Real Christmas

At a monastery high in the mountains, the monks have a rigid vow of silence. Only at Christmas, and only by one monk, and only with one sentence, is the vow allowed to be broken.

One Christmas, Brother Thomas is allowed to speak and he says, “I like the mashed potatoes we have with the Christmas turkey!” and he sits down. Silence ensues for 365 days.

The next Christmas, Brother Michael gets his turn, and he says “I think the mashed potatoes are lumpy and I hate them!”

Once again, silence for 366 days (it’s leap year). The following Christmas, Brother Paul rises and says, “I am fed up with this constant bickering!”

Not long ago and not far away, Santa was getting ready for his annual trip…but there were problems every where. It was Christmas Eve and NOTHING was going right.

The Elves were complaining about not getting paid for the overtime they had put in while making toys and were threatening to go on strike. Four of the elves got sick, and the trainee elves did not produce the toys as fast as the regular ones so Santa was beginning to feel the pressure of being behind schedule.

Mrs. Claus had burned all the Christmas cookies. Then she told Santa that her mother was coming to visit….

When he went to harness the reindeer he found that two of them were about to give birth and the rest had been drinking all afternoon and were dead drunk. They had taken the sleigh out for a spin earlier in the day, and it crashed into a tree, breaking off one of the runners, which Santa had to repiar.

Then, when he began to load the sleigh, the damaged runner collapsed again and the toy bag fell to the ground, scattering toys all over the place.

Frustrated, Santa went into the house for a cup of coffee and a shot of whiskey, but he found that the elves (and the reindeer) had hit the liquor cupboard and there was nothing there to drink. In his frustration, he dropped the coffee pot and it broke into hundreds of little pieces all over the kitchen floor. He went to get the broom and found that mice had gnawed the bristles down to a nub.

Santa was beside himself with anger. “I CAN’T believe it! I’ve got to deliver millions of presents all over the world in just a few hours, and all my reindeer are drunk and my elves are on strike. I don’t even have a Christmas tree! I sent that stupid little angel out HOURS ago to find a tree and he isn’t even back yet! What am I going to do?”

Just then the little angel opened the front door and stepped in from the snowy night, dragging a large Christmas Tree. He said: “So, Santa, where do you want me to stick the Christmas tree this year?”

And that, my friend, is how the little angel came to be on top of the Christmas tree….

One year, a particular harried husband decided to buy his mother-in-law a cemetery plot as a Christmas gift.

The next year, he didn’t buy her a gift.

When she asked him why, he replied, “Well, you still haven’t used the gift I bought you last year!”

A long time ago, in Communist Russia, there was a famous weather man named Rudolf.

He’s always had a 100% accuracy rate for his forecasts of the Russian weather conditions. His people loved him and respected him for his faultless foresight. He was particularly good at predicting rain. One night, despite clear skies, he made the prediction on the 6:00pm news broadcast that a violent storm was approaching. It would flood the town in which he and his wife lived. He warned the people to take proper precautions and prepare for the worst.

After he arrived home later that evening, his wife met him at the door and started arguing with him that his weather prediction was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard. This time, she said, he had made a terrible mistake. There wasn’t a cloud anywhere within 10 miles of the village. As a matter of fact, that day had been the most beautiful day that the town had ever had and it was quite obvious to everyone that it simply wasn’t going to rain.

He told her she was to be quiet and listen to him. If he said it was going to rain, IT WAS GOING TO RAIN. He had all of his Russian heritage behind him and he knew what he was talking about. She argued that although he came from a proud heritage, IT STILL WASN’T GOING TO RAIN.

They argued back and forth for hours , so much that they went to bed mad at each other.

During the night, sure enough one of the worst rainstorms hit the village the likes of which they had never seen. That morning when Rudolf and his wife arose, they looked out the window and saw all the water that had fallen that night.

“See,” said Rudolf, “I told you it was going to rain.”

His wife admitted: “Once again your prediction came true. But I want to know, just how were you so accurate, Rudolf?”

To which he replied, “You see, Rudolf the Red knows rain dear!”

Santa Claus, like all pilots, gets regular visits from the Federal Aviation Administration, and it was shortly before Christmas when the FAA examiner arrived.

In preparation, Santa had the elves wash the sled and bathe all the reindeer. Santa got his logbook out and made sure all his paperwork was in order.

The examiner walked slowly around the sled. He checked the reindeer harnesses, the landing gear, and Rudolf’s nose. He painstakingly reviewed Santa’s weight and balance calculations for the sled’s enormous payload.

Finally, they were ready for the checkride. Santa got in, fastened his seatbelt 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, but you’re gonna lose an engine on takeoff.”

One beautiful December evening Huan Cho and his girlfriend Jung Lee were sitting by the side of the ocean. There was a romantic full moon, and Huan Cho said, “Hey baby, let’s play Weeweechu.”

“Oh no, not now. Lets just look at the moon”, said Jung Lee.

“Oh, c’mon baby, let’s you and I play Weeweechu. I love you and it’s the perfect time,” Huan Cho Begged.

“But I had rather just hold your hand and watch the moon.”

“Please Jung Lee, just once… play Weeweechu with me.”

Jung Lee looked at Huan Chi and said, “OK, we’ll play Weeweechu.”

Huan Cho grabbed his guitar and they both sang…

“Weeweechu a Merry Christmas, Weeweechu a Merry Christmas,
Weeweechu a Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year.”

While working as a mall Santa, I had many children ask for electric trains. “If you get a train,” I would tell each one, “you know your dad is going to want to play with it too. Is that okay?”

The usual answer was a quick yes, but afer I asked one boy this question, he became very quiet. Trying to move the conversation along, I asked what else he would like Santa to bring him.

He promptly replied, “Another train.”