I wrote this like 15 years ago... floated it around a bit when i got my first internet connection. Every once in a while it comes back--a few lines changed here and there. Such is the internet.
Anyway, enjoy! And ho-ho-ho. I'm chillin' for the next couple days. Merry Christmas, y'all.
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'Twas the Night Before Christmas...
Originally written 1995
'Twas the night before Christmas and Santa's a wreck...
Because he just realized that Christmas--like society at large
must now be politically correct.
His workers no longer will not tolerate the demeaning classification of "Elves".
"Vertically Challenged" they’re now calling themselves.
And labor 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 nice folks at 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 boy-oh boy did that look stupid!
The runners had been removed from Santa’s 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 roof-tops.
Second-hand smoke from his pipe left his workers
fearing cancer, quite frightened.
They also said his red suit smelled of communism
and made him seem “unenlightened”.
And to show you the strangeness of life's ebbs and flows,
Rudolf up and sued St. Nick--over unauthorized use of his nose.
Then Rudolf and with his lawyer/agent went on Geraldo,
and in front of the nation,
demanded millions in over-due compensation.
By now, 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 to be referred to as “Ms.”
And as for the presents, why, he'd ne'er had a notion
That making a choice of gifts could cause so much commotion.
Nothing of leather, and definitely not 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 clamored 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, scary or graphic.
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 the “special” Ken and Barbie—better off hidden.
For they raised the hackles of those psychological
Who claimed the only good gift was one that was educational--
or at the very least, ecological.
No baseball, no football--somebody might get hurt;
Besides, playing sports exposed kids to dirt.
Dolls were said to be sexist, and should be passe;
And Nintendo was proven to rot your entire brain away.
So when all was said and done,
Santa was left standing alone, disheveled, perplexed;
trying to 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;
For no fully, equally acceptable gifts could 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... especially you.
So here’s what Santa came with
(by the way, he’s now “The Artist formerly known as S.C.”
And with all the crap he went through this year, he wants all to know
this is the last Christmas that he’ll be working for free)
Anyway, here’s the gift he settled on
It’s a good one—priced beyond worth:
"God is so good that he gave you the gift of his Son
that you may live in peace and happiness forever now and long after you leave this earth."
