[diamondgypsy]

A Christmas Tale
by Jacqueline Ramm

At this time of year it is patently clear
That the males are the ones who are blest.
Thoughts like "goodwill to men" we hear time and again
And we find them quite hard to digest.

As we women all know, men think they run the show,
And sometimes we allow them this pause.
But it gets on our nerves, like too many hors d'oeuvres
When we want to get at the main course.

Many times out of mind the same problem we find,
Leaving plans to the menfolk is risky.
Christmas spirit they think is some kind of a drink,
Such as vodka, Baccardi, or whiskey.

Since we carry the load, men keep out of our road,
We are ready and willing and able.
For it's perfectly clear, that the stuffed turkeys here
Are not always confined to the table.

The traditional way is now rather passe,
Lets give credit, where credit is due.
Then you'll see, man or boy, in return you'll enjoy
The fruits of OUR goodwill to you.[hr]
A Letter to Rudolph
by Denise Hobbs

Dear Husband, It is time that I must have my say,
I've taken your shit day after day.
I've kept the home peaceful year after year
Now there is going to be changes, so listen my dear.

So you're famous, everyone knows your name,
And you're a specialist by gum, in the transport game,
You think you're so grand with your important job.
But I'm telling you my dear you're a worn out old yob

363 days a year,
You sit on your arse drinking scotch, rum and beer,
You claim it is to keep up the shine on your nose
So Santa can see where he bloodywell goes.

One night a year is all that you work,
You and your eight reisty mates - they're all jerks.
Dasher and Dancer - Speed freaks I say,
The sleigh wouldn't go that quick any other way.
Prancer and Vixen - Just cheap little tarts,
But they look like angels once Comet starts.

Cupids on some freaked out damned power trip,
And Donner...well, she should just get a damned grip
And Blitzen, I almost don't need to say,
Is here getting blitzed with you every day.

All of these years at the front of the sled,
Has gone, I'm afraid, to your crusty old head.
You're a layabout and a drunkard, with a big shiny nose,
And a weakness for elves in black pantyhose.

I'm telling you husband that one Christmas song,
Has made you think that you can do no wrong.
So this year while your out with old Santa's sled,
I am eloping, my dear, with your friend - Mr. Ed

[diamondgypsy]

An Eighties Christmas Flashback
by Flower Child

'Twas the night before Friday
and all through the town,
no cops were cruising,
no narks were around.

As we all rolled our joints
to be put in our sacks,
we knew that soon
we'd be stoned to the max.

We drank Jack Daniel's
And smoked Panama Red,
a hit of tea
and man I felt dead.

We were all up that midnight
all of the day, when
there was a knock at the door
that gave us away.

There stood a man
wearing a smile,
so we invited him in
to party a while.

What to our red,
glassy eyes should appear,
two pounds of Columbia
and a case of beer.

So we sat down
and he started to roll,
filled up a glass
and lit up a bowl.

We ask the man
what was his name,
he said Saint Nichol
and drugs is my fame.

So as the man
strutted out of sight,
he said mari-ju-ana to all
and to all a good night.[hr]
A Politically Correct Christmas Story

'Twas the night before Christmas and Santa's a wreck...
How to live in a world that's politically correct?
His workers no longer would answer to "Elves".
"Vertically Challenged" they were calling themselves.
And labour conditions at the North Pole
were alleged by the union to stifle the soul.

Four reindeer had vanished, without much propriety,
Released to the wilds by the Humane Society.
And equal employment had made it quite clear
That Santa had better not use just reindeer.
So Dancer and Donner, Comet and Cupid
Were replaced with 4 pigs, and you know that looked stupid!

The runners had been removed from his sleigh;
The ruts were termed dangerous by the E.P.A.
And people had started to call for the cops
When they heard sled noises on their rooftops.
Second-hand smoke from his pipe had his workers quite frightened.
His fur trimmed red suit was called "Unenlightened."

And to show you the strangeness of life's ebbs and flows,
Rudolf was suing over unauthorised use of his nose
And had gone on Geraldo, in front of the nation,
Demanding millions in over-due compensation.
So, half of the reindeer were gone; and his wife,
Who suddenly said she'd enough of this life,

Joined a self-help group, packed, and left in a whiz,
Demanding from now on her title was Ms.
And as for the gifts, why, he'd never had a notion
That making a choice could cause so much commotion.
Nothing of leather, nothing of fur,
Which meant nothing for him. And nothing for her.

Nothing that might be construed to pollute.
Nothing to aim, Nothing to shoot.
Nothing that clamoured or made lots of noise.
Nothing for just girls, or just for the boys.
Nothing that claimed to be gender specific.
Nothing that's warlike or non-pacifistic.

No candy or sweets...they were bad for the tooth.
Nothing that seemed to embellish a truth.
And fairy tales, while not yet forbidden,
Were like Ken and Barbie, better off hidden.
For they raised the hackles of those psychological
Who claimed the only good gift was one ecological.

No baseball, no football...someone could get hurt;
Besides, playing sports exposed kids to dirt.
Dolls were said to be sexist, and should be passe;
And Nintendo would rot your entire brain away.
So Santa just stood there, dishevelled, perplexed;
He just could not figure out what to do next.

He tried to be merry, tried to be gay,
But you've got to be careful with that word today.
His sack was quite empty, limp to the ground;
Nothing fully acceptable was to be found.
Something special was needed, a gift that he might
Give to all without angering the left or the right.

A gift that would satisfy, with no indecision,
Each group of people, every religion;
Every ethnicity, every hue,
Everyone, everywhere...even you.
So here is that gift, it's price beyond worth...
May you and your loved ones, enjoy peace on Earth.

--author unknown