Having slept very little, I initially read that as one sentence. I am currently in an airport, trying to get to northern Texas. And while I want to see my parents, there is certainly a part of me that is convinced my reason has escaped me, to be sitting (potentially futilely) in this snow-covered airport, trying to make a flight on Christmas Eve.

(I'm practicing not lurking. This is, I think, my second comment.)

And welcome to Bether from another mostly-lurker.

Q. How many chimneys does Santa go down, anyway?

A. Stacks!

(I wanted this post to be a Christmas present -- you have to open it.)

A. He comes only once a year, and then it's down the chimney...

After hearing about this extravagant gift, a friend of his said, "I thought she wanted one of those sporty four-wheel-drive vehicles."

"She did," he replied. "But where was I going to find a fake Jeep?"

For your enjoyment (I hope!): "Whip of the Red Hunter"

And if, like me, you mistrust tinyurl links, try this one: "Whip of the Red Hunter" (tinyurl preview link)

A very merry ChannuKwanzSolstMas to you all!

You better not shout, you better not cry
You better not pout: I'm tellin' you why:
Santa Claus has just bought the farm.

The boys in the Morgue have checked him out twice.
They tell us that he's on permanent ice.
Santa Claus has just bought the farm.

The cops say he and wifey had had a little tiff
But how can we have Christmas
If Santa is a stiff?

and so on.

Merry Christmas, Joyous Feast of Lights, Happy Festival of the Sun's Return, and like that, all.

O Christmas tree, o Christmas tree,
We'll chop off all your branches.
O Christmas tree, o Christmas tree,
We'll chop off all your branches.
And cut you up for firewood,
So maybe you will do some good.
O Christmas tree, o Christmas tree,
We'll chop off all your branches.

My father used to sing that one. Also sang "A Visit from St. Nick" to the tune of "On Top of Old Smokey".

Wonderful. I left him a comment, and thank you so much for sharing it here where I could find it.

#13, Anne -

I won't try it. Really I won't try it. Really. (I'm not convinced yet, I may have to say it a few more times....)

My father's contribution to Christmas weirdness was a simple "Shouldn't have eaten so much sash," at the appropriate point in the same poem. I'm trying to memorize the whole thing now, and I suspect my delivery will always have a pause in it just long enough for me to say that, even if it is only to myself.

I also loved the Hill country of West Texas. Every time we drove down, the drive got less boring to me (much like the I-80 drive east to Omaha did), and the more familiar and welcome the landmarks, buildings, and signs became. Dumas, formerly Ding-Dong-Daddyville; Dimmit (dammit!) and small towns that managed to have the only open gas station right when we needed it. I made it down for a last visit in 2007 as my parents were packing to move from Kerrville to Escanaba, MI, and was able to detour for a farewell drive, stopping at the marvelously cluttered Frontier Times Museum in Bandera, then driving past the ranch where Grand-dad used to raise Angus cattle. Goodbye, gentle hills. Farewell, graceful trees that bow over the roads.

Kill the turkeys, ducks and chickens,
Stoke the fire, drag out the Dickens,
Even though the prospect sickens,
Brother, here we go again!

On Christmas Day you can't get sore
Your fellow man you must adore
There's time to rob him all the more,
The other three hundred and sixty-four...

Relations sparing no expense'll
Send some useless old utensil
Or a matching pen and pencil!
Just the thing I need! How nice.

It doesn't matter how sincere it
Is, or how heartfelt the spirit;
Sentiment will not endear it,
What's important is THE PRICE.

-- Tom Lehrer

(ajay, played by Jimmy Stewart, runs crazily off down the main street of Making Light as the snow thickens...)

Merry Christmas, Fluorosphere! Merry Christmas, puns! Merry Christmas, moderators! Merry Christmas, emergency medicine! Merry Christmas, knitting! Merry Christmas, trolls! Merry Christmas, Cthulhu! Merry Christmas, dinosaurs! Merry Christmas... oh dear...

It's already nearly 9am Christmas morning where I am*.

*Pictures Christmas morning dawning across the globe.

(and some mistletoe...)

*The Garífuna of Nicaragua speak Western Caribbean Creole English, which the Creoles of Bluefield call "Creole" and the majority of people who speak it, being Jamaicans, call "Patwa".

We usually have to drive to see my family in Texas, too, and about halfway there, my husband is already drooling for a bacon cheeseburger from Braums. "Is that in Dalhart, or Dumas?"

287 goes right by my teeny little town, but there's absolutely no reason to go through it. We actually missed it one time, because a Sonic had opened right by the overpass, and MY town didn't have a Sonic.

He'll eat up all your turkey
He'll eat your tinsel too
And all he leaves on Christmas day
Is a pile of shiny poo.

(Children have been at home since the 12th. Today is the first day of Christmas vacation. I offer no other excuse)

My brother always used to sing "Mary's noggin, pa-rum-pum-pum-pum."

And my mother has twice this season told people who are complete strangers to me that I used to sing "O Pissmas Pee, O Pissmas Pee" when I was small. My parents never embarrassed me when I was a teenager; why have they started now? (Of course, I am telling the whole internet. Maybe it will shortcircuit the blackmail if everyone knows.)

Because we live in the future, we are streaming our iTunes Christmas playlist through our stereo and controlling it from anywhere in the house using our cell phones.

We have had "I'm Dreaming of a Dead City" and the Vandals' cover of "Here I Am, Lord" so far. We take a slightly cracked approach to Christmas carols in this house.

Black, black mood here, kicked off by a headache that lingered all day, punctuated by constant interruptions. It took me two hours to get through all the requests from the kids that needed meeting before I could go to the store.

Bleh.

Merry Christmas, all; may it beat the heck out of Christmas Eve.

The Monarch and Dr. Girlfriend Sing Little Drummer Boy

Joy to the Whirled!

He gets Claustrophobia!

Mary snarled at me
Pa-rum-pa-rum-pum
I had the Kid asleep
Pa-rum-pa-rum-pum
You woke Him up, you creep
Pa-rum-pa-rum-pum
I had him fast asleep
Pa-rum-pa-rum-pum, rum-pa-pa-pum, rum-pa-pa-pum
So get out of here
Pa Rum-pa-rum-pum
You and your drum.

"Good king Wences backed his car
On a piece of Stephen"

I dont recall the rest, and it wasn't a complete verse, as I recall. 30 years on and I still recall it.

Kip @15 - the drive to Omaha on 80 or 29 has never been anything but boring, even when the people at the gas station just south of the border recognized me in and out of garb.

Merry Christmas, all.

Kip @15 - the drive to Omaha on 80 or 29 has never been anything but boring, even when the people at the gas station just south of the border recognized me in and out of garb.

Merry Christmas, all.

I've heard comedy group The Sheryls doing a christmas number which started off with...

"Come I told him
Come - but not up my bum.
Not my rec - tum"

... and did not become noticably more tasteful after that point. Merry christmas to all.

When I heard this news, I immediately broke into song, wishing them both a "Fleas Navidad!"

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good morning, ideally with relatively few fleas involved!

Best wishes to all.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good morning, ideally with relatively few fleas involved!

*ROTFL* Thank you for adding a fine giggle to my current situation, which is indeed a "Fleas Navidad" :D

We've no idea yet where from, however.

Pixelfish, #29: My all-time favorite "Little Drummer Boy" is the Gary Hoey version, with sitar and Indian raga rhythms. It's quite spoiled me for any other version except the Roches'.

Hope everyone is having an enjoyable Christmas Day.

That's the only Braum's in the whole state that he likes, and the only thing he's ever had is the bacon cheeseburger. Never had the ice cream;)

Then there's Henry's in San Angelo. Every time someone dies, and we have to go to the funeral down that way, the first thought is, "Oh, no." The second is "Henry's!"

My big present was a new computer with a 22-inch flatscreen monitor (my old one was oooold, and tended to spontaneously restart at the worst moments) and I feel like a cat in front of an aquarium. Back and forth, back and--What was that? Word documents look obscenely huge.

Good tidings we bring,
With a whole lot of strings,
Good tidings for Wishmas and a Yappy Hoo Near!

Ten o’clock on Christmas morn and all the guests are coming to the door;
Ten o’clock on Christmas morn and Uncle John’s already on the floor.
Though the weather’s bitter cold there’s not a frown to mar the festive mood;
Wait ’til they discover that old Uncle John has eaten all the food.

Happy all festivals of twilkly lights in the dark of the (northern) year to all!

Also:

You better watch out; you better not cry;
You better not pout; I'm telling you why:
Santa Claus is buying
A gun.

Doesn't your car have a CD or cassette player?

Also, the common Christmas music that appears in stores and such is mostly not very good. There's some wonderful Christmas music out there, but the stuff in stores is mood music intended to convince people to buy more stuff, while not irritating too many people so much that they go to another store. (This also runs to Christmas decorations--I don't think I've ever seen a store that wasn't explicitly Christian have a Nativity scene, for example, but lots do Christmas Trees and Santas, because non-Christians and not-very-churchy Christians mostly won't be turned off by a Christmas Tree and a Santa.)

To steal a quote from someone on the net (maybe Keith Lynch) talking about public education, the best way to get people to dislike candy is to force-feed them lots and lots of really low-quality candy.