off topic -- santa

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soot clung thickly to the product of santa's exertions. a slow roll, and then a mountain of rippled fat avalanched toward the edge of the bed, jackknifing wildy at the mattress edge. the old many nearly rode the wave onto the carpet, but managed to catch himself on a pile of little shoes. a sharp pain, a toe in his back, santa grunted and chucked another dessicated dwarf carcass onto the heap next to the fireplace. man did those suckers burn quick. a tug on the velvet braid, the chute opened, and six more squirmers tumbled onto the mattress.

all this and toys to build.

outside, ormskirk life went on as usual. a frantic gazelle, fur fully involved, pressed its face momentarily againt the glass. smoke poured from its nostrils. dry gazelles and careless smoking, the season's cheer.

unfazed, and why not, santa went about his work with the detached precision of housepainter. all the while thinking about the mrs. -- the housepainter, that is. mrs. claus was still in the cup by the sink. more cauldron than cup i suppose. but there she was.

ormskirk had not agreed with her. and why should it have -- her story was more than implausible. it was FARFETCHED!! justice delayed is justice denied. she got hers.

a quick glance upward, lynskey's right arm was on the three, his remaining leg on the six. left arm ticked the seconds in a sickening, wide arc. fuck analog!!

what's your favorite christmas story??

hurley (hurley), Tuesday, 3 June 2003 16:06 (twenty-two years ago)

"It's a Wonderful Life" ?

Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Wednesday, 4 June 2003 04:00 (twenty-two years ago)

Dear Santa,

If I am a very very good girl this year, please may I have a pony for Christmas?

Thank you.

C J

C J (C J), Wednesday, 4 June 2003 14:33 (twenty-two years ago)

"i've got something better than a pony."

--santa

hurley (hurley), Wednesday, 4 June 2003 17:52 (twenty-two years ago)

Get back into yr workshop with the elves, and stop trying to seduce innocent girls with such a blatantly ridiculous lie.

Mrs Santa (C J), Wednesday, 4 June 2003 18:10 (twenty-two years ago)

Ah, I remember a Christmas...

I was six. Mom told me that Santa was going to come before I went to sleep. All of a sudden the front door burst open and in stepped a man with a full white beard...and a leather jerkin and a helmet with horns sticking out of it.

"HO, HO, HO! I'm SANTA THOR!"

Needless to say, I was enthralled. He emptied his bag of presents on the floor and took a big puff of a little white cigar, turned, pointed a finger at me, and left. The next day I asked the other kids if Santa Thor had visited them and they all said "No." and looked at me with those envious eyes that a six-year-old can pull off so well...

That was precious. I still have two of the sticks and five of the rocks.

I am special.

Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Wednesday, 4 June 2003 23:57 (twenty-two years ago)

The snow lay evenly that night and from far off he could hear the sound of boots crunching through the crust, carryingly clearly through the still air.
He adjusted his body and settled down more comfortably for the long wait. The guy was a good half mile off yet.
Strange how there was so little noise, he thought. The house and it's outbuildings sat silent, sulking down into themselves in the halflight, and still he waited.
Then he got bored, and went inside, stubbing his toe on a robin.

Matt (Matt), Thursday, 5 June 2003 09:04 (twenty-two years ago)

You'd of thought he'd have seen him considering he's at least 18 feet high.

Jarlr'mai (jarlrmai), Thursday, 5 June 2003 10:11 (twenty-two years ago)

And Joseph went up from Galilee to Bethlehem with Mary, his espoused wife, who was great with child. And she brought forth a son and wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger because there was no room for them in the inn. And the angel of the Lord spoke to the shepherds and said, "I bring you tidings of great joy. Unto you is born a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord." (Luke 2:4-11)

"Sorry mate, we’ve got a problem with the angel," said a Pharisee, as he patiently explained to Joseph that angels are widely regarded as religious symbols, and the stable was on public property where such symbols were not allowed to land or even hover. "You'll have to get rid of it".

"Besides," said a Sadducee who was with him, "there are no such things as angels, and telling a child that they're real will only hinder the child's emotional development."

"And I have to tell you," said the Pharisee, "this whole thing looks very much like a Nativity scene. That's a no-no, too."

Joseph had a bright idea. "What if I put a couple of reindeer over there near the ox and ass?" he said, eager to avoid sectarian strife.

"That would definitely help," said the Pharisee "How about throwing in a candy cane and a couple of elves and snowmen, too?" he said.

Mary asked, "What does my son's birth have to do with snowmen?"

"Snowpersons," cried a young woman, changing the subject before it veered dangerously toward religion.

Off to the side of the crowd, a Philistine was painting the Nativity scene. Mary complained that she and Joseph looked too tattered and worn in the picture.

"Artistic license," he said. "I've got to show the plight of the haggard homeless in a greedy, uncaring society in winter," he quipped.

"We're not haggard or homeless. The inn was just full," said Mary.

"Whatever," said the painter.

Two women outside the stable began to argue fiercely. One said she objected to Jesus' birth "because it privileged motherhood." The other scoffed at virgin births, but said that if they encouraged more attention to diversity in family forms and the rights of single mothers, well, then, she was all for them.

"I'm not a single mother," Mary started to say, but she was cut off by a third woman who insisted that swaddling clothes are a form of child abuse, since they restrict the natural movement of babies.

With the arrival of ten child advocates, all trained to spot infant abuse and manger rash, Mary and Joseph were pushed to the edge of the crowd, where arguments were breaking out over how many reindeer (or what mix of reindeer and seasonal sprites) had to be installed to compensate for the infant's unfortunate religious character.
An older man bustled up, bowling over two merchants, who had been busy debating whether an elf is the same as a fairy and whether the elf/fairy should be shaking hands with Jesus in the crib or merely standing to the side, jumping around like a sports mascot.

"I'd hold off on the reindeer," the man said, explaining that the use of asses and oxen as picturesque backdrops for Nativity scenes carries the subliminal message of human dominance. He passed out two leaflets, one denouncing manger births as invasions of animal space, the other arguing that stables are "penned environments" where animals are incarcerated against their will. He had no opinion about elves or candy canes.

Signs declaring "Free the Bethlehem 2" began to appear, referring to the obviously exploited ass and ox. Someone said the halo on Jesus' head was elitist.

Just then, the three wise men rode up.

The crowd gasped, "They're all male!" And "Not very multicultural!"

"Balthasar here is black," said one of the Magi, helpfully.

"Yes, but how many of you are gay or disabled?" someone shouted. A committee was quickly formed to find an impoverished lesbian wise-person among the halt and lame of Bethlehem.

A calm voice, seemingly from nowhere, said "Be of good cheer, Mary, you have done well and your son will change the world".

"There is one thing, though. Religious holidays are important, but can't we learn to celebrate them in ways that unite, not divide? For instance, instead of all this business about 'Gloria in excelsis Deo,' why not just 'Season's Greetings'?"

Mary said, "You mean my son has entered human history to deliver the message, 'Hello, it's winter'?"

"That's harsh, Mary," said the voice. "Remember, your son could make it big in midwinter festivals, if he doesn't push the religion thing too far. Centuries from now, in nations yet unborn, people will give each other pricey gifts and have big office parties on his birthday. That's not chopped liver."

"Let me get back to you," Mary said, with a small sigh.

C J (C J), Thursday, 5 June 2003 18:12 (twenty-two years ago)

Clapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclclapclapclapclap.

Excellent.

Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Thursday, 5 June 2003 20:43 (twenty-two years ago)

how on earth can you truly clap with those huge, puffy, red hands?? or are they just inflatable *GLOVES*???

hurley (hurley), Friday, 6 June 2003 18:06 (twenty-two years ago)

If I would have clapped with my *real* hands it would have been "Clumpclumpclump...etc." and that would have sounded silly.

Besides...People who have to operate their keyboard with an unsharpened pencil held in their teeth have every right to exercise poetic license. So ner.

Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Friday, 6 June 2003 21:29 (twenty-two years ago)

I'm on my third bottle of Great With Child. It's much better than that French Great With Horse piss.

Pooster (pooster), Friday, 6 June 2003 21:46 (twenty-two years ago)

I would join you, but instead I choose to demyrrh.

Matt (Matt), Sunday, 8 June 2003 10:25 (twenty-two years ago)

That's very frank, incensed though I am by your reply.

C J (C J), Sunday, 8 June 2003 15:15 (twenty-two years ago)

I'll forgold any smart-ass interjections here...

Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Sunday, 8 June 2003 22:23 (twenty-two years ago)


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