n motor!!
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Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)
Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001
|
posted 02-14-2003 07:58 AM
Rated PG ![[Eek!]](eek.gif) Baby Blues
Some food & love poems for Valentine's
Roses are red, violets are blue.
You appeal to me like a Moose-Head Stew.
Caroline
When my sweetie said "menage a trois?"
I whispered, "Sure thing, darlin' -
you, me, and pate de foie gras."
Sweetbyte
Each night as we snuggle into bed,
Visions of you are not in my head.
And though my dear, I love you a lot,
My heart belongs to chocolate!
Susan of Virginia
Dear Hugh,
You are my sweetie,
You are my hun.
I love you more
Than a cinnamon bun!
Yours forever,
Pam
We've been married now for 56 years,
And shared so many meals, my dear!
But you're still as sweet as chocolate cake,
When I look at you my heart still aches!
Mattalene Wicker
Parting is such sweet sorrow,
But it's just the sugar I came to borrow.
Love is not ever having to say you're sorry,
But please be more careful with the calamari!
He brings me flowers, chocolate, and wine --
Can't help lovin' that man of mine.
Follow your bliss.
I'll make mine Swiss.
(Chocolate, that is.)
~Barbara Forsythe,
Last Morsel Editor~
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Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)
Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001
|
posted 02-17-2003 02:10 PM
Rated G Baby Blues
Some Quotes for President's Day
There is nothing so likely to produce peace as to be well prepared to meet the enemy." ~George Washington
"My first wish is to see this plague of mankind, war, banished
from the earth."~George Washington
To be prepared for war is one of the most effectual means of
preserving peace."~George Washington
"I have been driven to my knees many times because there was no
place else to go."~Abraham Lincoln.
"Honesty is the first chapter in the book of wisdom."
-Thomas Jefferson
First of all, let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself - nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance.Franklin D. Roosevelt,First Inaugural Address,3/4/33
In the truest sense, freedom cannot be bestowed;it must be
achieved.Franklin D. Roosevelt (1882 - 1945),9/22/36
If civilization is to survive, we must cultivate the science of
human relationships - the ability of all peoples, of all kinds, to live together, in the same world at peace. ~ F.D.R.
"My fellow Americans, let us take that first step. Let us...step
back from the shadow of war and seek out the way of peace. And if that journey is a thousand miles, or even more, let history record that we in this land at this time, took the first step."~ John F. Kennedy ,speech(7/26/63)
"Today every inhabitant of this planet must contemplate that day
when this planet may no longer be habitable. Every man, woman and child lives under a nuclear sword of Damocles, hanging by the slenderest of threads, capable of being cut at any moment by
accident or miscalculation or madness. The weapons of war must be abolished before they abolish us." J.F.K. speech,(9/25/61)
... know that a government big enough to give you everything
you want is a government big enough to take from you everything
you have.~Gerald R. Ford, 38th president of U.S. 1974-1976
Government's view of the economy could be summed up in a few short phrases:If it moves, tax it. If it keeps moving, regulate it.And if it stops moving, subsidize it.~Ronald Reagan (1986)
Talk is cheap--except when Congress does it. The government is
like a baby's alimentary canal, with a happy appetite at one end
and no responsibility at the other.~Ronald Reagan
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Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)
Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001
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posted 04-02-2003 07:24 AM
Rated G Baby Blues
Atheist Holiday
An atheist complained to a Christian friend,"Christians have their special holidays,such as Christmas and Easter; and Jews celebrate their holidays, such as Passover and Yom Kippur; Muslims have their holidays.EVERY religion has its holidays.But we atheists," he said, "have no recognized holidays. It's an unfair discrimination." "What do you mean,atheists have no holidays," his friend replied, "People have been observing a special day in your honor for years."
"I don't know what you're talking about," the atheist said,
"When is this special day honoring atheists?" "April first."
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