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christmas jokes


slap martha stewart
 
 
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.
Christmas Present
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.

rating christmas parties
 
 
If you threw a party, the worst thing you could have done was throw the kind of party where your guests, the next day, call you up to say they had a nice time. Now you'll be expected to throw another great party next year.
Christmas Santa
What you should have done was throw the kind of party where your guests wake up several days from now and call their lawyers to find out if they've been indicted for anything. You want your guests to be so anxious to avoid a recurrence of your party that they immediately start planning parties of their own, a year in advance, just to prevent you from having another one.

So next time, make sure your party reaches the correct Festivity Level:

Festivity Level One:
Your guests are chatting amiably with each other, admiring your Christmas-tree ornaments, singing carols around the upright piano, sipping at their drinks and nibbling at hors d'oeuvres.

Festivity Level Two:
Your guests are talking loudly--sometimes to each other and sometimes to nobody at all, rearranging your Christmas-tree ornaments, singing "I Gotta Be Me" around the upright piano, gulping their drinks and wolfing down hors d'oeuvres.

Festivity Level Three:
Your guests are arguing violently with inanimate objects, singing "I Can't Get No Satisfaction," gulping other people's drinks, wolfing down Christmas-tree ornaments, and placing hors d'oeuvres in the upright piano to see what happens when the little hammers strike them.

(You want to keep your party somewhere around Level Three, unless you rent your home and own firearms, in which case you can go to Level Four.)

Festivity Level Four:
Your guests have hors d'oeuvres smeared all over their bodies, are performing a ritual dance around the burning Christmas tree, and have consumed all ten gallons of alcohol at the party. The piano is missing.

The best way to get to Level Four is eggnog. To make eggnog, you'll need rum, whiskey, wine, gin and, if they are in season, eggs. Combine all ingredients in a large, festive bowl. If you use enough alcohol you won't have to worry about them getting salmonella poisoning--their alcohol toxicity level will eliminate that possibility. Then induce your guests to drink this potent mixture.

If your party is successful, the police will knock on your door. If your party is very successful, the police will then lob tear gas through your living-room window. As host, your job is to make sure they don't arrest anybody. Or, if they're dead set on arresting someone, your job is to make sure it isn't you. The best way to do this is to show a lot of respect for their uniforms and assure them you're not doing anything illegal. Here's how to handle it:

Police: "Good evening. Are you the host?"

You: "No."

Police: "We've been getting complaints about this party."

You: "About the drugs?"

Police: "No."

You: "About the guns, then? Is somebody complaining about the guns?"

Police: "No, the noise."

You: "Oh, the noise. Well, that makes sense, because there are no guns or drugs here. (An enormous explosion is heard in the background.) Or fireworks. Who's complaining about the noise? The neighbors?"

Police: "No, the neighbors fled inland hours ago. Most of the recent complaints have come from several miles away. Do you think you could ask the host to quiet things down?"

You: "No problem. (At this point, a Volkswagen bug with primitive religious symbols drawn on the doors emerges from the living room and roars down the hall, past the police and out the front door onto the lawn, where it smashes into a tree. Eight guests tumble out onto the grass, moaning.) See? Things are starting to wind down."

billy gates writes santa
 
 
Dear Santa,

How are you doing? I hope you've had a successful year and have come up with a lot of interesting toys. It's really neat how you're able to do that year after year. I guess that's how you stay number one in the Christmas presents business business.
Christmas Present
Actually, I admire the way you run Christmas. You really have a handle on it. You find out what people want (with letters like this and having kids tell you in person), and then you make the presents and control how they are delivered. It's an impressive operation.

I also like how you've got it to where when somebody says "Christmas presents," people automatically think Santa Claus. What a marketing advantage. Best of all, even though you're a huge success, people still don't know much about your private life. It's just rumors. That's so neat.

I think being at the North Pole helps. That was a good move. For example, when you're designing toys, only your elves know what you're doing, and you're way up there where nobody can spy on you and steal your ideas. And even if they do, you can always just let it out that you're making the same stuff to bring to people for free, so why would they buy the other guy's stuff?

Also, other people who make Christmas presents can't deliver them like you can. Yours is the only sleigh on the distribution highway. You must get some great discounts from them, because if they don't play ball you can just refuse to give out their presents. Very Sharp.

What I don't get is why you give away stuff. That's the dumbest idea I've ever heard. I admit, its why you're number one- who could compete with a deal like that? But it must make it hard to stay in business, especially when you have to visit every kid in the world. You have to keep growing or fail.

Here's an idea on how you can help finance your operation: Give everybody at least one present at Christmas, then you could make batteries and sell them the rest of the year. It would create a demand: You give people something and then sell them what they need to make it work.

Another thing, about you coming down the chimney. That's so slow and inefficient. And what about all the people who don't have chimneys? Santa. I have one word for you--windows. Everybody has windows.

That's about all I have to say. You're probably wondering if I was good or bad this year, but I don't really like to talk about my personal life, if that's O.K. (Just out of curiosity: When you were a boy, did any of the other kids call you a nerd?) Anyway, I don't really have anything to ask for. Mostly I think up something to play with and then build it myself. I guess I'm sort of like you--I make my own toys.

Best of luck,
Billy Gates

excess holiday cheer
 
 
1. You strike a match and light your nose.

2. You take off your shoes and wade in the potato salad.

3. You hear a duck quacking and it's you.
Christmas Elf
4. You tell your best joke to the rubber plant.

5. You refill your glass from the fish bowl.

6. You hear someone say, "Call a priest!"

7. You start kissing the portraits on the wall.

8. You complain about the small bathroom after emerging from the closet.

9. You ask for another ice cube and put it in your pocket.

10. You tell everyone you have to go home... and the party's at your place.

11. You have to hold on to the floor to keep from sliding off.

12. You pick up a roll, and butter your watch.

13. You yawn at the biggest bore in the room... and realize you're in front of the hall mirror.

14. You take out your handkerchief and blow your ear.

15. You suggest everyone stand and sing the national budget.


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