For versions…

HO HO HO!
T’was the night before Christmas – Old Santa was pissed
He cussed out the elves and threw down his list
Miserable little brats, ungrateful little jerks
I have a good mind to scrap the whole works

I’ve busted my ass for damn near a year
Instead of “Thanks Santa” – what do I hear
The old lady bitches cause I work late at night
The elves want more money – The reindeer all fight

Rudolph got drunk and goosed all the maids
Donner is pregnant and Vixen has AIDS
And just when I thought that things would get better
Those assholes from IRS sent me a letter

They say I owe taxes – if that ain’t damn funny
Who the hell ever sent Santa Clause any money
And the kids these days – they all are the pits
They want the impossible …Those mean little shits

I spent a whole year making wagons and sleds Assembling dolls…Their arms,
legs and heads I made tons of yo yo’s

No request for them They want
computers and robots…they think I’m IBM!

If you think that’s bad…just picture this
Try holding those brats…with their pants full of piss
They pull on my nose – they grab at my beard
And if I don’t smile…their moms think I’m weird

Flying through the air…dodging the trees
Falling down chimneys and skinning my knees
I’m quitting this job…there’s just no enjoyment
I’ll sit on my fat ass and draw unemployment

There’s no Christmas this year…now you know the reason
I found me a blonde.. I’m going SOUTH for the season!!
——–
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 Christmas in Yonkers

‘Twas the night before Christmas,
Da whole house was mella,
Not a creature was stirrin’,
Cuz I had a gun unda da pilla.

When up on da roof
I heard somethin’ pound,
I sprung to da window,
To scream, “YO! Keep it down!”

When what to my
Wanderin’ eyes should appear,
But da Don of all elfs,
And eight friggin’ reindeer!

Wit’ slicked back black hair,
And a silk red suit,
Don Christopher wuz here,
And he brought da loot!

Wit’ a slap to dare snouts,
And a yank on dare manes,
He cursed and he shouted,
And he called dem by name.

“Yo Tony, Yo Frankie,
Yo Vinny, Yo Vito,
Ay Joey, Ay Paulie,
Ay Pepe, Ay Guido!”

As I drew out my gun
And hid by da bed,
He flew troo da winda
And slapped me up side da head.

“What da hell you doin’
Pullin’ a gun on da Don?
Now all you’re gettin’ is coal,
You friggin’ moron!”

Den pointin’ a fat finga
Right unda my nose,
He twisted his pinky ring,
And up da chimney he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh,
Obscenities screamin’,
Away dey all flew,
Before he troo dem a beatin’.

Den I heard him yell out,
Two, tree times, I expect
“Merry Friggin’ Christmas to all,
And you’s better show some respect!