January 1, 0001
HumourList Package #54 - Happy Holidays!!
Double-celebration time, folks…
It would seem that my longest-lasting Email penpal had a birthday yesterday (Tuesday, the 23rd), and I had planned on releasing a Package to say Happy Birthday to her. Well, yesterday was a write-off as last-minute (i.e.: panic) shopping was taking place, and I ran out of time. Today wasn’t much better, with getting all the last-minute gifts wrapped, etc.
So, to Claudia, I humbly apologize, and hope that your life is a little calmer than mine right now. Although, with your house full of family, I’m not sure that’s the case…
Anyhow, I need a double favour from every subscriber: Can you send a happy birthday greeting AND a Merry Christmas greeting to Claudia to make up for my goof yesterday? Having a ton of Email from around the world would make up for it, I’m sure… Here’s the address:
Thanks a bunch folks. By the way, this IS a serious thing, ‘cause see, Claudia’s husband, Paul, sent me this Email today:
“Thought I’d better warn you that she is a little bit upset that she didn’t get even 1 birthday greeting in her mail box. She’s not angry upset, just disappointed upset. Might be wise for you not to bring it up in conversation with her.”
Okay, I’ll bring it up in conversation with all 500 of you from around the world. That’s right folks, we topped 500 subscribers the other day.
Anyhow, this Package is HUGE, since I know not many of you are working during the holidays and will have lots of time to read this, I’m sure.
So, to recap, Claudia, I’m sorry I missed your birthday… you never wrote me back saying if I was allowed to call or not… Lousy excuse, right? Well, I hope that you and your family have a great holiday.
And to all of my HumourList subscribers, whether you celebrate the holidays or not, I hope you have a great time wherever you are, and thanks for being with HumourList.
Opening header is Copyright 1997 by Ian W. Douglas; all rights are reserved, and no portion should be copied in any way or modified in any way without permission of the author. The remainder of this Package is free for distribution.
Top 10 things to say about a Christmas gift you don’t want
- Hey! There’s a gift!
- Well, well, well….
- Boy if I had not recently shot up four sizes that would’ve fit me.
- Perfect for wearing around the basement.
- Gosh. I hope this never catches fire. It is fire season though. Lots of unexplained fires…
- If the dog buries this I’ll be furious.
- I love it but, I fear the jealousy it will inspire.
- Sadly, tomorrow I enter the Federal Witness Protection Program
- To think I got this the year I vowed to give all my gifts to charity
- I really don’t deserve this.
‘Twas the night before Christmas and we were all in a hurry No one had seen Rudolph, Santa started to worry.
We looked everywhere both high and low and we knew we needed Rudolph for the big show.
When he was found he looked sickly and pale Said he partied too hard and spent 3 days in jail.
Santa told Rudolph the big night was here so go take a shower and put down the beer
That’s when Rudolph told Santa “I don’t think I can” and Santa said “You have to, ‘cause I love you, man
“And if you don’t listen to what I’m telling you tomorrow for lunch we’ll have Reindeer stew!”
So Rudolph said “fine, let’s pack up and go but before we do there’s something you should know
“This is the last year I’ll pull your darn sled Because after this I’m retiring to bed”
The day after Christmas Santa threw a big feast we had cakes and pies and even roast beef
But then with a grin he said “Try something new. Mrs. Claus has cooked all day and made us some stew.”
We ate and we drank til they turned the lights off but none seemed to know what ever happened to Rudolph
Here at the North Pole, we’ll miss his red nose It’s still a big mystery that only Santa knows!
TOP 10 SIGNS YOU WON’T BE RECEIVING A CHRISTMAS BONUS THIS YEAR David Letterman, December 11, 1996
Coworkers refer to you as “the ghost of unemployment future”
The last time you saw your boss was when he testified against you at the embezzlement trial
On your door, you find a lovely wreath of pink slips
What you call “my new office,” everybody else calls “the supply closet”
Boss’s Christmas card says, “Don’t let the door hit your butt on the way out”
You keep getting memos reminding you that employees are required to wear pants
When your boss came over for Thanksgiving, he was crushed under the avalanche of stolen office supplies
Whenever you ask for a raise, a guy shows up at your house and breaks your jaw
In your most recent performance evaluation, the word “crap” appeared 78 times
You’re the starting quarterback for the New York Jets
Singapore – Thousands of sea miles separating an American mother from her Navy son could not stop her from sending him his favorite Christmas cookies – 700 pounds of them.
Andy Norton, a slightly pudgy 22-year-old technician on a U.S. destroyer, was overwhelmed Thursday when told his mother and a townful of friends in tiny Elkhorn, Wisconsin, had baked the cookies for him and his shipmates 10,000 miles away in equatorial Singapore.
“This is nuts, this is crazy. I am kind of surprised and embarrassed. This is unbelievable,” Norton cried, turning crimson amid cheers from his 320 friends.
“It doesn’t surprise me, though. My mom is like that. But I didn’t think she would get the whole town behind it,” he said.
The sailors of the USS Paul Hamilton were at first bewildered when a third of a ton of cookies and a brace of Singaporean girls dressed as elves landed on their deck.
Ship Commander William Landay had kept the surprise a close secret for more than a month.
“We are all away from our home and families since November, and these people whom we have never met have gone out of their way to do something,” he said.
Said Norton, “I am a bit overweight, and this is not helping very much, but I like it anyway.”
His mother has sent homemade cookies to him every Christmas throughout his three years in the service.
The great 1996 bake began when Norton’s mom gathered a few more mothers to make enough cookies for some of her son’s friends, too.
Before they could cry “dough,” moms from all over the town of 5,000 had gathered in the spirit of Christmas to make enough for the entire ship.
Then they faced the problem of how to get the sacks of cookies halfway across the world in time for Christmas.
An international courier company, DHL, read about their plight in a local newspaper and flew in the cookies for free.
WhiteBoard News for Monday, December 16, 1996
TOP 10 DEPARTMENT STORE SANTA PET PEEVES David Letterman, December 9, 1996
Kids who refuse to believe that’s fruitcake on your breath, not gin
When the last guy to use the beard leaves bits of his lunch in it
Even with the costume, people recognizing you from “America’s Most Wanted”
Parents who get all uptight when you offer their kids a pinch of Skoal
That billionaire elf from Texas who won’t shut up about running for president
Enduring the taunts of your old buddies from Yale Drama School
Those dorks in the Power Rangers costumes get all the babes
Kids who don’t understand that Santa’s been a little jittery since he got back from ‘Nam
Constantly being asked, “Is Rudolph gay?”
Two words: lap rash
Baby boomers have passed through three stages of Santa Claus, says Argus Hamilton. “First, you believe in Santa Claus. Second, you don’t believe in Santa Claus. Third, you discover you are Santa Claus.”
A new survey shows that 9% of American adults believe in Santa. Asks Gary Easley, “Isn’t that just about the same percentage Bill Clinton won by?”
(re-run by popular demand)
The X(mas) Files
Mulder: We’re too late. It’s already been here.
Scully: Mulder, I hope you know what you are doing.
Mulder: Look, Scully, just like the other homes: Douglas fir, truncated, mounted, transformed into some sort of shrine; halls decked with boughs of holly; stockings hung by the chimney, with care.
Scully: You really think someone’s been here?
Mulder: Someone or some THING.
Scully: Mulder, over here – it’s fruitcake.
Mulder: Don’t touch it! Those things can be lethal.
Scully: It’s O.K. There’s a note attached: “Gonna find out who’s naughty and nice.”
Mulder: It’s judging them, Scully. It’s making a list.
Scully: Who? What are you talking about?
Mulder: Ancient mythology tells of an obese humanoid entity who could travel at great speed in a craft powered by antlered servants. Once each year, near the winter solstice, this creature is said to descend from the heavens to reward its followers and punish its disbelievers with jagged chunks of anthracite.
Scully: But that’s legend, Mulder – a story told by parents to frighten children. Surely, you don’t believe it?
Mulder: Something was here tonite, Scully. Check out the bite marks on this gingerbread man. Whatever tore through this plate of cookies was massive – and in a hurry.
Scully: It left crumbs everywhere. And look, Mulder, this milk glass has been completely drained.
Mulder: It gorged itself, Scully. It fed without remorse.
Scully: But why would they leave it milk and cookies?
Mulder: Appeasement. Tonight is the Eve, and nothing can stop its wilding.
Scully: But if this thing does exist, how did it get in? The doors and windows were locked. There’s no sign of forced entry.
Mulder: Unless I miss my guess, it came through the fireplace.
Scully: Wait a minute, Mulder. If you are saying some huge creature landed on the roof and came down the chimney, you’re crazy. The flue is barely six inches wide. Nothing could get through there.
Mulder: But what if it could alter its shape, move in all directions.
Scully: You mean, like a bowl full of jelly?
Mulder: Exactly. Scully, I’ve never told anyone this, but when I was a child, my home was visited. I saw the creature. It had long white strips of fur surrounding its ruddy, misshapen head. Its bloated torso was red and white. I’ll never forget the horror. I turned away, and when I looked back it had somehow taken on the facial features of my father.
Mulder: I know what I saw. And that night it read my mind. It brought me a Mr. Potato Head, Scully. IT KNEW I WANTED A MR. POTATO HEAD.
Scully: I’m sorry, Mulder, but you’re asking me to disregard the laws of physics. You want me to believe in some supernatural being who soars across the skies and brings gifts to good little girls and boys. Listen to what you are saying. Do you understand the repercussions? If this gets out, they’ll close the X-files.
Mulder: Scully, listen to me: It knows when you are sleeping. It knows when you’re awake.
Scully: But we have no proof.
Mulder: Last year, on this exact date, S.E.T.I. radio telescopes detected bogeys in the airspace over twenty-seven states. The White House ordered a Condition Red.
Scully: But that was a meteor shower.
Mulder: Officially. Two days ago, eight prized Scandinavian reindeer vanished from the National Zoo in Washington, D.C. Nobody - not even the zookeeper - was told about it. The government doesn’t want people to know about Project Kringle. They fear that if this thing is proved to exist, then the public would stop spending half its annual income in a holiday shopping frenzy. Retail markets will collapse. Scully,they cannot let the world believe this creature lives. There’s too much at stake. They’ll do whatever it takes to insure another silent night.
Scully: Mulder, I –
Mulder: Sh-h-h! Do you hear what I hear?
Scully: On the roof. It sounds like … a clatter.
Mulder: The truth is up there. Let’s see what’s the matter.
In some communities it is the custom to give a Christmas present of a few dollars to the trash collectors. It’s gone so far that some collectors tape an open envelope to trash cans: “Season’s Greetings from Your Trash Collectors.”
One family somehow neglected to respond to the “greetings.” Just a
day or two before Christmas, there appeared another envelope:
“Season’s Greetings from Your Trash Collectors.” And under that, written in large letters: “SECOND NOTICE.”
At a family meeting to decide where to celebrate the holidays, my newest son-in-law turned to my daughter and said, “Well, we have to have Thanksgiving and Christmas with either your Mom or your sister.”
Touched that he loved his new family so much, I started to hug him as my eyes misted over. Then he added, “They have satellite dishes!”
Nothing is ever wasted.
The Christmas presents of today are the garage sales of tomorrow.
THE TOP SIGNS CHRISTMAS HAS BECOME TOO COMMERCIAL (taken from the TOP 16 SIGNS … from The Top Five List)
You don’t recall that line from It’s A Wonderful Life saying, “Every time a cash register rings, a customer enjoys never-before year-end savings at Try-N-Save!”
Your kid makes a fortune trading in “Elmo futures.”
Salad Shooter in hand, Michael Jordan shows up as the honorary “4th wise man” in new nativity scenes.
Santa’s Coyote/Ford-powered sleigh came in second in this year’s Indy 500.
Wise Men now arrive carrying Faux Gold, The Clapper and a Chia Pet.
Rudolph demands Holiday Pay or he walks.
Santa’s North Pole operation announces a corporate downsizing amidst rumors that the Elf Division will be sold off to Keebler.
Reindeer rights purchase by Disney results in odd-sounding, “On Doc, on Happy, on Grumpy, on Sneezy. Now Bashful, now Dopey, now Eisner and Sleepy.”
$, the holiday formerly known as Christmas
The Baby GAP’s line of Swaddling Clothes™
[ This list copyright 1996 by Chris White and Ziff-Davis ] [ The Top Five List email@example.com www.topfive.com ]
Last verse of 12 Days of Christmas - AOL style:
On the twelfth day of AOL those buttheads gave to me, 12 reasons to cancel, 11 channels not working, 10 days without mail, 9 frozen chat rooms, 8 hours of busy signals, 7 frozen IMs, 6 disconnections, 5 web crashes, 4 idiots at tech help, 3 error messages, 2 pieces of junk mail, and a jerk cursing in a chat room.
(we’ve all seen the 12 Days of Christmas reply letters from Agnes, but this version has a bit of a twist, enjoy)
12 Days of Christmas on the Bayou
Day - 1 Dear Boudreaux, Tanks for da bird in da Pear tree. I fixed it las’ night wit dirty rice. I doan tink da pear tree will grow in the swamp, so I swapped it for a Satsuma.
Day - 2 Dear Boudreaux, You letter say you sent two turtle doves, but all I got was two scrawny pigeons. Anyway, I mix them with andouille and made some gumbo out of dem.
Day - 3 Dear Boudreaux, Why doan you sent some crawfish. I’m tired of eating dem darn birds. I gave two of those prissy French chickens ta Marie Trahan over at Grand Bayou and fed the tird one ta ma dog, Phideaux. Marie needed some sparing partners for her fighting rooster.
Day - 4 Dear Boudreaux, Mon Dieux! I told you no more friggin’ birds. Deez four, what you call them calling birds were so noisy you could hear dem all da way ta Napoleonville. I used dere necks for ma crab traps, and fed da rest of dem ta dem dere ‘gators.
Day - 5 Dear Boudreaux, You finally sent something useful. I liked dem golden rings, me. I hocked dem at da pawn shop in Thibodeaux an’ got enuf money ta fix da shaft on my shrimp boat and buy a round for da boys at da Raisin’ Cane Lounge. Merci Beaucoup!
Day - 6 Dear Boudreaux, Couchon! Back to da birds, you turkey! Poor egg suckin’ Phideaux is scared ta death at dem six geeeses. He tried ta eat dems eggs and dey peck da heck out ah his snout. They good at eating cockroaches, though. I may stuff one of dem wit erster dressing on Christmas day.
Day - 7 Dear Boudreaux, I’m gonna wring your fool neck next time I see you. Thibeau, da mailman, is ready to kill you. The merde from all dem birds is stinkin’ up his mailboat. He afraid someone will slip on dat stuff and sue him good. I let those seven swans loose to swim on da bayou and some duck hunters from Mississippi blasted dem outta da water. Talk at you tomorrow.
Day - 8 Dear Boudreaux, Poor ole Thibeau had to make tree trips on his mailboat to deliver dem 8 maids a milkin and their cows. One of dem cows got spooked by da alligators and almost tipped over da boat. I doan like dem shiftless maids, me no. I tolt dem ta get ta work guttin fish and sweeping the shack but dey say it wasn’t in dair contract. Dey prob’ly think they too good ta skin dem nutrias I caught las night.
Day - 9 Dear Boudreaux, What you tryin’ to do Huh? Thibeau had ta borrow the Lutcher ferry ta carry them jumpin twits you call Lords-a-Leaping across the bayou. Soons dey gots here they wanted a tea break with crumpets. I doan know what dat means but I says, “Well La Di Da. You get Chicory coffee or nuttin.” Mon Dieu, Emile. What I’m gonna feed all dese bozos? They too snooty for fried nutria, and de cows ate ma turnip greens.
Day - 10 Dear Boudreaux, You got ta be outta your mind! If da mailman don’t kill you, I will for sure. Today he delivered 10 ‘alf nakid floozies from Bourbon Street. They said they be “Ladies Dancin” but they doan act like ladies in front of dose Limey twits. They almost left after one of dem got bit by a water moccasin over by ma out-house. I had to butcher 2 cows to feed toute le monde (everybody) and go get toilet paper. The Sears catalog wasn’t good
enuf for dose hoity toity lord’s royal behind.
Day - 11 Dear Boudreaux, Where Y’at. You 11 pipers piping arrives today from the House of Blues, second lining as dey got off da boat. We fix stuffed goose and beef jambalaya, finished da whiskey and we’re having a fais-do-do. The new mailman drank a bottle of Jack Daniels and he’s having a good time dancing with the floozies. The old mailman jumped off of the Sunshine Bridge yesterday, screaming your name. If you get a mysterious, tickin’ package in the mail, don’t open it.
Day - 12 Dear Boudreaux, I’m sorry to tell you but I am not your true love no more. After the fais-do-do, I spent da night planning with Jacque, the head piper. We decide to open a restaurant and gentleman’s club on the bayou. The floozies, pardon me, Ladies dancing can make $20 for a table dance, and the lords can be waiters and valet park de boats. Since the maids have no more cows to milk, I trained dem to set my crab traps, watch my trotlines, and run my shrimping business. We’ll probably gross a million dollars next year.
Toddler Property Laws
- If I like it, it’s mine.
- If it’s in my hand, it’s mine.
- If I can take it from you, it’s mine.
- If I had it a little while ago, it’s mine.
- If it’s mine, it must never appear to be yours in any way.
- If I’m doing or building something, all the pieces are mine.
- If it looks just like mine, it’s mine.
- If I think it’s mine, it’s mine.
- If I …
Oops! I’m sorry, I goofed. Instead of typing in the Toddler Property Laws, I’ve been typing in Bill Gates’ primary business plan.
Dr. Leroy, the head psychiatrist at the local mental hospital, is examining patients to see if they’re cured and ready to re-enter society.
“So, Mr. Clark,” the doctor says to one of his patients, “I see by your chart that you’ve been recommended for dismissal. Do you have any idea what you might do once you’re released?”
The patient thinks for a moment, then replies, “Well, I went to school for mechanical engineering. That’s still a good field, good money there. But on the other hand, I thought I might write a book about my experience here in the hospital, what it’s like to be a patient here. People might be interested in reading a book like that. In addition, I thought I might go back to college and study art history, which I’ve grown interested in lately.”
Dr. Leroy nods and says, “Yes, those all sound like intriguing possibilities.”
The patient replies, “And the best part is, in my spare time, I can go on being a teapot.”
The Top 15 Rejected Theme Songs for the Movie “Titanic”
- Under The Sea
- Dancing on the Ceiling
- Ice Ice Baby
- Smoke on the Water
- Breaking Up Is Hard To Do
- 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall… the Floor… the Ceiling… the Other Wall…
- Candle In The Water, 1912 (“Goodbye, English boat…”)
- When I’m Sixty-Four (Fahrenheit)
- Hey, You, Get Offa My Raft
- Achy Breaky Hull
and the Number 1 Rejected Theme Song for the Movie “Titanic”…
- Whoomp, There it Is!
[ This list copyright 1997 by Chris White and Ziff Davis, Inc. ] [ The Top Five List firstname.lastname@example.org http://www.topfive.com ]