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The Naughty Night Before Christmas
Twas the night before Christmas, and God it was neat. The kids were both gone, and my wife was in heat. The doors were all bolted, the phone off the hook, It was time for some nooky, by hook or by crook. Momma in her teddy and I in the nude, Had just hit the bedroom and reached for the lube.
When out on the lawn there arose such a cry, That I lost my boner, and momma went dry. Up to the window I sprang like an elf, Tore back the shade while she played with herself. The moon on the crest of the snowman we'd built, Shoved a broom up his ass, clean up to the hilt.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a rusty old sleigh and eight mangy reindeer. With a fat little driver, half out of the sled, A sock in his ear and a bra on his head. Sure as I'm speaking, he was high as a kite, And he yelled to his team, but it didn't sound right.
Whoa Shithead, whoa Asshole, whoa Stupid, whoa Putz, Either slow down this rig or I'll cut off more...

The Naughty Night Before ChristmasTwas the night before Christmas, and God it was neat. The kids were both gone, and my wife was in heat. The doors were all bolted, the phone off the hook, It was time for some nooky, by hook or by crook. Momma in her teddy and I in the nude, Had just hit the bedroom and reached for the lube.When out on the lawn there arose such a cry, That I lost my boner, and momma went dry. Up to the window I sprang like an elf, Tore back the shade while she played with herself. The moon on the crest of the snowman we'd built, Shoved a broom up his ass, clean up to the hilt.When what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a rusty old sleigh and eight mangy reindeer. With a fat little driver, half out of the sled, A sock in his ear and a bra on his head. Sure as I'm speaking, he was high as a kite, And he yelled to his team, but it didn't sound right.Whoa Shithead, whoa Asshole, whoa Stupid, whoa Putz, Either slow down this rig or I'll cut off your nuts. Look out more...

1. The Wall Street Journal is read by the people who run the country.

2. The New York Times is read by people who think they run the country.

3. The Washington Post is read by people who think they should run the country.

4. USA Today is read by people who think they ought to run the country but don't really understand the Washington Post. They do, however like the smog statistics shown in pie charts.

5. The Los Angeles Times is read by people who wouldn't mind running the country, if they could spare the time, and if they didn't have to leave L. A. to do it.

6. The Boston Globe is read by people whose parents used to run the country.

7. The New York Daily News is read by people who aren't too sure who's running the country, and don't really care as long as they can get a seat on the train.

8. The New York Post is read by people who don't care who's running the country either, as long as they do something more...

A friend of mine once sent me a post card with a picture of the entire planet Earth taken from space. On the back it said, "Wish you were here." I'm moving to Mars next week, so if you have any boxes...
It's a small world, but I wouldn't want to have to paint it.
Cross country skiing is great if you live in a small country.

The other day I was scanning the food sections of three newspapers – the New York Times, the Washington Post and the Boston Globe. All had articles on Middle Eastern cuisine, albeit from different cultural demographics. The Times focused on the Sephardic Jewish cooking, the Post on the foods prepared by the Catholic and Orthodox populations, and the Globe went for the Ramadan meals for Muslims.

And guess what – the Jews, Christians and Muslims were all eating the same thing! In fact, all three articles interviewed people from the same part of the region (the Syrian city of Aleppo).

To which I say to these groups: Just go into a kitchen together and start cooking – you’ll see how much you genuinely have in common. Forget about sending Condi Rice to the Middle East...send Rachael Ray and have her get the warring parties around a stove. We’d have both peace and dinner in less than 30 minutes!

The Reverend Billy Graham tells of a time early in his career when he arrived in a small town to preach a sermon. Wanting to mail a letter, he asked a young boy directions to the post office.
After being told the way by the lad, the Reverend Graham thanked him, adding: "If you'll come to the Baptist church this evening, you can hear me telling everyone how to get to Heaven.
"I don't think I'll be there," the boy said. "You don't even know your way to the post office."

John was a clerk in a small drugstore but he was not much of a salesman. He could never find the item the customer wanted. Bob, the owner, had about enough and warned John that the next sale he missed would be his last. Just then a man came in coughing and he ask John for their best cough syrup. Try as he might John could not find the cough syrup. Remembering Bob's warning he sold the man a box of Ex-Lax and told him to take it all at once. The customer did as John said and then walked outside and leaned against a lamp post. Bob had seen the whole thing and came over to ask John what had transpired." He wanted something for his cough but I couldn't find the cough syrup. I substituted Ex-Lax and told him to take it all at once" John explained." Ex-Lax won't cure a cough!" Bob shouted angrily." Sure it will" John said, pointing at the man leaning on the lamp post." Just look at him. He's afraid to cough!"