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Festivity Levels

Festivity Level 1: Your guests are chatting amiably with each other, admiring your Christmas-tree ornaments, singing carols around the upright piano, sipping at their drinks and nibbling hors d'oeuvres.

Festivity Level 2: Your guests are talking loudly -- sometimes to each other, and sometimes to nobody at all, rearranging your Christmas-tree ornaments, singing "I Gotta Be Me" around the upright piano, gulping their drinks and wolfing down hors d'oeuvres.

Festivity Level 3: Your guests are arguing violently with inanimate objects, singing "I can't get no satisfaction," gulping down other peoples' drinks, wolfing down Christmas tree ornaments and placing hors d'oeuvres in the upright piano to see what happens when the little hammers strike.

Festivity Level 4: Your guests, hors d'oeuvres smeared all over their naked bodies are performing a ritual dance around the burning Christmas tree. The piano is missing.

You want to keep your party somewhere around level 3, unless you rent your home and own firearms, in which case you can go to level 4.

Ebonics Christmas

Ebonics Crimmus Pome

Wuz de nite befo Crimmus
An' all ower de hood
ereybody wuz' sleepin'
Dey wuz sleepin' good
We hunged up our stockings
An hoped like de' heck
That ol Sanna Clause
Be bringin' our check
All o'de fambily
Wuz layin in de beds
While Ripple and Thunderbird
Dance tru' 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 "Shit!! 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 not leevin no prezents
Jus stealing my shit
Got my drugs, got my guns
Got my crack pipe...still lit!

Wit my stuff in de bag
Out da window he flewed
I woudda' tried to cut 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 sum of a bitch!!

Next year I be hopin'
Anutha Sanna we git
Cuz' diz here Sanna Clause
Jus' ain't werf a shit!!!

Murry Crimmus

What Denomination

A Woman went to the Post Office to buy stamps for her Christmas cards.

"What Denomination?" Asked the clerk.

"Oh, good heavens! Have we come to this?" said the woman.

"Well give me 50 Baptist and 50 Catholic!"

Dirty Night Before Christmas

'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, 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 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 the sled,
A sock in his ear and a bra on his head.

Sure as I'm speaking, he was high as a kite,
And he yelled to his team, but it didn't sound right.

Whoa S**thead, whoa A**hole, 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 jockeys, to cover my ass,
When down the chimney Santa came with a crash.

His suit was all smelly with perfume galore,
He looked 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 awhile"

He walked to the kitchen for 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 six pair of panties, the edible kind.

A bra without nipples, a penis extension,
And several more things I shouldn't even mention.

A f**k ring, a G-string, and all types of oil,
And a dildo so long that it lay in a coil.

"This stuff ain't for kids, Mrs. Santa will s**t,
Do 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 stuck 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 reigns of his hitch,
Saying, "Take me home, Rudolf. This night's been a bitch!"

The sleigh was near gone when we heard Santa shout,
"The best thing about pussy is you can't wear it out!!"

Ebonics Christmas Poem

Wuz de night befo Crismus
An all ober de hood
Everybody wuz sleepin'
Day wuz sleepin' good.
Everbody wuz sleepin'
all tight in they beds
Whilst Thunderbird Wine
Danced in they heads
I was passed out on de flo
Right next to my Ma
When I heard such a fuss
I thinked "It must be de law!!"

I looked out tru de barz
dat covered my do
Spectin' de sherif
with a warrant fo sho!

Now ober de years
Sanny Claws, he be white.
But it lookin' like us bros
got a black Sanny dis night
Now what I did see
made me say "LAWD Lood at dat!"

It was a huge watermellon cadi
pulled by dwarf rats
Faster than a po-lice car
True de air he came
an whupped up on dem warf rats
an called emm by name.
On Leroy, on Kendrick,
On Jontarious Lee, on Falacious
They was a sight to see
He didn't go down no chimbly-
just picked de lock on my do'
An I says to myself-
"Shit! He done did befo'!"

He had a big sack
full of presents I spect
With Air Jordans and Fake Gold
to go 'round my neck.
But he didn't leave any presents-
just started steelin' my shit
He got my drugs, my stoled guns
an even my burglars kit!

With his sack on his back
Out de winder he flew
I sho woulda catched 'em,
but he stole my knife too!

He jumped on dat watermelon cadi
and pulled out a switch
He was gone in a second
dat son-of-a-bitch
I sho hope nex year
a white Sanny we git'
Cause de black Sanny Claws
jus' ain't wuf a shit!!