Random Christmas things…

Lots of interesting tidbits HERE about Coke and Santa…

I wish all of you a Merry Christmas or your holiday of choice, and a healthy and joyful 2013.


 

As lights glitter in store windows, and carolers urge us to deck the halls, I encourage you to remember what’s most important: family, friends, and a grateful heart for all of the blessings we share.

Many in the armed forces will not have the luxury of spending time with loved ones this season. These brave American men and women in uniform will be doing their duty at sea or land, on the front lines and in harm’s way. I know their dedication and sacrifice is appreciated all year long, and never more than during the holiday season. I encourage all of us to continue keeping our Sailors, Marines, Soldiers and Airmen, both at home and abroad, in our thoughts and prayers.





Now stop reading this drivel and go enjoy the day!!! 

Santa’s Checkride…

Kick the tires, light the fires, first one in the air is lead, and brief on Guard… er… wrong checklist…

Gotta get that checkride in before tonight…



Can’t do a ‘regular’ military one… 🙂


Twas the Night before Christmas…


A few different 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!! 

A Different Santa Clause Story 
 ‘Twas the night before Christmas, and God it was neat 
 The kids were both gone, and my wife was in heat 
 The doors were all bolted, and the phone off the hook 
 It was time for some nooky, by hook or by crook. 
 Momma in her teddy, and I in the nude 
 Had just hit the bedroom and reached for the lube 
 When out on the lawn there arose such a cry, 
 That I lost my boner and poor momma went dry. 
 Up to the window I sprang like an elf, 
 Tore back the shade while she played with herself. 
 The moon on the crest of the snowman we’d built, 
 Showed a broom up his ass, clean up to the hilt. 
 When what to my wondering eyes should appear, 
 But a rusty old sleigh and eight mangy reindeer. 
 With a fat little driver, half out of his sled, 
 A sock in his ear, and a bra on his head. 
 Sure as I’m speaking, he was as high as a kite. 
 And he yelled to his team, but it didn’t sound right. 
 Whoa Shithead, whoa Asshole, whoa Stupid, whoa Putz, 
 Either slow down this rig or I’ll cut off your nuts. 
 Look out for the lamp post, and don’t hit the tree, 
 Quit shaking the sleigh, ’cause I gotta go pee. 
 They cleared the old lamp post, the tree got a rub, 
 Just as Santa leaned out and threw up on my shrub. 
 And then from the roof we heard such a clatter, 
 As each little reindeer now emptied his bladder. 
 I was donning my jacket to cover my ass, 
 When down the chimney Santa came with a crash. 
 His suit was all smelly with perfume galore, 
 He lookd like a bum and he smelled like a whore. 
 “That was some brothel,” he said with a smile, 
 “The reindeer are pooped, and I’ll just stay here awhile. 
 He walked to the kitchen, himself poured a drink, 
 Then whipped out his pecker and pissed in the sink. 
 I started to laugh, my wife smiled with glee, 
 The old boy was hung nearly down to his knee. 
 Back in the den, Santa reached in his sack, 
 But his toys were all gone, and some new things were packed. 
 The first thing he found was a pair of false tits, 
 The next was a handgun with a penis that spits. 
 A box filled with condoms was Santa’s next find, 
 And a six pair of panties, the edible kind. 
 A bra without nipples, a penis extension, 
 And several other things that I shouldn’t even mention. 
 A cock ring, a G-string, and all types of oil, 
 A dildo so long, it lay in a coil. 
 “This stuff ain’t for kids, Mrs. Santa will shit, 
 So I’ll leave ’em here, and then I’ll just split.” 
 He filled every stocking and then took his leave, 
 With one tiny butt plug tucked under his sleeve. 
 He sprang to his sleigh, but his feet were like lead, 
 Thus he fell on his ass and broke wind instead. 
 In time he was seated, took the reins of his hitch, 
 Saying, “Take me home Rudolph, this night’s been a bitch!” 
 The sleigh was near gone when we heard Santa shout, 
 “The best thing about sex is that it never wears out!” 

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! 

I was told this one was written by some language students at Howard University back in the late 90s… 

DE EBONICS CRIMMUS  POEM 
  
  Wuz de nite befo Crimmus; 
  And all ower da hood; 
  ereybody wuz’ sleepin’; 
  Dey wuz sleepin’ good. 
  
  We hunged up our stockings; 
  An hoped like de’ heck; 
  That old Santa Clause; 
  Be bringin’ our check. 
  
  All o’de fambily; 
  Wuz layin in de beds; 
  While Ripple and Thunderbird; 
  Danced through dey heads. 
  
  I passed out inna’ flo; 
  Right nex to my Maw; 
  When I heard sech a fuss; 
  I thunk: “It mus be de law!!!” 
  
  I looked out thru de bars; 
  What covered my doe; 
  ‘spectin’ de sheriff; 
  Wif a warrent fo sho. 
  
  And what did I see; 
  I said, “Lawd look at dat!!” 
  Ther’ wuz a huge watermellon; 
  Pulled by giant warf rats!! 
  
  Now ober all de years; 
  Santa Clause, he be white; 
  But looks liken us bros; 
  Gets a black Sanna dis nite. 
  
  Faster dan a Po’lees car; 
  My home boy he came; 
  He whupped on dem warf rats; 
  An’ called dem by name! 
  
  On Leroy, on ‘Lonzo ; 
  And on Willie Lee; 
  On Saphire, on Chenequa; 
  Dey wuz a site to see!! 
  
  As he landed dat watta’ mellon; 
  Out der in da skreet; 
  I knowed it was fo’ sho’; 
  Da damndest site I ebber did see. 
  
  He didn’t go down no chimbley; 
  He picked da’ lock on my doe; 
  An’ I sez to myself; 
  “S**t!! He done dis befoe!!!” 
  
  He had dis big bag; 
  Full of prezents I ‘xpect; 
  Wid Air Jordans and fake gold; 
  To wear roun’ my neck. 
  
  But he left no good prezents; 
  Jus started stealing my shit; 
  Got my drugs, got my guns, 
  Even got my burglar’s kit!! 
  
  Wit my stuff in de bag; 
  Out da window he flewed; 
  I woudda’ tried to catched him; 
  But he stoled my ‘nife too!! 
  
  He jumped on dat wadda’ mellon; 
  An’ whipped out a switch; 
  He wuz gone in a seccon’; 
  Dat son of a bitch!! 
  
  Next year I be hopin’: 
  Anutha Sanna we git; 
  Cuz’ diz here Sanna Clause; 
  Jus’ ain’t werf a s**t 

And this one is for the troops…

Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone 
  In a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone 
  I had come down the chimney with presents to give 
  And to see just who in this home did live 
  
  I looked all about, a strange sight I did see 
  No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree 
  No stocking by mantle, just boots filled with sand 
  On the wall hung pictures of far distant lands 
  
  With medals and badges, awards of all kinds 
  A sober thought did come through my mind 
  For this house was different, it was dark and dreary 
  I found the home of a soldier, once I could see clearly 
  
  The soldier lay sleeping, silent and alone 
  Curled up on the floor in this one bedroom home 
  The face was so gentle, the room in such disorder 
  Not how I pictured a United States soldier 
  
  Was this the hero of whom I’d just read? 
  Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed? 
  I realized the families that I saw this night 
  Owed their lives to these soldiers who were willing to fight 
  
  Soon round the world, the children would play 
  And grownups would celebrate a bright Christmas day 
  They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year 
  Because of the soldiers, like the one lying here 
  
  I couldn’t help wonder how many lay alone 
  On a cold Christmas eve in a land far from home 
  The very thought brought a tear to my eye 
  I dropped to my knees and started to cry 
  
  The soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice 
  Santa don’t cry, this life is my choice 
  I fight for freedom, I don’t ask for more 
  My life is my God, my Country, my Corps 
  
  The soldier rolled over and drifted to sleep 
  I couldn’t control it, I continued to weep 
  I kept watch for hours, so silent and still 
  And we both shivered from the cold nights chill 
  
  I didn’t want to leave on that cold, dark, night 
  This guardian of honor so willing to fight 
  Then the soldier rolled over, with a voice soft and pure 
  Whispered Carry on Santa, all is secure 
  
  One look at my watch and I knew he was right 
  Merry Christmas, my friend, and to all a good night 
  
  By:  Major Bruce Lovely, adopted from a similar poem 
  by Anonymous.

Santa is a WOMAN???


YMMV on this one…

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. 

h/t Vicki

Finally…

I FINALLY wore the puppy out…


Of course he is now hogging the remotes, sigh…

Now where’s the aspirin, I’m gonna need it for the shoulder…

And the daughter is laughing at me!  Can I go home now???

Pilots…

This one goes out to all those ‘bus drivers’ out there… 😀


The last power up… Endeavour one last time…  The full sequence can be seen HERE

PILOTS 

Pilots: People who drive airplanes for other people who can’t fly. 

Fighter Pilots: Cold, steely eyed, weapons systems managers who kill bad people and break things. However, they can also be very charming and personable. The average Fighter Pilot, despite sometimes having a swaggering exterior, is very much capable of such feelings as love, affection, intimacy and caring. These feelings just don’t involve anyone else. 

Words of Wisdom From Aviators: 

Flying is a hard way to earn an easy living. 

Both optimists and pessimists contribute to society. The optimist invents the airplane; the pessimist, the parachute. 


If helicopters are so safe, how come there are no vintage helicopter
fly-ins? 

Death is just nature’s way of telling you to watch your airspeed. 

Real planes use only a single stick to fly. This is why bulldozers and
helicopters­ (in that order) ­need two. 

There are only three things the copilot should ever say: 
1. Nice landing, Sir. 
2. I’ll buy the first round. 
3. I’ll take the fat one. 

As a pilot only two bad things can happen to you and one of them will:  
a. One day you will walk out to the aircraft knowing that it is your last flight.  
b. One day you will walk out to the aircraft not knowing that it is your last flight. 

There are Rules and there are Laws: 
The Rules are made by men who think that they know better how to fly your airplane than you. 
Laws (of Physics) were ordained by God. 
You can, and sometimes should, suspend the Rules, but you can never suspend the Laws. 

About Rules: 
a. The rules are a good place to hide if you don’t have a better idea and the talent to execute it. 
If you deviate from a rule, it must be a flawless performance (e.g., If you fly under a bridge, don’t hit the bridge.) 

The ideal pilot is the perfect blend of discipline and aggressiveness. 

The medical profession is the natural enemy of the aviation profession. 

Ever notice that the only experts who decree that the age of the pilot is over are people who have never flown anything? Also, in spite of the intensity of their feelings that the pilot’s day is over, I know of no expert who has volunteered to be a passenger in a non-piloted aircraft. 

Before each flight, make sure that your bladder is empty and your fuel tanks are full; check T/O wt…. 

He who demands everything that his aircraft can give him is a pilot; he that demands one iota more is a fool. 

There are certain aircraft sounds that can only be heard at night. 

The aircraft limits are only there in case there is another flight by that particular aircraft. If subsequent flights do not appear likely, there are no limits. 

Flying is a great way of life for men who want to feel like boys, but not for those who still are. 

“If the Wright brothers were alive today, Wilbur would have to fire Orville to reduce costs.” President, DELTA Airlines. 

In the Alaskan bush I’d rather have a two-hour bladder and three hours of gas than vice versa. 

It’s not that all airplane pilots are good-looking. It’s just that
good-looking people seem more capable of flying airplanes. 

An old pilot is one who can remember when flying was dangerous and sex was safe. 

Airlines have really changed, now a flight attendant can gets a pilot
pregnant. 

I’ve flown in both pilot seats, can someone tell me why the other one is always occupied by an idiot? 

Son, you’re going to have to make up your mind about growing up and becoming a pilot. You can’t do both. 

There are only two types of aircraft­ – fighters and targets. 

The scientific theory I like best is that the rings of Saturn are composed entirely of lost airline baggage. 

You define a good flight by negatives: you didn’t get hijacked, you didn’t crash, you didn’t throw up, you weren’t late, and you weren’t nauseated by the food. So you’re grateful. 

They invented wheelbarrows to teach FAA inspectors to walk on their hind legs. 

The FAA Motto: We’re not happy till you’re not happy. 

Experience is something you don’t get until just after you need it. 

h/t JP

Back to being a leaning post and playtoy…

Situation normal at the daughter’s house…

Damn dog is doing the usual things, pulled out all his ‘toys’ is dropping them in my lap, expects to have them thrown…

And I get up to wash off the slobber, and he decides to come over and ‘lean’ on me…


He’s leaning so hard he actually fell over… And I’m bracing to keep from being knocked over.

It’s gonna be a long week!

And he just slobbered all over the mouse… sigh…

Go Read

Larry Corriea has a GREAT post up on the whole gun control argument HERE.  Larry has done a better job or articulating the points than just about anything I’ve seen!

Thanks Larry!

NRA response to Newtown…

Just listened to the NRA presser, there was the obligatory little old lady making the usual screamed comments, blood on your hands, ban guns, etc…

The money quote as far as I’m concerned from Lapierre- “The only thing that stops a bad guy with a gun is a GOOD guy with a gun.”

Among other points covered, the need for a national database for mental illness, lack of prosecution of criminals involved in gun crimes, Feds cutting school security programs, and an online game I didn’t even know existed (Kindergarten killers)…

NRA putting together a team of security experts led by Asa Hutchinson to provide a model security plan for schools.  To be modular, and fit all sizes of schools.  Multiple elements- armed security, local volunteers, low cost to state and federals since the Feds cut funding.  And the NRA will sponsor it… 

Um… Er…

There is ‘something’ wrong with this forecast…


But then they ARE weatherguessers… 

And you gotta love the Marines…  An ‘honest’ license plate…


On the road to see the kids for Christmas, y’all stay safe if you’re travelling, and if you’re not, stay safe anyway!!!