A Star Trek: The Next Generation Christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the ship Not a circuit was buzzing, not one microchip; The phasers were hung in the arm’ry securely, In hope that no aliens would get up that early.

The crewmen were nestled all snug in their bunks– except for the few who were partying drunks; And Picard in his nightshirt, and Bev in her lace, Had just settled down for a neat face to face…

When out in the halls there arose such a racket, That we lept from our beds pulling on pants and a jacket. Away to the lifts we all shot like a gun, Leapt into the cars and yelled loudly, “Deck One!”

The bridge Red-Alert lights, which flashed throught the din, Gave a luster of Hades to objects within. When, what, on the viewscreen, should our eyes behold, But a weird kind of sleigh, and some geek who looked old.

But the glint in his eyes was so strange and askew, That we know in a moment it had to be Q. His sleigh grew much larger the closer he came, Then he zapped on the bridge and addressed us by name;

“It’s Riker! It’s Data! It’s Worf and Jean-Luc! It’s Geordi! And Wesley, the genetic fluke! To the top of the bridge, to the top of the hall! Now float away, float away, float away all!”

As leaves in autumn are whisked off the street, So the floor of the bridge came away from out feet, And up to the ceiling our bodies they flew, As the captain called out, “What’s the meaning of this, Q!”

The prankster just laughed and expanded his grin, And, snapping his fingers, he vanished again. As we took in our plight and were looking around, The spell was removed, and we crashed to the ground.

Then Q, dressed in fur from his head to his toe, Appeared oonce again to continue the show. “That’s enough!” cried the Captain, “you’ll stop this at once!” And Riker said, “Worf! Take your aim at this dunce!” “I’m deeply offended, Jean-Luc,” replied Q. “I just wanted to spend Christmas with you.”

As we scoffed at his words, he produced a large sack. He dumped out the contents and took a step back. “I’ve brought gifts,” said he, “to show I’m sincere. There’s something delightfoul for everyone here.” He sat on the floor and dug into the pile, And handed out gifts with his most charming smile.

“For Counselor Troi, there’s no need to explain, Here’s Tylenol-Beta for all of your pain. For Worf, I’ve got mints as his breath’s not too great, And for Geordi LaForge, an inflatable date.

“For Wesley, some hormones, and Clearasil-Plus; For Data, a joke book; for Riker, a truss. For Beverly Crusher, there’s sleek lingerie, And for Jean-Luc, the thrill of seeing her that way.”

Then he sprang to his feet with that grin on his face, And clapping his hands, disappeared into space. But we heard him exclaim as he dwindled from sight, “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good flight!”

Date: Fri, 5 Dec 1997 10:04:10 -0500

The X(mas) Files

Mulder: We’re too late. It’s already been here.

Scully: Mulder, I hope you know what you are doing.

Mulder: Look, Scully, just like the other homes: Douglas fir, truncated, mounted, transformed into some sort of shrine; halls decked with boughs of holly; stockings hung by the chimney, with care.

Scully: You really think someone’s been here?

Mulder: Someone or some THING.

Scully: Mulder, over here — it’s fruitcake.

Mulder: Don’t touch it! Those things can be lethal.

Scully: It’s O.K. There’s a note attached: “Gonna find out who’s naughty and nice.”

Mulder: It’s judging them, Scully. It’s making a list.

Scully: Who? What are you talking about?

Mulder: Ancient mythology tells of an obese humanoid entity who could travel at great speed in a craft powered by antlered servants. Once each year, near the winter solstice, this creature is said to descend from the heavens to reward its followers and punish its disbelievers with jagged chunks of anthracite.

Scully: But that’s legend, Mulder — a story told by parents to frighten children. Surely, you don’t believe it?

Mulder: Something was here tonite, Scully. Check out the bite marks on this gingerbread man. Whatever tore through this plate of cookies was massive — and in a hurry.

Scully: It left crumbs everywhere. And look, Mulder, this milk glass has been completely drained.

Mulder: It gorged itself, Scully. It fed without remorse.

Scully: But why would they leave it milk and cookies?

Mulder: Appeasement. Tonight is the Eve, and nothing can stop its wilding.

Scully: But if this thing does exist, how did it get in? The doors and windows were locked. There’s no sign of forced entry.

Mulder: Unless I miss my guess, it came through the fireplace.

Scully: Wait a minute, Mulder. If you are saying some huge creature landed on the roof and came down the chimney, you’re crazy. The flue is barely six inches wide. Nothing could get through there.

Mulder: But what if it could alter its shape, move in all directions.

Scully: You mean, like a bowl full of jelly?

Mulder: Exactly. Scully, I’ve never told anyone this, but when I was a child my home was visited. I saw the creature. It had long white strips of fur surrounding its ruddy, misshapen head. Its bloated torso was red and white. I’ll never forget the horror. I turned away, and when I looked back it had somehow taken on the facial features of my father.

Scully: Impossible.

Mulder: I know what I saw. And that night it read my mind. It brought me a Mr. Potato Head, Scully. IT KNEW I WANTED A MR. POTATO HEAD.

Scully: I’m sorry, Mulder, but you’re asking me to disregard the laws of physics. You want me to believe in some supernatural being who soars across the skies and brings gifts to good little girls and boys. Listen to what you are saying. Do you understand the repercussions? If this gets out, they’ll close the X-files.

Mulder: Scully, listen to me: It knows when you are sleeping. It knows when you’re awake.

Scully: But we have no proof.

Mulder: Last year, on this exact date, S.E.T.I. radio telescopes detected bogeys in the airspace over twenty-seven states. The White House ordered a Condition Red.

Scully: But that was a meteor shower.

Mulder: Officially. Two days ago, eight prized Scandinavian reindeer vanished from the National Zoo in Washington, D.C. Nobody – not even the zookeeper – was told about it. The government doesn’t want people to know about Project Kringle. They fear that if this thing is proved to exist, then the public would stop spending half its annual income in a holiday shopping frenzy. Retail markets will collapse. Scully,they cannot let the world believe this creature lives. There’s too much at stake. They’ll do whatever it takes to insure another silent night.

Scully: Mulder, I —

Mulder: Sh-h-h! Do you hear what I hear?

Scully: On the roof. It sounds like . . . a clatter.

Mulder: The truth is up there. Let’s see what’s the matter.

Date: Fri, 5 Dec 1997 10:04:10 -0500

Organizational Changes at the North Pole

TO: Public release
RE: Organizational Changes at the North Pole

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 necessary due to the North Pole’s loss of dominance of the season’s gift distribution business. Home shopping channels and mail order catalogues have diminished Santa’s market share. 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. Reduction in reindeer will also lessen airborne environmental emissions for which the North Pole has received unfavorable press.

I am pleased to inform you 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.

Happy Holidays!

Date: Wed, 3 Dec 1997 09:01:19 -0500

Concern For Santa’s Mental Health

Mental Health Care Ltd.

To: All Home Managers
From: Concerned Care Staff
Date: 25th December Re: S. Claus

We are having problems with the above named. He presents as being happy andjolly and walks around saying “Ho ho ho”. Additionally he has taken to referring to an imaginary animal called Rudolf and insists on wearing a red and white coat, even in the hearth. He refuses to use the front door preferring to come down the chimney. This behaviour became problematic when he came down the dining room chimney because it has been bricked up for some time. When he is out in the community he approaches young children, of either sex, and asks them to sit on his knee. Without staff intervention he would then ask them if they want a present.

In short, his behaviour makes his return to the community unlikely. I would be grateful for your advice concerning his suitability for a placement with Mental Health Care Ltd.

*******************REPLY******************

From: Father Christmas (alias S. Claus) The North Pole
To: Mental Health Care Ltd.
Re: Letter dated 25th December.

As you are aware recent legislation gives me access to my medical records and I am concerned that your recent report is misleading.

You will be aware that from time immortal priests have been in the habit of befriending small children and treating them kindly. This takes the form of being jolly giving presents, and more particularly sitting them on my lap and visiting them in their bedrooms ho ho ho hooo!!

I see no reason to change my behaviour and look forward to another year of jollity and indulgence unfettered by do-gooding social workers, mental health care teams and the like. I wish to appeal against my removal from the community under section 666 subsection 6 para 2.666 of the Icelandic Volcanic Mental Health Act A.D.0001 (revised 1914, 1939).

Yours sincerely

S. Claus (Rev.)

S. Claus.

Date: Wed, 3 Dec 1997 09:01:19 -0500

Kid’s Jokes

Below are some jokes told by 4 and 5 yr. olds on David Letterman’s show.

How can you tell it is Ronald McDonald on a nude beach?….He’s the one with the sesame seed buns.

There was a lady taking a bath with her dog Seemore. Seemore jumps out the window and the lady with no clothes on goes out calling Seemore, Seemore, Seemore! A guy comes along and says literally I have seen enough.

The Groom and the Best Man

Fed up with the way the bride invariably steals the show at her own wedding, the University at which Rob Tombes works carried in its news weekly its own unbiased account of his recent marriage here to Mary Beth Snyder:

Mr Robert Tombes, son of Dr. and Mrs. Averett S. Tombes of Fairfax, Va., became the bridegroom of Miss Mary Elizabeth Snyder today at Fairfax Presbyterian Church.

Mr. Tombes was attended by his brother Thomas Hamilton Tombes as best man. As the groom approached the altar he was the cynosure of all eyes. Blushing handsomely, he replied to the questions of the clergyman in low but firm tones. He was charmingly clad in a 3-piece suit consisting of coat, vest and pants. The coat, of some dark material, was draped handsomely about the shoulders and tastefully gathered under the arms. A touching story was current among the guests that the coat was the one worn by his father and grandfather on their wedding days. Mr. Tombes would neither affirm nor deny the truth of this sentimental touch. The vest was sleeveless and met in the front. It was gracefully fashioned with pockets and at the back was held together by a strap and buckle of the same material.

The groom’s pants were of some dark material, and were suspended from the waist, falling in a straight line almost to the floor. The severe simplicity of the garment was relieved by the right pantelet which was caught up about four inches from the floor by a Boston Brighton worn underneath, revealing just the artistic glimpse of leather, laced with string of the same color. The effect was rather chic.

Beneath the vest the groom wore blue galluses attached to the pants fore and aft and passing in a graceful curve over each shoulder. His neck was encircled with a collar characterized by a delicate sawedge, and around the collar a cravat was loosely knotted so that it rode up under his left ear
with a studied effect of carelessness which marks supreme artistry in dress. The best man’s costume was essentially the same as the groom’s, and as the two stood at the altar, a hush of awed admiration enveloped the audience.

As Miss Snyder led the groom from the nuptials, it was noted that she wore the conventional white veil and orange blossoms.

Twas a Redneck Christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas And all through the trailer
Not a creature was stirrin’ ‘Cept a redneck named Taylor.
His first name was Bubba, Joe was his middle,
And a-runnin’ down his chin Was a trickle of spittle.
His socks, they were hung by the chimney with care,
And therefore there was a foul stench in the air.

That Bubba got scared And rousted the boys.
There was Rufus, 12; Jim Bob was 11;
Dud goin’ on 10; Otis was 7.
John, George and Chucky Were 5,4, and 3:
The twins were both girls So they let them be.

They jumped in their overalls, No need for a shirt,
Threw a hat on each head, Then turned with a jerk.
They ran to the gun rack That hung on the wall.
There were 17 shotguns; They grabbed them all.

Bubba said to the young’uns, “Now hesh up ya’ll!
The last thing we wanna do Is wake up yer Maw.”
Maw was expecting And needed her sleep,
So out they crept out the door Without making a peep.

They all looked around, and then they all spit.
The young’uns asked Bubba, “Paw, what is it?”
Bubba just stared; He could not say a word.
This was just like all of The stories he’d heard.

It was Santy Claus on the roof, Darn tootin’
But the boys didn’t know; They was about to start shootin’!
They aimed their shotguns and nearly made a mistake
That would have resulted in venison steak.
Bubba hollered out, “Don’t shoot, boys!”
That’s Santy Claus And he’s brought us some toys.

The dogs were a-barkin’ And a-raisin’ cain,
And Bubba whistled, and shouted, And called them by name.
“Down, Spot! Shut up Bullet! Quiet, Pete and Roscoe!
Git, Turnip and Tater and Sam and Bosco!”

“Git down from that porch! Git down off that wall!
Quit shakin the trailer, Or you’ll make Santy fall!”
The dogs kept a-barkin’ And wouldn’t shut up,
And they trampled poor Pete Who was only a pup.

Santy opened his bag, And threw out some toys.
Bubba got most, But left a few for the boys.
Since the guns had been dropped He just might not die.

He jumped in his sleigh, Told his reindeer to hurry.
The trailer started to wobble Santa started to worry.
Just as the reindeer Got into the air,
The trailer collapsed, But Bubba didn’t care.

He was busy lookin’ At all his new toys.
Then a thought hit him, And he said to the boys:
“Go check on yer Maw, Make sure she’s all right.
That roof fallin’ on her Could-a hurt just a might.”

But Maw was OK, And the girls were too.
They fixed up the trailer; It looked good as new.
And as for Bubba, He liked Old St. Nick,
But Santa thought Bubba Was a pure-in-tee hick!

Bubba had a nice Christmas, And the boys did, too.
And the Taylors wish A Merry Christmas to you!

Date: Wed, 10 Dec 1997 13:54:18 -0500

Driving Through Louisiana

Two New Yorkers were driving through Louisiana. As they were approaching the town of Natchitoches, they started arguing about the pronunciation of the name. They argued back and forth until they stopped for lunch.

As they stood at the counter, one blonde asked the manager, “Before we order, could you please settle an argument for us? Would you please pronounce where we are,…very slowly?”

The manager leaned over the counter and said, “Burrrrrrrr-gerrrrrrr-Kiiiiing.”

Date: Mon, 1 Dec 1997 13:51:45 -0500

Birds and The Bees

A sweet little girl runs out to the backyard where her father is working, and asks him “Daddy, what’s sex?” So, her father sits her down, and tells her all about the birds and the bees.

He tells her about conception, sexual intercourse, sperms and eggs etc… He tells her about puberty, menstruation, men and women and love… He thinks, what the hell, and tells her the works, thinking that to tell it all is the only way to tell truth.

The girl is somewhat awe struck with this sudden influx of bizarre new knowledge, and her father finally asks, “So why did you wish to know about sex?”

“Oh, mommy said lunch would be ready in a couple of secs…”

Date: Mon, 1 Dec 1997 13:51:45 -0500

Satan in Church

One bright, beautiful Sunday morning, everyone in tiny Smithville wakes up early and goes to their local church. Before the service starts, the townspeople sit in their pews and talk about their lives, their families, etc.

Suddenly, at the altar, Satan appears!!? Everyone starts screaming and running for the front entrance, trampling each other in their determined efforts to get away from Evil Incarnate.

Soon, everyone is evacuated from the church except for one man, who sits calmly in his pew, seemingly oblivious to the fact that God’s ultimate enemy is in his presence. This confuses Satan a bit.

Satan walks up to the man and says, “Hey, don’t you know who I am?”

The man says, “Yep, sure do.”

Satan says, “Well, aren’t you afraid of me?”

The man says, “Nope, sure ain’t.”

Satan, perturbed, says, “And why aren’t you afraid of me?”

“Well, I’ve been married to your sister for 25 years.”