[Christmas Promotion Day 2] Your best Christmas Joke!

OK, I'm not very creative, so I'm going to take an old holiday class "the night before Christmas" - nerd style :reindeer:

PS. Sorry, I had to make it pro-microsoft, otherwise I would have a lot more trouble rhyming.

Twas the night before Christmas, and no creature was stirring, except for my wireless optical mouse

The CD Drives were opened with care, in hopes, that Sir Bill would place Windows Vista right there

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of hard drives, free software, and RAM danced in their heads;

And mamma on her labtop, and I in with my pocket PC,
Trying to fix the bugs of windows that only experts can see,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to teach those bloody kids some manners.

Away to the window as fast as a T3 1000 megabit connection
Tore open the Windows and threw up the CPU.

The moon on the breast of the newly-created bugs
Gave poor man a heart attack as he fell on the rug,

When he rised again he acknowledged the risk,
but it was worth it, for he saw a miniature sleigh, with eight tiny boot-disks,

With a little old driver, rich enough to kill,
I knew in a moment it must be Sir Bill.

More rapid than eagles his mole people they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, Ballmer! now, Jobs! now, Torvalds and Zawinski!
On, Page! on Brin! on, Yang and Skoll*inski*!

To the top of the world! to the top of them all! Oh-no here come the lawyers, run away from them all!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, buy them out high,

So up to the house-top the mole-people they flew,
With the sleigh full of software, and Sir Bill too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Sir Bill came with a bound.

He was dressed all in gold, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with expensive stuff and some loot;

A bundle of software he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! with dimples like ME!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a CD!

His droll little mouth was drawn in like a bin,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the a nerd's skin;

The stump of a wire he held tight in his teeth,
And the electricity it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a keybroad face and a little non-compact belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of floppies.

He was smart and brilliant, and a right jolly old elf,
And I kneeled when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread (for Vista was bug free);

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the hard drive space; then turned the PC on with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside a remote,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he angelicly rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like a great Thunder Bird.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night... with the exception ye nerds."


Even if I don't win, I had a ton of fun writing that.

I think you should win for creativity. That was real good. Plus, I think it is the only oringal piece here.

2 snowmen were standing in a garden. 1 said to the other,,,,"Sniff, Sniff, can you smell carrots?"

Lmao... This is dirty..

Watch out kids.. Santa is going to come to your house and empty his sack!

and
A Martha Stewart Christmas
Dear Santa:

I rarely ask for much. This year is no exception. I don't need diamond earrings, handy slicer-dicers or comfy slippers. I only want one little thing, and I want it deeply.
Christmas Present
I want to slap Martha Stewart.

Now, hear me out, Santa. I won't scar her or draw blood or anything. Just one good smack, right across her smug little cheek. I get all cozy inside just thinking about it. Don't grant this wish just for me, do it for thousands of women across the country. Through sheer vicarious satisfaction, you'll be giving a gift to us all. Those of us leading average, garden variety lives aren't concerned with gracious living.

We feel pretty good about ourselves if our paper plates match when we stack them on the counter, buffet-style for dinner. We're tired of Martha showing us how to make centerpieces from hollyhock dipped in 18-carat gold. We're plumb out of liquid gold. Unless it's of the furniture polish variety. We can't whip up Martha's creamy holiday sauce, spiced with turmeric. Most of us can't even say turmeric, let alone figure out what to do with it.

OK, Santa, maybe you think I'm being a little harsh. But I'll bet with all the holiday rush you didn't catch that interview with Martha in last week's USA Weekend. I'm surprised there was enough room on the page for her ego.

We discovered that not only does Martha avoid take-out pizza (she's only ordered it once), she refuses to eat it cold (No cold pizza? Is Martha Stewart living?) When it was pointed out that she could microwave it, she replied, "I don't have a microwave."

The reporter, Jeffrey Zaslow, noted that she said this "in a tone that suggests you shouldn't either."

Well, lah-dee-dah. Imagine that, Santa!

That lovely microwave you brought me years ago, in which I've learned to make complicated dishes like popcorn and hot chocolate, has been declared undesirable by Queen Martha. What next? The coffee maker?

In the article, we learned that Martha has 40 sets of dishes adorning an entire wall in her home. Forty sets. Can you spell "overkill"? And neatly put away, no less. If my dishes make it to the dishwasher that qualifies as "put away" in my house!

Martha tells us she's already making homemade holiday gifts for friends. "Last year, I made amazing silk-lined scarves for everyone," she boasts. Not just scarves mind you. Amazing scarves. Martha's obviously not shy about giving herself a little pat on the back. In fact, she does so with such frequency that one has to wonder if her back is black and blue.

She goes on to tell us that "homemaking is glamour for the 90s," and says her most glamorous friends are "interested in stain removal, how to iron a monogram, and how to fold a towel." I have one piece of advice, Martha: "Get new friends."

Glamorous friends fly to Paris on a whim. They drift past the Greek Islands on yachts, sipping champagne from crystal goblets. They step out for the evening in shimmering satin gowns, whisked away by tuxedoed chauffeurs. They do not spend their days pondering the finer art of toilet bowl sanitation. Zaslow notes that Martha was named one of America's 25 most influential people by Time magazine (nosing out Mother Theresa, Madeline Allbright and Maya Angelou, no doubt).

The proof of Martha's influence: after she bought white-fleshed peaches in the supermarket, Martha says, "People saw me buy them. In an instant, they were all gone." I hope Martha never decides to jump off a bridge.

A guest in Martha's home told Zaslow how Martha gets up early to rollerblade with her dogs to pick fresh wild blackberries for breakfast.

This confirms what I've suspected about Martha all along: She's obviously got too much time on her hands. Teaching the dogs to rollerblade. What a show off.

If you think the dogs are spoiled, listen to how Martha treats her friends: She gave one friend all 272 books from the Knopf Everyman Library. It didn't cost much. Pocket change, really. Just $5,000. But what price friendship, right?

When asked if others should envy her, Martha replies, "Don't envy me. I'm doing this because I'm a natural teacher. You shouldn't envy teachers. You should listen to them." Zaslow must have slit a seam in Martha's ego at this point, because once the hot air came hissing out, it couldn't be held back. "Being an overachiever is nothing despicable. It is only admirable. Never lower your standards," says Martha.

And of her Web Page on the Internet, Martha declares herself an "important presence" as she graciously helps people organize their sad, tacky little lives. There you have it, Santa. If there was ever someone who deserved a good smack, it's Martha Stewart. But I bet I won't get my gift this year.

You probably want to smack her yourself.

Edit: I quit

my jokes are horrible

A little boy sits on Santa's lap. Santa says "I bet I know
what you want for Christmas," and with his finger he taps the
boys nose with every letter he spells "T-O-Y-S".

The little boy thinks a second and says, "No, I have enough
toys."

Santa replies once again tapping the boys nose with every
letter, "C-A-N-D-Y."

Again the little boy thinks a second and says, "No, I have
all kinds of candy."

"Well what would you like for Christmas?" Santa asks.

The little boy replies, tapping Santa on the nose,
"U-S-S-Y, and don't tell me you don't have any because I
can smell it on your finger!"

Originally Posted by bluearctic A little boy sits on Santa's lap. Santa says "I bet I know what you want for Christmas," and with his finger he taps the boys nose with every letter he spells "T-O-Y-S". The little boy thinks a second and says, "No, I have enough toys." Santa replies once again tapping the boys nose with every letter, "C-A-N-D-Y." Again the little boy thinks a second and says, "No, I have all kinds of candy." "Well what would you like for Christmas?" Santa asks. The little boy replies, tapping Santa on the nose, "U-S-S-Y, and don't tell me you don't have any because I can smell it on your finger!"

OMFG!! That has to be a winner that is wicked lmao

Q. What do you get when you cross a snowman with a vampire?
A. Frost bite.

Christmas is in my heart twelve months a year and thanks to credit cards, it's on my Visa card statement twelve months a year also.

1st.
Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Doughnut.
Doughnut who?
Doughnut open until Christmas.

2nd.
Santa Claus, like all pilots, gets regular visits from the Federal Aviation Administration, and the FAA examiner arrived last week for the pre-Christmas flight check. In preparation, Santa had the elves wash the sled and bathe all the reindeer. Santa got his log book out and made sure all his paperwork was in order. He knew they would examine all his equipment and truly put Santa's flying skills to the test. The examiner walked slowly around the sled. He checked the reindeer harnesses, the landing gear, and even Rudolph's nose. He painstakingly reviewed Santa's weight and balance calculations for the sled's enormous payload. Finally, they were ready for the test ride. Santa got in and fastened his seat belt and shoulder harness and checked the compass. Then the examiner hopped in, carrying, to Santa's surprise, a shotgun.
"What's that for?!?" asked Santa incredulously. The examiner winked and said, "I'm not supposed to tell you this ahead of time," as he leaned over to whisper in Santa's ear, "but you're gonna lose an engine on takeoff."

3rd.
Q. Why was Santa's little helper depressed?
A. Because he had low elf esteem.

4th.
Just before Christmas, an honest politician, a generous lawyer and Santa Claus were riding in the elevator of a very posh hotel. Just before the doors opened they all noticed a $20 bill lying on the floor. Which one picked it up?
Santa of course, because the other two don't exist!

I hope it's alright to include more than one =\
Quite a few people have done so, so im hoping it's okey :P