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Jokes About Religions

www.iselong.com 作者:

  1. And now, a letter from Santa.

    Dear _________________,

     I recently got your Christmas list, but there's a few problems with it. I'd like to review them with you, if I could...
     Firstly, the twelve drummers drumming are having a bit of a spat with the eleven pipers piping -- so much so, that they've completely ruined my toy shop.
     The ten lords a-leaping have knocked up the eight maids a-milking, and the nine ladies dancing all got VD.
     I'm up to my ass in bird shit from the seven swans a-swimming, six geese a-laying, four colly birds, three french hens, two turtle doves, and that damn partidge.
     The five golden rings turned my fingers green.
     To top it all off, Mrs. Claus is going through menopause, my reindeer are in heat, my dwarves have filed a petition with the ACLU for gay rights, and I have your Christmas scheduled for February.
     Merry fucking Christmas,
     Santa

  2. A Politically Correct Night Before Christmas

    'Twas the night before Christmas and Santa's a wreck.
    How to live in a world that's politically correct?
    His workers no longer would answer to Elves,
    Vertically Challenged they were 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 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 you know that looked stupid!
    The runners had been removed from his 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 had his workers quite frightened.
    His fur trimmed red suit was called Unenlightened.
    And to show you the strangeness of life's ebbs and flows,
    Rudolf was suing over unauthorized use of his nose
    And had gone on Geraldo, in front of the nation,
    Demanding millions in over-due compensation.
    So, 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 her title was Ms.
    And as for the gifts, why, he'd ne'er had a notion
    That making a choice could cause so much commotion.
    Nothing of leather, nothing of 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 or non-pacific.
    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 Ken and Barbie, better off hidden.
    For they raised the hackles of those psychological
    Who claimed the only good gift was one ecological.
    No baseball, no football -- someone could get hurt;
    Besides, playing sports exposed kids to dirt.
    Dolls were said to be sexist, and should be passe;
    And Nintendo would rot your entire brain away.
    So Santa just stood there, disheveled, perplexed;
    He just could not 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;
    Nothing fully acceptable was to 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, even you.
    So here is that gift, it's price beyond worth.
    May you and your loved ones enjoy peace on earth.


    Notice:

    This poem is copyright 1992 by Harvey Ehrlich. It is free to
    distribute, without changes, as long as this notice remains intact.

  3. Q: How many Christians does it take to change a light bulb?
    A: Three, but they're really only one.

  4. We were all in Chartres to see the famous Gothic cathedral there. Elizabeth mentioned that during both World Wars the exquisite stained glass windows were taken down piece by piece and stored to protect them from damage. Greg replied, "Wow! That must have been a very panes-taking process!"

  5. At the conclusion of a church service, three young members of the congregation met outside and began to introduce themselves. "I'm Paul," the first said, "but I'm no apostle."

    "My name's Peter," the second said, "but I'm no saint."

    "Well, my name's Mary," the third said, "and I don't know what to say."

  6. A young man applied for a job, bringing with him glowing
    references from his minister and a dozen elders in the church. The
    prospective employer nodded with pleasure at the written statements,
    but said, "These are very nice. Could you get one from somebody who
    knows you on weekdays?"

  7. But why did the chicken cross the road again?
    Because it was a double-crosser.

  8. Two nuns are driving home one dark and stormy night when suddenly, WHAM!, A vampire lands right on the hood of their car. His eyes are gleaming yellow, and his razor-sharp fangs dripping with blood. The nun who is driving screams to the other "SHOW HIM YOUR CROSS!" so the other nun leans out the window and yells "GET THE HELL OFF OUR WINDSHIELD!"

  9. Why did the chicken cross the beach?
    To get to the other tide.

  10. What do you get when you cross a chick with an alley cat?
    A peeping tom.

  11. Why did the chicken cross the basketball court?
    Because it heard the referee was blowing fouls.

  12. Why did Jim Morrison cross the road?
    To break on through to the other side.

  13. Why do programmers always get Christmas and Halloween mixed up?
    Because DEC 25 = OCT 31

  14. Then there is this item about Jim Kloker, a farmer near Arenzville, Illinois. He had a concrete deer permanently placed in his front yard. Areal deer came into his yard, mounted the concrete deer and made love to it. This is undoubtedly a case of statutory rape! The deer would not go away and was diligent in his efforts, mounting the statue time after time. Finally, exhausted, the deer left, slowly and with deliberation. The buck was spent, but the doe was saved!

  15. Downsizing at the North Pole...

    MEMORANDUM

    Seasons Greetings

    The recent announcement that Donner and Blitzen have elected to take the early reindeer retirement package has triggered a good deal of concern about whether they will be replaced, and about other restructuring decisions at the North Pole.

    Streamlining was appropriate in view of the reality that the North Pole no longer dominates the season's gift distribution business. Home shopping channels and mail order catalogues have diminished Santa's market share and he could not sit idly by and permit further erosion of the profit picture.

    The reindeer downsizing was made possible through the purchase of a late model Japanese sled for the CEO's annual trip. Improved productivity from Dasher and Dancer, who summered at the Harvard Business School, is anticipated and should take up the slack with no discernible loss of service. Reduction in reindeer will also lessen airborne environmental emissions for which the North Pole has been cited and received unfavorable press.

    I am pleased to inform you and yours that Rudolph's role will not be disturbed. Tradition still counts for something at the North Pole. Management denies, in the strongest possible language, the earlier leak that Rudolph's nose got that way not from the cold, but from substance abuse. Calling Rudolph "a lush who was into the sauce and never did pull his share of the load" was an unfortunate comment, made by one of Santa's helpers and taken out of context at a time of year when he is known to be under executive stress.

    As a further restructuring, today's global challenges require the North Pole to continue to look for better, more competitive steps. Effective immediately, the following economy measures are to take place in the "Twelve Days of Christmas" subsidiary:

    The partridge will be retained, but the pear tree never turned out to be the cash crop forecasted. It will be replaced by a plastic hanging plant, providing considerable savings in maintenance.

    The two turtle doves represent a redundancy that is simply not cost effective. In addition, their romance during working hours could not be condoned. The positions are therefore eliminated.

    [The three French hens will remain intact. After all, everyone loves the French.]

    The four calling birds were replaced by an automated voice mail system, with a call waiting option. An analysis is underway to determine who the birds have been calling, how often and how long they talked.

    The five golden rings have been put on hold by the Board of Directors. Maintaining a portfolio based on one commodity could have negative implications for institutional investors. Diversification into other precious metals as well as a mix of T-Bills and high technology stocks appear to be in order.

    The six geese-a-laying constitutes a luxury which can no longer be afforded. It has long been felt that the production rate of one egg per goose per day is an example of the decline in productivity. Three geese will be let go, and an upgrading in the selection procedure by personnel will assure management that from now on every goose it gets will be a good one.

    The seven swans-a-swimming is obviously a number chosen in better times. The function is primarily decorative. Mechanical swans are on order. The current swans will be retrained to learn some new strokes and therefore enhance their outplacement.

    As you know, the eight maids-a-milking concept has been under heavy scrutiny by the EEOC. A male/female balance in the workforce is being sought. The more militant maids consider this a dead-end job with no upward mobility. Automation of the process may permit the maids to try a-mending, a-mentoring or a-mulching.

    Nine ladies dancing has always been an odd number. This function will be phased out as these individuals grow older and can no longer do the steps.

    Ten Lords-a-leaping is overkill. The high cost of Lords plus the expense of international air travel prompted the Compensation Committee to suggest replacing this group with ten out-of-work congressmen. While leaping ability may be somewhat sacrificed, the savings are significant because we expect an oversupply of unemployed congressmen this year.

    Eleven pipers piping and twelve drummers drumming is a simple case of the band getting too big. A substitution with a string quartet, a cutback on new music and no uniforms will produce savings which will drop right down to the bottom line.

    We can expect a substantial reduction in assorted people, fowl, animals and other expenses. Though incomplete, studies indicate that stretching deliveries over twelve days is inefficient. If we can drop ship in one day, service levels will be improved.

    Regarding the lawsuit filed by the attorney's association seeking expansion to include the legal profession ("thirteen lawyers-a-suing") action is pending.

    Lastly, it is not beyond consideration that deeper cuts may be necessary in the future to stay competitive. Should that happen, the Board will request management to scrutinize the Snow White Division to see if seven dwarfs is the right number.

  16. GOD REST YE UNITARIANS
    (Author Unknown)

    1. God rest ye, Unitarians,
      Let nothing you dismay!
      Remember that there is no proof
      There was a Christmas Day
      For Christmas really started as
      A pagan holiday.

       Oh, glad tidings of reason and fact,
       Reason and fact.
       Glad tidings of reason and fact.

    2. No wise men traveled from the East,
      The journey's far too long.
      There were no shepherds in the fields,
      The time of year's all wrong;
      We don't believe in angels;
      That rules out the angels' song!

       Oh, glad tidings of reason and fact,
       Reason and fact.
       Glad tidings of reason and fact.

    3. We're too sophisticated to
      Believe in tales so old.
      We know that human avarice means
      Too much bought and sold;
      We only celebrate because
      This season is so cold.

       Oh, glad tidings of reason and fact,
       Reason and fact.
       Glad tidings of reason and fact.

  17. What's a holiday for toothpaste?
    "Crest"mas!

  18. IS THERE A SANTA CLAUS?

    As a result of an overwhelming lack of requests, and with research help from that renown scientific journal SPY magazine (January, 1990) - I am pleased to present the annual scientific inquiry into Santa Claus.

    1) No known species of reindeer can fly. BUT there are 300,000 species of living organisms yet to be classified, and while most of these are insects and germs, this does not COMPLETELY rule out flying reindeer which only Santa has ever seen.

    2) There are 2 billion children (persons under 18) in the world. BUT since Santa doesn't (appear) to handle the Muslim, Hindu, Jewish and Buddhist cihldren, that reduces the workload to to 15% of the total - 378 million according to Population Reference Bureau. At an average (census) rate of 3.5 children per household, that's 91.8 million homes. One presumes there's at least one good child in each.

    3) Santa has 31 hours of Christmas to work with, thanks to the different time zones and the rotation of the earth, assuming he travels east to west (which seemes logical). This works out to 822.6 visits per second. This is to say that for each Christian household with good children, Santa has 1/1000th of a second to park, hop out of the sleigh, jump down the chimney, fill the stockings, distribute the remaining presents under the tree, eat whatever snacks have been left, get back up the chimney, get back into the sleigh and move on to the next house. Assuming that each of these 91.8 million stops are evenly distributed around the earth (which, of course, we know to be false but for the purposes of our calculations we will accept), we are now talking about .78 miles per household, a total trip of 75-1/2 million miles, not counting stops to do what most of us must do at least once every 31 hours, plus feeding and etc.

    This means that Santa's sleigh is moving at 650 miles per second, 3,000 times the speed of sound. For purposes of comparison, the fastest man-made vehicle on earth, the Ulysses space probe, moves at a poky 27.4 miles per second - a conventional reindeer can run, tops, 15 miles per hour.

    4) The payload on the sleigh adds another interesting element. Assuming that each child gets nothing more than a medium-sized lego set (2 pounds), the sleigh is carrying 321,300 tons, not counting Santa, who is invariably described as overweight. On land, conventional reindeer can pull no more than 300 pounds. Even granting that "flying reindeer" (see point #1) could pull TEN TIMES the normal anount, we cannot do the job with eight, or even nine. We need 214,200 reindeer. This increases the payload - not even counting the weight of the sleigh - to 353,430 tons. Again, for comparison - this is four times the weight of the Queen Elizabeth.

    5) 353,000 tons travelling at 650 miles per second creates enourmous air resistance - this will heat the reindeer up in the same fashion as spacecrafts re-entering the earth's atmosphere. The lead pair of reindeer will absorb 14.3 QUINTILLION joules of energy. Per second. Each. In short, they will burst into flame almost instantaneously, exposing the reindeer behind them, and create deafening sonic booms in their wake. The entire reindeer team will be vaporized within 4.26 thousandths of a second. Santa, meanwhile, will be subjected to centrifugal forces 17,500.06 times greater than gravity. A 250-pound Santa (which seems ludicrously slim) would be pinned to the back of his sleigh by 4,315,015 pounds of force.

    In conclusion - If Santa ever DID deliver presents on Christmas Eve, he's dead now.

  19. On the first day I left it, my Unix gave to me:
    A burnt-out V.D.T.

    On the second day I left it, my Unix gave to me:
    Two faulty tapes;
    And a burnt-out V.D.T.

    On the third day I left it, my Unix gave to me:
    Three heads crashed;
    Two faulty tapes;
    And a burnt-out V.D.T.

    On the fourth day I left it, my Unix gave to me:
    Four bad blocks;
    Three heads crashed;
    Two faulty tapes;
    And a burnt-out V.D.T.

    On the fifth day I left it, my Unix gave to me:
    Five core dumps;
    Four bad blocks;
    Three heads crashed;
    Two faulty tapes;
    And a burnt-out V.D.T.

    On the sixth day I left it, my Unix gave to me:
    Six bad controllers;
    Five core dumps;
    Four bad blocks;
    Three heads crashed;
    Two faulty tapes;
    And a burnt-out V.D.T.

    On the seventh day I left it, my Unix gave to me:
    Seven blown partitions;
    Six bad controllers;
    Five core dumps;
    Four bad blocks;
    Three heads crashed;
    Two faulty tapes;
    And a burnt-out V.D.T.

    On the eighth day I left it, my Unix gave to me:
    Eight gettys dying;
    Seven blown partitions;
    Six bad controllers;
    Five core dumps;
    Four bad blocks;
    Three heads crashed;
    Two faulty tapes;
    And a burnt-out V.D.T.

    On the ninth day I left it, my Unix gave to me:
    Nine floppies frying;
    Eight gettys dying;
    Seven blown partitions;
    Six bad controllers;
    Five core dumps;
    Four bad blocks;
    Three heads crashed;
    Two faulty tapes;
    And a burnt-out V.D.T.

    On the tenth day I left it, my Unix gave to me:
    Ten ports a-jamming;
    Nine floppies frying;
    Eight gettys dying;
    Seven blown partitions;
    Six bad controllers;
    Five core dumps;
    Four bad blocks;
    Three heads crashed;
    Two faulty tapes;
    And a burnt-out V.D.T.

    On the eleventh day I left it, my Unix gave to me:
    Eleven chips a-smoking;
    Ten ports a-jamming;
    Nine floppies frying;
    Eight gettys dying;
    Seven blown partitions;
    Six bad controllers;
    Five core dumps;
    Four bad blocks;
    Three heads crashed;
    Two faulty tapes;
    And a burnt-out V.D.T.

    On the twelfth day I left it, my Unix gave to me:
    Twelve boards a-blowing;
    Eleven chips a-smoking;
    Ten ports a-jamming;
    Nine floppies frying;
    Eight gettys dying;
    Seven blown partitions;
    Six bad controllers;
    Five core dumps;
    Four bad blocks;
    Three heads crashed;
    Two faulty tapes;
    And a burnt-out V.D.T.

  20. The Pope contacted all of his Cardinals with the urgent message, "Get to Rome as quickly as you can!" Once there he assembled them and said, "I'm afraid I've got some good news and some bad news. First the good news; God spoke to me on the phone and told me that the world was going to end this Friday, and we should prepare our congregations."
    "Excuse me, Your Holiness," queried a Cardinal, "If that is the good news, what could the bad news possibly be?
    "He was phoning from Salt Lake City!"

  21. What language does Santa speak?
    North Polish!

  22. What goes hoho bang, hoho bang?
    Santa Claus doing a drive-by.

  23. Darth Vader was heard saying, "Luke, I know what you're getting for Christmas. I've been feeling your presents"

  24. The 12-Days of Technology Before Christmas


    On the first day of Christmas, technology gave to me:
    A database with a broken b-tree (what the hell is a b-tree anyway?)

    On the second day of Christmas, technology gave to me:
    Two transceiver failures (CRC errors? Collisions? What is going on?)
    And a database with a broken b-tree (Rebuild WHAT? It's a 10GB database!)

    On the third day of Christmas, technology gave to me:
    Three French users (who, of course, think they know everything)
    Two transceiver failures (which are now spewing packets all over the net)
    And a database with a broken b-tree (Backup? What backup?)

    On the fourth day of Christmas, technology gave to me:
    Four calls for support (playing the same Christmas song over and over)
    Three French users (Why do they like to argue so much over trivial things?)
    Two transceiver failures (How the hell do I know which ones they are?)
    And a database with a broken b-tree (Pointer error? What's a pointer error?)

    On the fifth day of Christmas, technology gave to me:
    Five golden SCSI contacts (Of course they're better than silver!)
    Four support calls (Ever notice how time stands still when on hold?
    Three French users (No, we don't have footpedals on PC's. Why do you ask?)
    Two transceiver failures (If I knew which ones were bad, I would know which ones to fix!)
    And a database with a broken b-tree (Not till next week? Are you nuts?!?!)

    On the sixth day of Christmas, technology gave to me:
    Six games a-playing (On the production network, of course!)
    Five golden SCSI contacts (What do you mean "not terminated!")
    Four support calls (No, don't transfer me again - do you HEAR? Damn!)
    Three French users (No, you cannot scan in by putting the page to the screen...)
    Two transceiver failures (I can't look at the LEDs - they're in the ceiling!)
    And a database with a broken b-tree (Norway? That's where this was written?)

    On the seventh day of Christmas, technology gave to me:
    Seven license failures (Expired? When?)
    Six games a-playing (Please stop tying up the PBX to talk to each other!)
    Five golden SCSI contacts (What do you mean I need "wide" SCSI?)
    Four support calls (At least the Muzak is different this time...)
    Three French Users (Well, monsieur, there really isn't an "any" key, but...)
    Two transceiver failures (SQE? What is that? If I knew I would set it myself!)
    And a database with a broken b-tree (No, I really need to talk to Lars - NOW!)

    On the eighth day of Christmas, technology gave to me:
    Eight MODEMs dialing (Who bought these? They're a security violation!)
    Seven license failures (How many WEEKS to get a license?)
    Six games a-playing (What do you mean one pixel per packet on updates?!?)
    Five golden SCSI contacts (Fast SCSI? It's supposed to be fast, isn't it?)
    Four support calls (I already told them that! Don't transfer me back - DAMN!)
    Three French users (No, CTL-ALT-DEL is not the proper way to end a program)
    Two transceiver failures (What do you mean "babbling transceiver"?)
    And a database with a broken b-tree (Does anyone speak English in Oslo?)

    On the ninth day of Christmas, technology gave to me:
    Nine lady executives with attitude (She said do WHAT with the servers?)
    Eight MODEMs dialing (You've been downloading WHAT?)
    Seven license failures (We sent the P.O. two months ago!)
    Six games a-playing (HOW many people are doing this to the network?)
    Five golden SCSI contacts (What do you mean two have the same ID?)
    Four support calls (No, I am not at the console - I tried that already.)
    Three French users (No, only one floppy fits at a time? Why do you ask?)
    Two transceiver failures (Spare? What spare?)
    And a database with a broken b-tree (No, I am trying to find Lars! L-A-R-S!)

    On the tenth day of Christmas, technology gave to me:
    Ten SNMP alerts flashing (What is that Godawful beeping?)
    Nine lady executives with attitude (No, it used to be a mens room? Why?)
    Eight MODEMs dialing (What Internet provider? We don't allow Internet here!)
    Seven license failures (SPA? Why are they calling us?)
    Six games a-playing (No, you don't need a graphics accelerator for Lotus! )
    Five golden SCSI contacts (You mean I need ANOTHER cable?)
    Four support calls (No, I never needed an account number before...)
    Three French users (When the PC sounds like a cat, it's a head crash!)
    Two transceiver failures (Power connection? What power connection?)
    And a database with a broken b-tree (Restore what index pointers?)

    On the eleventh day of Christmas, technology gave to me:
    Eleven boards a-frying (What is that terrible smell?)
    Ten SNMP alerts flashing (What's a MIB, anyway? What's an extension?)
    Nine lady executives with attitude (Mauve? Our computer room tiles in mauve?)
    Eight MODEMs dialing (What do you mean you let your roommate dial-in?)
    Seven license failures (How many other illegal copies do we have?!?!)
    Six games a-playing (I told you - AFTER HOURS!)
    Five golden SCSI contacts (If I knew what was wrong, I wouldn't be calling!)
    Four support calls (Put me on hold again and I will slash your credit rating!)
    Three French users (Don't hang your floppies with a magnet again!)
    Two transceiver failures (How should I know if the connector is bad?)
    And a database with a broken b-tree (I already did all of that!)

    On the twelfth day of Christmas, technology gave to me:
    Twelve virtual pipe connections (There's only supposed to be two!)
    Eleven boards a-frying (What a surge suppressor supposed to do, anyway?)
    Ten SNMP alerts flashing (From a distance, it does kinda look like XMas lights.)
    Nine lady executives with attitude (What do you mean aerobics before backups?)
    Eight MODEMs dialing (No, we never use them to connect during business hours.)
    Seven license failures (We're all going to jail, I just know it.)
    Six games a-playing (No, no - my turn, my turn!)
    Five golden SCSI contacts (Great, just great! Now it won't even boot!)
    Four support calls (I don't have that package! How did I end up with you!)
    Three French users (I don't care if it is sexy, no more nude screen backgrounds!)
    Two transceiver failures (Maybe we should switch to token ring...)
    And a database with a broken b-tree (No, operator - Oslo, Norway. We were just talking and were cut off...)

  25. The Politically Correct 12 Days of Christmas

    On the 12th day of the Eurocentrically imposed midwinter festival, my potential-acquaintance-abuse-survivor gave to me:

    Twelve males reclaiming their inner warrior through ritual drumming,

    Eleven pipers piping (plus the 18-member pit orchestra made up of members in good standing of the Musicians Equity Union as called for in their union contract even though they will not be asked to play a note...);

    Ten melanin-deprived testosterone-poisoned scions of the patriarchal ruling class system leaping;

    Nine persons engaged in rythmic self-expression,

    Eight economically disadvantaged but still virginal Gyno-Americans stealing milk products from enslaved Bovine-Americans;

    Seven endangered swans swimming on federally protected wetlands;

    Six enslaved fowl-Americans producing stolen nonhuman animal products;

    Five golden symbols of culturally sanctioned enforced domestic incarceration;

    (Note: after a member of the Animal Liberation Front threatened to throw red paint at my computer, the calling birds, French hens and partridge have been reintroduced to their native habitat. To avoid further animal-American enslavement, the remaining gift package has been revised).

    Four hours of recorded whale songs,

    Three deconstructionist poets;

    Two Sierra Club calendars printed on recycled processed tree carcasses;

    And a spotted owl activist chained to an old-growth pear tree.

  26. 'Twas The Night Before Christmas

    'Twas the nocturnal segment of the diurnal period preceding the annual Yuletide celebration, and throughout our place of residence, kinetic activity was not in evidence among the possessors of this potential, including that species of domestic rodent known as Mus musculus. Hosiery was meticulously suspended from the forward edge of the wood burning caloric apparatus, pursuant to our anticipatory pleasure regarding an imminent visitation from an eccentric philanthropist among whose folkloric appellations is the honorific title of St. Nicholas.

    The prepubescent siblings, comfortably ensconced in their respective accommodations of repose, were experiencing subconscious visual hallucinations of variegated fruit confections moving rhythmically through their cerebrums. My conjugal partner and I, attired in our nocturnal head coverings, were about to take slumberous advantage of the hibernal darkness when upon the avenaceous exterior portion of the grounds there ascended such a cacophony of dissonance that I felt compelled to arise with alacrity from my place of repose for the purpose of ascertaining the precise source thereof.

    Hastening to the casement, I forthwith opened the barriers sealing this fenestration, noting thereupon that the lunar brilliance without, reflected as it was on the surface of a recent crystalline precipitation, might be said to rival that of the solar meridian itself - thus permitting my incredulous optical sensory organs to behold a miniature airborne runnered conveyance drawn by eight diminutive specimens of the genus Rangifer, piloted by a minuscule, aged chauffeur so ebullient and nimble that it became instantly apparent to me that he was indeed our anticipated caller. With his ungulate motive power travelling at what may possibly have been more vertiginous velocity than patriotic alar predators, he vociferated loudly, expelled breath musically through contracted labia, and addressed each of the octet by his or her respective cognomen - "Now Dasher, now Dancer..." et al. - guiding them to the uppermost exterior level of our abode, through which structure I could readily distinguish the concatenations of each of the 32 cloven pedal extremities.

    As I retracted my cranium from its erstwhile location, and was performing a 180-degree pivot, our distinguished visitant achieved - with utmost celerity and via a downward leap - entry by way of the smoke passage. He was clad entirely in animal pelts soiled by the ebony residue from oxidations of carboniferous fuels which had accumulated on the walls thereof. His resemblance to a street vendor I attributed largely to the plethora of assorted playthings which he bore dorsally in a commodious cloth receptacle.

    His orbs were scintillant with reflected luminosity, while his submaxillary dermal indentations gave every evidence of engaging amiability. The capillaries of his malar regions and nasal appurtenance were engorged with blood which suffused the subcutaneous layers, the former approximating the coloration of Albion's floral emblem, the latter that of the Prunus avium, or sweet cherry. His amusing sub- and supralabials resembled nothing so much as a common loop knot, and their ambient hirsute facial adornment appeared like small, tabular and columnar crystals of frozen water.

    Clenched firmly between his incisors was a smoking piece whose grey fumes, forming a tenuous ellipse about his occiput, were suggestive of a decorative seasonal circlet of holly. His visage was wider than it was high, and when he waxed audibly mirthful, his corpulent abdominal region undulated in the manner of impectinated fruit syrup in a hemispherical container. He was, in short, neither more nor less than an obese, jocund, multigenarian gnome, the optical perception of whom rendered me visibly frolicsome despite every effort to refrain from so being. By rapidly lowering and then elevating one eyelid and rotating his head slightly to one side, he indicated that trepidation on my part was groundless.

    Without utterance and with dispatch, he commenced filling the aforementioned appended hosiery with various of the aforementioned articles of merchandise extracted from his aforementioned previously dorsally transported cloth receptacle. Upon completion of this task, he executed an abrupt about- face, placed a single manual digit in lateral juxtaposition to his olfactory organ, inclined his cranium forward in a gesture of leave-taking, and forthwith effected his egress by renegotiating (in reverse) the smoke passage. He then propelled himself in a short vector onto his conveyance, directed a musical expulsion of air through his contracted oral sphincter to the antlered quadrupeds of burden, and proceeded to soar aloft in a movement hitherto observable chiefly among the seed-bearing portions of a common weed. But I overheard his parting exclamation, audible immediately prior to his vehiculation beyond the limits of visibility: "Ecstatic Yuletide to the planetary constituency, and to that self same assemblage, my sincerest wishes for a salubriously beneficial and gratifyingly pleasurable period between sunset and dawn."

  27.         ...When All Through the House

    Twas the night before Christmas
      when all through the house
    I searched for the tools to hand
      to my spouse
    Instructions were studied and we
      were inspired,
    in hopes we could manage "Some
      Assembly Required."
    The children were quiet (not asleep)
      in their beds,
    while Dad and I faced the evening
      with dread:
    a kitchen, two bikes, Barbie's town
      house to boot!
    And, thanks to Grandpa, a train
      with a toot!
    We opened the boxes, my heart skipped
      a beat-
    let no parts be missing or parts
      incomplete!
    Too late for last-minute returns
      or replacement;
    if we can't get it right, it goes
      in the basement!
    When what to my worrying eyes
      should appear
    but 50 sheets of directions, concise,
      but not clear,
    with each part numbered and every
      slot named,
    so if we failed, only we could be blamed.
    More rapid than eagles the parts then
      fell out,
    all over the carpet they were
      scattered about.
    "Now bolt it! Now twist it! Attach it
      right there!
    Slide on the seats, and staple the stair!
    Hammer the shelves, and nail
      to the stand."
    "Honey," said hubby, "you just glued
      my hand."
    And then in a twinkling, I knew
      for a fact
    that all the toy dealers had indeed
      made a pact
    to keep parents busy all Christmas
      Eve night
    with "assembly required" till morning's
      first light.
    We spoke not a word, but kept bent at
      our work,
    till our eyes, they went bleary; our
      fingers all hurt.
    The coffee went cold and the night,
      it wore thin
    before we attached the last rod
      and last pin.
    Then laying the tools away in the chest,
    we fell into bed for a well-deserved rest.
    But I said to my husband just before
      I passed out,
    "This will be the best Christmas,
      without any doubt.
    Tomorrow we'll cheer, let the
      holiday ring,
    and not have to run to the store
      for a thing!
    We did it! We did it! The toys are all set
      for the perfect, most perfect, Christmas, I bet!"
    Then off to dreamland and sweet repose
    I gratefull went, though I suppose
      there's something to say for those self-deluded-
    I'd forgotten that BATTERIES are never included!
    -------------------------------------

  28. Three wise men following yonder star through the desert for three days and nights. Finally they came to a manger. The star was shining on a crib with a baby inside. As they were walking to the crib one of the wise men stepped on a rake and the handle flew up and hit him in the nose, "JESUS CHRIST", he shouted. "Hey", said another wise mand, "good name for the kid."




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资料更新时间: 2004-3-27 17:38:43
资料标题:《Jokes About Religions》
检索关键字:英文笑话,英语幽默,Jokes,Humors
资料编号:7713
资料来源:万千英语族编译
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