Post a Christmas Joke Ye Like Here,a ton of Christmas jokes to read

I'VE HAD CHRISTMAS UP TO HERE!



Who ordered all this nauseating cheer?
I've had Christmas up to here!
I'm mad and I'm not gonna take it anymore.
So here's the little plot I've got in store:

Up on the roof with nails and saws,
I'll build a trap for Santa Claus,
And when he lands in that hokey slay
I'll make this Christmas crud go away.

Ho Ho Ho, you'd better know
I've got a way to make it so!
Up on the housetop click, click, click
Throw a big bag over old Saint Nick!

Down from the roof top out in back
Santa, Reindeer, sleigh and pack,
Watch his Yuletide spirits droop
With juggles locked in the chicken coop.

Ho Ho Ho, you've gotta know
Fatso's tied up head to toe!
This little plan will work because
I'm gonna kidnap Santa Claus!

All of you kiddies are out of luck.
This year's Christmas one dead duck.
Let all the little brats scream and shout
I ain't never letting Fatso out!

Ho Ho Ho, won't let him go.
Not for even tons of dough!
I can't dream of a scene so nice
When I go and put Fuzzy Face on ice!

Bye bye to sleigh bells that gave me grief.
Bye bye to caroling what a relief.
Best of all that blasted cheer
Won't be annoying me again next year!

Ho Ho Ho, now you know
Dear old Santa has to go!
Without Fatso it's understood
Christmas is history and gone for good!

 

WHY SANTA IS A WOMAN



I think Santa Claus is a woman.......

I hate to be the one to defy sacred myth, but I believe he's a she. Think about it. Christmas is a big, organized, warm, fuzzy, nurturing social deal, and I have a tough time believing a guy could possibly pull it all off!

For starters, the vast majority of men don't even think about selecting gifts until Christmas Eve. Once at the mall, they always seem surprised to find only Ronco products, socket wrench sets, and mood rings left on the shelves. On this count alone, I'm convinced Santa is a woman. Surely, if he were a man, everyone in the universe would wake up Christmas morning to find a rotating musical Chia Pet under the tree, still in the bag.

Another problem for a he-Santa would be getting there. First of all, there would be no reindeer because they would all be dead, gutted and strapped on to the rear bumper of the sleigh amid wide-eyed, desperate claims that buck season had been extended. Blitzen's rack would already be on the way to the taxidermist.

Even if the male Santa DID have reindeer, he'd still have transportation problems because he would inevitably get lost up there in the snow and clouds and then refuse to stop and ask for directions.

Other reasons why Santa can't possibly be a man:
-Men can't pack a bag.
-Men would rather be dead than caught wearing red velvet.
-Men would feel their masculinity is threatened having to be seen with all those elves.
-Men don't answer their mail.
-Men would refuse to allow their physique to be described even in jest as anything remotely resembling a "bowlful of jelly."
-Men aren't interested in stockings unless somebody's wearing them.
-Having to do the Ho Ho Ho thing would seriously inhibit their ability to pick up women.

Finally, being responsible for Christmas would require a commitment. I can buy the fact that other mythical holiday characters are men.......
-Father Time shows up once a year unshaven and looking ominous. Definite guy.
-Cupid flies around carrying weapons.
-Uncle Sam is a politician who likes to point fingers.

Any one of these individuals could pass the testosterone screening test. But not St. Nick. Not a chance.

 

TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE A REDNECK CHRISTMAS



It was the night before Christmas,
and all through the trailer park,
not a pop-top was poppin',
not even Ole Blue barked.

Our stockin's was hung
over the space heater with care,
in the hopes that Santy
would fill 'em with Viennas and beer.

The kids was asleep
in their NASCAR pj's,
Dreamin' of Goo Goo Clusters,
Moon Pies, and Milkyway's.

And Earlene in her curlers
and me in my Earnhardt cap,
had just settled into our La-Z-Boys
for Wheel of Fortune and a nap.

Then out in the vacant lot
I heard such a commotion,
I thought it was neighbor Clyde,
finally got his T'bird in motion.

I heaved out of my recliner
and to the window I flew,
Busted out the screen
and hollered to Ole Blue.

The moon was shinin down
on my old wrecked cars,
so bright they was sparklin'
like rusty old stars.

And I couldn't believe
my own hardworkin' eyes,
when a jacked-up Chevy pickup
come flyin' through the sky!

Faster'n Ole Ironhead
his possums they came,
and he whooped and hollered
and called 'em by name:

"Git up Sooner! Hi Duke!
Move yer tails Yaller and Spud!
On Blackie! On Queenie!
You mind me Duchess and Bud!"

"To the top of the satellite dish!
To the top of the shed!
Now move it n' Step on it!
Ya'll get out the lead!"

You know how on our old road
whenev'r a car goes by,
there's all this dirt
that flies up into the sky?

That's how this crew
went straight on up to my roof,
with that pickup full of toys,
a real nice gun rack, and Redneck Santa too.

Then 'fore I could pop my teeth in
I heerd up on the tin,
the scrabbling around
of them flying possums of his'n.

I yanked my head back in the trailer
and hitched up my shorts,
Down the dryer vent Redneck Santa came
with a grunt and a snort!

He was dressed in red-and-green camo
from his neck to his feet,
and I had to give him credit
he still had most of his teeth.

Looked like stuff from Earlene's yard sale
slung on his back,
There was flyswatters an' Tupperware,
an' 8-tracks stickin' out of his pack.

When he winked his eye
I knew fer sure he'd treat us right,
why he just might even
leave me some ammo tonight!

I stood there dreamin' of a whitetail
while I watched him work,
then he stopped and like a real man,
let out a fart and a burp.

He topped off our stockin's
with Moon Pies and bottle rockets,
then squoze up that dryer vent
like Spam in your pocket.

He jumped in his pickup,
laid down on the horn,
And I'm not lyin',
they took off with their possum tails flyin'.

But I heard him holler
as he headed for the 7-11,
"Merry Christmas to all!
And may all rednecks get into heav'n!"

 

A CHRISTMAS NOTE FROM MOM



Dear Darling Son and That Person You Married:

Merry Christmas to you and please don't worry. I'm just fine considering that I can't breathe or eat. The important thing is that you have a nice holiday, thousands of miles away from your ailing mother. I've sent along my last ten dollars in this card, which I hope you'll spend on my grandchildren. God knows their mother never buys them anything nice. They look so thin in their pictures, poor babies.

Thank you so much for the Christmas flowers, dear boy. I put them in the freezer so they'll stay fresh for my grave. Which reminds me -- we buried Grandma last week. I know she died years ago, but I got to yearning for a good funeral so Aunt Viola and I dug her up and had the services all over again. I would have invited you but I know that woman you live with would have never let you come. I bet she's never even watched that videotape of my hemorrhoid surgery, has she?

Well son, it's time for me to crawl off to bed now. I lost my cane beating off muggers last week, but don't you worry about me. I'm also getting used to the cold since they turned my heat off and am grateful because the frost on my bed numbs the constant pain. Now don't you even think about sending any more money because I know you need it for those expensive family vacations you take every year. Give my love to my darling grandbabies and my regards to whatever-her-name-is -- the one with the black roots who stole you screaming from my bosom.

Merry Christmas.

Love, Mom

 

A COOL CHRISTMAS



'Twas the night before Christmas and all thru the pad,
Not a hep cat was swinging and that's nowhere, dad.
The stove was hung up in that stocking routine,
Like, maybe the fat man would soon make the scene.

The kids that fell by had just made the street;
I was ready for Snoresville, and man, was I beat.
When there started a rumble that came on real frantic,
So I opened the window to figure the panic.

I saw a slick rod that was making fat tracks,
Souped up by eight ponies, all wearing hat racks;
And a funny old geezer was flipping his lid.
He told them to make it, and man, like they did!

They were out of the chute, making time like a bat,
Turning the quarter in eight seconds flat.
They parked by the smokestack in bunches and clusters,
And Chubby slid down, coming on like gangbusters.

His threads were from Cubesville and I had to chuckle,
In front, not in back, was his Ivy league buckle!
And the mop on his chin had a button-down collar,
And with that red nose he looked like a baller.

Like he was the squarest, the most absolute,
But let's face it, who cares when he left all that loot?
He laid the jazz on me and peeled from the gig,
Wailing, "Have a cool Yule, Man!" and clutched off in his rig.

 

HOLIDAY MEMORANDUM



To: All Employees
From: Management
Subject: Office conduct during the Christmas season

Effective immediately, employees should keep in mind the following guidelines in compliance with FROLIC (the Federal Revelry Office and Leisure Industry Council).

1. Running aluminum foil through the paper shredder to make tinsel is discouraged.

2. Playing Jingle Bells on the push-button phone is forbidden (it runs up an incredible long distance bill).

3. Work requests are not to be filed under "Bah humbug."

4. Company cars are not to be used to go over the river and through the woods to Grandma's house.

5. All fruitcake is to be eaten BEFORE July 25.

6. Egg nog will NOT be dispensed in vending machines.

In spite of all this, the staff is encouraged to have a Happy Holiday.

 

MERRY CHRISTMAS ALL,FROM ME IRELAND


THE DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS



It's a week after Christmas, I'm crabby and I'm broke.
I'm so full of ham and fruitcake, I think I'm gonna croak!
It's nice to see the relatives. I wonder when they'll leave?
They've been camping in my bathroom since early Christmas Eve.

They're eating everything in sight and sleeping in my bed.
I been sacked out in the basement with my old beagle Fred.
The relatives have all gone out and left their screaming brats.
The toilet bowl is all plugged up and I can't find the cat!

It's Christmastime at my house, the relatives are here.
They eat me out of house and home and drink up all my beer.
I love the decorations and the sleigh bells in the snow,
But I wish those pesky relatives would take their kids and go!

Those cookie crunchers fed the dog a twenty pound rib roast.
His feet are sticking in the air like skinny old fence posts.
Now they're in a free-for-all the girls against the boys.
They're fighting over boxes 'cause they're bored with all their toys.

My mother-in-law is snoring in my favorite TV chair.
Those kids are stringing lights on her and tinseling her hair.
I oughta wake her up before the fireworks begin,
But I wanna see those blue sparks fly when they plug her in!

I love the decorations and the sleigh bells in the snow,
But I wish those pesky relatives would take their kids and go!

 

It was coming up to Christmas and Sammy asked his mum if he could have a new bike. So, she told him that the best idea would be to write to Santa Claus. But Sam, having just played a vital role in the school nativity play, said he would prefer to write to the baby Jesus. So his mum told him that would be fine.
Sam went to his room and wrote ' Dear Jesus, I have been a very good boy and would like to have a bike for Christmas.' But he wasn't very happy when he read it over. So he decided to try again and this time he wrote 'Dear Jesus, I'm a good boy most of the time and would like a bike for Christmas.' He read it back and wasn't happy with that one either. He tried a third version. 'Dear Jesus, I could be a good boy if I tried hard and especially if I had a new bike.' He read that one too, but he still wasn't satisfied.
So, he decided to go out for a walk while he thought about a better approach. After a short time he passed a house with a small statue of the Virgin Mary in the front garden. He crept in, stuffed the statue under his coat, hurried home and hid it under the bed. Then he wrote this letter. 'Dear Jesus, If you want to see your mother again, you'd better send me a new bike.'

 

@ireland
Man you have the Christmas Spirit, Or have you been into the Christmas Spirits?

 

Silly but fun for the kids
What goes HO! HO! HO! THUD:- Father Christmas laughing his head off