Film-Tech Cinema Systems
Film-Tech Forum


Post New Topic  Post A Reply
my profile | my password | register | search | faq & rules | forum home
  next oldest topic   next newest topic
» Film-Tech Forum   » Community   » Bob Maar's Joke-A-Thon   » Holiday 's (Page 1)

 
This topic comprises 27 pages: 1  2  3  4  ...  25  26  27 
 
Author Topic: Holiday 's
Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)


Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001


 - posted 08-03-2001 07:35 AM      Profile for Bob Maar   Author's Homepage   Email Bob Maar   Send New Private Message       Edit/Delete Post 
Rated G


Yes
Santa
was very
cross. It was
Christmas Eve
and NOTHING was
going right AT ALL.
Mrs. Claus had burned
all OF the cookies. The
elves were complaining
about not getting paid for
the overtime they had whilE
making toys. The reindeers had
been drinking all afternoon and
were dead drunk. To make matters
worse, they had taken the sleigh out
for a spin earlier THAT day... CRASHING IT
RIGHT SMACK inTO a tree. Santa was furious.
"I can't believe it! I've got to deliver millions
of presents all over the world in just a few
hours; all of my reindeers are drunk; the elves
are on strike; and 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, stepped in from the snowy night, dragging
a Christmas tree. He says, "Yo, fat man! Where do you want
me to stick the tree this year?" And, thus, the tradition of an
angel
ON top
OF the
Christmas trees came to pass.

 |  IP: Logged

Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)


Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001


 - posted 08-03-2001 07:37 AM      Profile for Bob Maar   Author's Homepage   Email Bob Maar   Send New Private Message       Edit/Delete Post 
Rated PG

Al Bundy's Christmas Eve

•'Twas the night
before Christmas,
And all through the house,
No food was a-stirrin',
Not even a mouse
•Stockings were hung round
Dad's nick like a tie,
Along with a note that said,
"Presents or die."
•Children were plotting
All night in their beds,
While the wife's constant whining
Was splitting his head.
•But daddy had money
This year in the bank,
Then they closed up early,
And now dad's in a tank.
•All of a sudden,
Santa appeared,
A sneer on his face,
Booze in his beard.
•"Santa," I said,
As he laughed merrily,
"You do so much for others,
Do something for me."
•"Bundy," he said,
"You only sell shoes,
Your son is a sneak thief,
Your daughter's a floose."
•"Ho ho," Santa said,
"Should I mention your wife?
Her hair's like an A-bomb,
Her nails like a knife."
•He climbs up the chimney,
That fat piece of dung,
He mooned me two times,
He stuck out his tongue.
•I heard him exclaim,
As he broke wind
with glee,
"You're married
with children,
You'll never
be free."

 |  IP: Logged

Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)


Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001


 - posted 08-04-2001 06:01 AM      Profile for Bob Maar   Author's Homepage   Email Bob Maar   Send New Private Message       Edit/Delete Post 
Rated G

When I was a young spry turkey, new to the coop,
My big brother Mike took me out on the stoop,

Then he sat me down, and he spoke real slow,
And he told me there was something that I had to know;

His look and his tone I will always remember,
When he told me of the horrors of..... Black November;

"Come about August, now listen to me,
Each day you'll get six meals instead of just three,

"And soon you'll be thick, where once you were thin,
And you'll grow a big rubbery thing under your chin;

"And then one morning, when you're warm in your bed,
In'll burst the farmer's wife, and hack off your head;

"Then she'll pluck out all your feathers so you're bald 'n pink,
And scoop out all your insides and leave ya lyin' in the sink;

"And then comes the worst part" he said not bluffing,
"She'll spread your cheeks and pack your rear with stuffing".

Well, the rest of his words were too grim to repeat,
I sat on the stoop like a winged piece of meat,

And decided on the spot that to avoid being cooked,
I'd have to lay low and remain overlooked;

I began a new diet of nuts and granola,
High-roughage salads, juice and diet cola;

And as they ate pastries, chocolates and crepes,
I stayed in my room doing Jane Fonda tapes;

I maintained my weight of two pounds and a half,
And tried not to notice when the bigger birds laughed;

But 'twas I who was laughing, under my breath,
As they chomped and they chewed, ever closer to death;

And sure enough when Black November rolled around,
I was the last turkey left in the entire compound;

So now I'm a pet in the farmer's wife's lap;
I haven't a worry, so I eat and I nap;

She held me today, while sewing and humming,
And smiled at me and said "Christmas is coming ..."

 |  IP: Logged

Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)


Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001


 - posted 10-23-2001 09:03 AM      Profile for Bob Maar   Author's Homepage   Email Bob Maar   Send New Private Message       Edit/Delete Post 
Rated G

Dave Barry on Halloween

I love Halloween. It reminds me of my happy childhood days as a student at Wampus Elementary School in Armonk, N.Y., when we youngsters used to
celebrate Halloween by making decorations out of construction paper and that white paste that you could eat. This is also how we celebrated Columbus Day, Washington's Birthday, Lincoln's Birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, New Year's, Valentine's Day, Mother's Day, Father's Day, Armistice Day, Flag Day, Arbor Day, Thursday, etc. We brought these decorations home to our parents, who by federal law were required to attach them to the refrigerator with magnets.

That was a wonderful, carefree time in which to be a youngster or construction-paper salesperson. But it all ended suddenly one day -- I'll never forget it -- when the Soviet Union launched the first satellite, called ``Sputnik'' (which is Russian for ``Little Sput''). Immediately allthe grown-ups in America became hysterical about losing the Space Race,which led to a paranoid insecurity about our educational system, expressedin anguished newspaper headlines asking, ``WHY AREN'T OUR KIDS LEARNING IN SCHOOL?'' I wanted to answer, ``BECAUSE ALL WE EVER DO IS MAKE DECORATIONS OUT OF CONSTRUCTION PAPER,'' but I couldn't, because my mouth was full of paste.

But getting back to Halloween: It's still one of the most fun holidays of the year, as well as one of the most traditional, tracing its origins back more than 2,000 years to the Druids, an ancient religious cult that constructed Stonehenge as well as most of the public toilets in England. The Druids believed that one night each year, at the end of October, the souls of the dead returned to the world of the living and roamed from
house to house costumed as Power Rangers.

And thus it is that to this day, youngsters come to our door on Halloween night shouting: ``Trick or treat!'' According to tradition, if we don'tgive the youngsters a ``treat,'' their parents will ``sue'' us. That's why most of us traditionally prepare for Halloween by going to the supermarket and purchasing approximately eight metric tons of miniature candy bars, which we dump into a big bowl by the door, ready to hand out to the hordes of trick-or-treaters.

The irony, of course, is that there ARE no hordes of trick-or-treaters, not any more. We in the news media make darned sure of that. Every year we publish dozens of helpful consumer-advice articles, cheerfully reminding parents of the dangers posed by traffic, perverts, poisoned candy, and many other Halloween hazards that parents would never think of if we didn't remind them (``Have fun, but remember that this year more than 17,000 Americans will die bobbing for apples'').

The result is that many children aren't allowed to go trick-or-treating, and the ones who ARE allowed out come to your house no later than 4:30 p.m., wearing reflective tape on their Power Rangers costumes and trailed at close range by their parents, who watch you suspiciously and regard whatever candy you hand out as though it were unsolicited mail from the Unabomber.

So for most of Halloween, your doorbell is quiet. This means that you pass the long night alone, hour after hour, just you and the miniature candy bars. After a while they start calling seductively to you from their bowl in their squeaky little voices.

``Hey, Big Boy!'' they call. ``We're going to waste over here!''

As the evening wears on they become increasingly brazen. Eventually they crawl across the floor, climb up your body, unwrap themselves and force themselves bodily into your mouth. There's no use hiding in the bathroom, because they'll just crawl under the door and tie you up with dental floss and threaten to squeeze toothpaste in your eye unless you eat them. At least that's what they do to me. By the end of the night my blood has the same sugar content as Yoo-Hoo.

But eating huge amounts of candy allegedly purchased for youngsters is only part of the Halloween tradition. The other part is buying a pumpkin and carving it to make a ``jack-o'-lantern,'' which sits on your front porch, a festive symbol of the age-old truth -- first discovered by the Druids -- that there is no practical use for pumpkins.

Here's how to make a traditional jack-o'-lantern:

1. Cut a lid on top of the pumpkin.

2. Pull off the lid and peer down into the slimy, festering pumpkin bowels.

3. Put the lid back on and secure it with 200 feet of duct tape.

(This is also the traditional procedure for stuffing a turkey.)

But however you celebrate Halloween, make sure you remember this important safety tip: (IMPORTANT SAFETY TIP GOES HERE). Otherwise, you will not survive the night. I'd give you more details, but right now I need to do something about these tiny Milky Ways crawling up my legs.

 |  IP: Logged

Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)


Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001


 - posted 10-23-2001 09:07 AM      Profile for Bob Maar   Author's Homepage   Email Bob Maar   Send New Private Message       Edit/Delete Post 
Rated X

A woman goes into a tattoo parlor and tells the tattoo artistthat she wants a tattoo of a turkey on her right thigh just below her bikini line.

She also wants him to put the words "Happy Thanksgiving" under the turkey.

So the guy does it and it comes out looking real good.

The woman then instructs him to put a Santa Claus with "MerryChristmas" on her left thigh just below the bikini line.

So the guy does that one and it turns out pretty good as well.

As the woman is getting dressed to leave, the tattoo artist says, "If you don't mind, could you tell me why you had me put such unusual tattoos on your thighs?"

She replies, "I'm sick and tired of my husband complaining all the time that there is nothing good to eat between Thanksgiving and Christmas!"

 |  IP: Logged

Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)


Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001


 - posted 10-23-2001 09:27 AM      Profile for Bob Maar   Author's Homepage   Email Bob Maar   Send New Private Message       Edit/Delete Post 
Rated PG

Dear Santa

If Santa answered his mail honestly...

----------
Dear Santa
I wud like a kool toy space ranjur fer Xmas. Iv bena gud boy all
yeer.
Yer Frend,
BiLLy

Dear Billy,
Nice spelling. You're on your way to a career in lawn care. How about I send you a fucking book so you can learn to read and write? I'm giving your older brother the space ranger. At least HE can spell!

Santa

----------
Dear Santa,

I have been a good girl all year, and the only thing I ask for is peace and joy in the world for everybody!

Love,

Sarah

Dear Sarah,

You're parents smoked pot when they had you, didn't they?

Santa

----------
Dear Santa,
u can do this, but for Christmas, I'd like for my mommy and daddy to get back together. Please see what you can do.

Love,

Teddy

Dear Teddy,

Look, your dad's banging the babysitter like a screen door in a hurricane. Do you think he's gonna give that up to come back to your fat mom, who rides his ass constantly? It's time to give up that dream. Let me get you some nice Legos instead.

Santa

----------
Dear Santa,

I want a new bike, a Playstation, a train, some G.I. Joes, a dog, a drum kit, a pony and a tuba.

Love,

Francis

Dear Francis,

Who names their kid "Francis" nowadays? I bet you're gay.

Santa

----------
Dear Santa,

I left milk and cookies for you under the tree, and I left carrots for your reindeer outside the back door.

Love,

Susan

Dear Susan,

Milk gives me the runs and carrots make the deer fart in my face when riding in the sleigh. You want to do me a favor? Leave me a bottle of scotch.

Santa

----------

Dear Santa,

What do you do the other 364 days of the year? Are you busy making toys?

Your friend,

Thomas

Dear Thomas,

All the toys are made in China. I have a condo in Vegas, where I spend most of my time making low-budget porno films. I unwind by drinking myself silly and squeezing the asses of cocktail waitresses while losing money at the craps table. Hey, you
wanted to know.

Santa

----------
Dear Santa,

Do you see us when we're sleeping, do you really know when we're awake, like in the song?

Love,

Jessica

Dear Jessica,

Are you really that gullible? Good luck in whatever you do. I'm skipping your house.

Santa

----------
Dear Santa,

I really really want a puppy this year. Please please please PLEASE PLEASE could I have one?

Timmy

Timmy,

That whiney begging shit may work with your folks, but that crap doesn't work with me. You're getting a sweater again.

Santa

----------
Dearest Santa,

We don't have a chimney in our house, how do you get into our home?

Love,

Marky

Mark,
First, stop calling yourself "Marky", that's why you're getting your ass whipped at school. Second, you don't live in a house, you live in a low-rent apartment complex. Third, I get inside your pad just like all the burglars do, through your bedroom
window.

Sweet Dreams,

Santa

 |  IP: Logged

Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)


Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001


 - posted 10-23-2001 09:38 AM      Profile for Bob Maar   Author's Homepage   Email Bob Maar   Send New Private Message       Edit/Delete Post 
Rated R


December 14, 2000

My dearest darling John:

Who ever in the whole world would dream of getting a real Partridge in a Pear Tree? How can I ever express my pleasure. Thank you a hundred times for thinking of me this way.

My love always,

Agnes

========================================================
December 15, 2000

Dearest John:

Today the postman brought your very sweet gift. Just imagine two turtle doves. I'm just delighted at your very thoughtful gift. They are just adorable.

All my love,

Agnes

=========================================================
December 16, 2000

Dear John:

Oh! Aren't you the extravagant one. Now I must protest. I don't deserve such generosity, three French hens. They are just darling but I must insist, you've been too kind.

All my love,

Agnes

=========================================================
December 17, 2000

Dear John:

Today the postman delivered four calling birds. Now really, they are beautiful, but don't you think enough is enough. You are being too romantic.

Affectionately,

Agnes

==========================================================
December 18, 2000

Dearest John:

What a surprise. Today the postman delivered five golden rings, one for every finger. You're just impossible, but I love it. Frankly, all those birds squawking were beginning to get on my nerves.

All my love,

Agnes

========================================================
December 19, 2000

Dear John:

When I opened the door today there were actually six geese laying on my front steps. So you're back to the birds again huh? These geese are huge. Where will I ever keep them? The neighbors are complaining and I can't sleep through the racket.

Please stop.

Cordially,

Agnes

========================================================
December 20, 2000

John:

What's with you and those freaking birds?? Seven swans a swimming. What kind of damn joke is this? There's bird poop all over the house and they never stop the racket. I can't sleep at night and I'm a nervous wreck. It's not funny. So stop those
freaking birds.

Sincerely,

Agnes

=========================================================
December 21, 2000

O.K. Buster:

I think I prefer the birds. What the hell am I going to do with 8 maids a milking? It's not enough with all those birds and 8 maids a milking, but they had to bring their damn cows. There is manure all over the lawn and I can't move in my own house. Just lay off me, smartass.

Agnes

=========================================================
December 22, 2000

Hey Shithead:

What are you? Some kind of sadist? Now there's nine pipers playing. And Christ do they play. They've never stopped chasing those maids since they got here yesterday morning. The cows are getting upset and they're stepping all over those screeching
birds. What am I going to do? The neighbors have started a petition to evict me.

You'll get yours !

Agnes

==========================================================
December 23, 2000

You rotten prick:

Now there's ten ladies dancing. I don't know why I call those sluts ladies. They've been balling those pipers all night long.

Now the cows can't sleep and they've got diarrhea. My living room is a river of shit. The Commissioner of Buildings has subpoenaed me to give cause why the building shouldn't be condemned.

I'm calling the police on you !

Agnes

=========================================================
December 24, 2000

Listen Fuckhead:

What's with those eleven lords a leaping on those maids and ladies? Some of those broads will never walk again. Those pipers ran through the maids and have been committing sodomy with the cows. All twenty-three of the birds are dead. They've been trampled to death in the orgy. I hope you're satisfied, you rotten vicious swine.

Your sworn enemy,

Agnes

=========================================================
December 25, 2000

Dear Sir:

This is to acknowledge your latest gift of twelve fiddlers fiddling which you have seen fit to inflict on our client, Miss Agnes McHolstein.

The destruction, of course, was total. All correspondence should come to our attention. If you should attempt to reach Miss McHolstein at Happy Dale Sanitarium, the attendants have been instructed to shoot you on sight.

With this letter please find attached a warrant for your arrest.

Cordially,

Law Offices of Badger Bender & Chole

 |  IP: Logged

Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)


Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001


 - posted 10-23-2001 09:48 AM      Profile for Bob Maar   Author's Homepage   Email Bob Maar   Send New Private Message       Edit/Delete Post 
Rated R

An Ebonics Christmas

'Twas da night befo' Christmas and all in the hood,
Not a homie was stirring cuz it was all good.
The tube socks was hung on the window sill
and we all had smiles up on our grill.

Mookie and BeBe was snug in the crib
in the back bedroom, cuz that's how we live.
And Moms in her do-rag and me with my nine,
had just gotten busy cuz girlfriend is fine.

All of a sudden a lowrider rolled by,
Bumpin' phat beats cuz the system's fly.
I bounced to the window at a quarter pas'
'Bout ready to pop a cap in somebody's ass

well anyway....
I yelled to my lady, Yo peep this!
She said, Stop frontin' & just mind yo' bidness.
I said, for real doe, come check dis out.

We weren't even buggin', no worries, no doubt.
Cuz bumpin' an thumpin' from around da way
Was Santa, 8 reindeer and a sleigh.

Da beats was kickin', da ride was phat
I said, "Yo red Dawg, you all that!"
He threw up a sign and yelled to his boyz,
"Ay yo, give it up, let's make some noise!"

To the top of the projects & across the strip mall,
We gots ta go, I got a booty call!"
He pulled up his ride on the top a da roof,
and sippin' on a 40, he busted a move.

I yelled up to Santa, "Yo ain't got no stack!"
he said, "Damn homie, deese projects is wack!
But don't worry black, cuz I gots da skillz
I learnt back when I hadda pay da billz."

Out from his bag he pulled 3 small tings
a credit card, a knife, and a bobby pin.
He slid down the fire exscape smoove as a cat,
and busted the window wit' a b-ball bat.

I said, "Whassup, Santa? Whydya bust my place?"
he said,"You best get on up out my face!"
His threads was all leatha, his chains was all gold,
His sneaks was Puma and they was 5 years old.

He dropped down the duffle, Clippers logo on the side.
Santa broke out da loot and my mouf popped open wide.
A wink of his eye and a shine off his gold toof,
He cabbage patched his way back onto the roof

He jumped in his hooptie wit' rims made of chrome,
To tap that booty waitin' at home.
And all I heard as he cruised outta sight,
was a loud and hearty....."WEEESST SIIIIDE!!!!!!!"

 |  IP: Logged

Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)


Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001


 - posted 10-23-2001 09:54 AM      Profile for Bob Maar   Author's Homepage   Email Bob Maar   Send New Private Message       Edit/Delete Post 
Rated X

Winter Holiday's Q&A

Q: Why doesn't Santa have any children?

A: Because he only comes once a year, and when he does, it's down the
chimney.

Q: Why are women's breasts like a train set a kid gets at Christmas time?

A: Because they were originally made for children but it's the fathers who want to play with them.

Q: Why is Christmas just like a day at the office?

A: You do all the work, and the fat guy with the suit gets all the credit.

Q: How are a Christmas tree and a priest alike?

A: They both have ornamental balls.

Q: How come you never hear anything about the 10th reindeer "Olive?" Olive?

A: Yeah, you know, "Olive the other reindeer, used to laugh and call him names..."

Q: What do the female reindeer do when Santa takes the male reindeer out on Christmas Eve?

A: They go into town, and blow a few bucks.

Q: What's the difference between snowmen and snow ladies?

A: Snowballs.

 |  IP: Logged

Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)


Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001


 - posted 10-23-2001 10:00 AM      Profile for Bob Maar   Author's Homepage   Email Bob Maar   Send New Private Message       Edit/Delete Post 
Rated PG

Santa's Pick Up Lines


* I know when you've been bad or good, so let's skip the small talk, sister!

* Hey Babe, when was the last time you did it in a sleigh?

* Ever make it with a fat guy with a whip?

* Some of my best toys run on batteries...

* I see you when you're sleeping - and you don't wear any underwear, do you?

* Screw the "nice" list -- I've got you on my "nice AND naughty" list!

* Wanna join the "Mile High" club?

* That's not a candy cane in my pocket, honey. I'm just glad to see you

 |  IP: Logged

Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)


Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001


 - posted 10-23-2001 11:36 AM      Profile for Bob Maar   Author's Homepage   Email Bob Maar   Send New Private Message       Edit/Delete Post 
Rated PG

Redneck Christmas


'Twas the Night before Christmas, and all through the shack
Not a creature was stirrin', cept the lice on muh back.
The skoal cans wuz nailed to the screen door with care,
With hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were sleepin', all snug in their beds,
While visions of tractor pulls danced in their heads.
And Ma in her nightgown all stained with pound cake.
Had just settled down to watch Ricki Lake.

When out in the driveway, a loud noise I heard,
I opened the winder to check muh T-bird.
I ran to the door, like I's on a mission,
But I tripped on some parts from muh granny's transmission.

The moon shone outside, the hound dog wuz barkin'.
Muh daughter weren't home yet, she wuz still out parkin'.

When what to muh whiskey blind eyes should I see
But a Chevy S-10, pulled by eight flyin' sheep.
With a fat nasty driver, so disgustin' and sick
I said "Shoot Fire!" That must be St. Nick!

More rapid than X-lax his wooly sheep came
And he belched and he hollered, and he called 'em by name.

Now CLIFFORD! Now VERNON! Now LESTER and ENUS!
On FESTUS! On ELMER! On ROSCOE and CLETUS!

From the top of the shack to them there garbage bins
Now Dash Away! Dash Away! Dash Away youins!

I heard a loud sound on the roof of muh shack.
Pud down muh beer and went fer muh gun rack.
He fell through the roof, plum killed my dog,
I swear that ole' Santa looked just like Boss Hog.

He wore a T-shirt, rebel flag on the front,
And his jeans were all bloody from that morning's hunt.
A big nekkid lady tattooed on his arm,
And he wore black boots that he'd picked up in 'Nam.

His eyes, how they glazed from too much Wild Turkey.
From the side of his mouth hung a stick of beef jerky.
A scar on his cheek from a fight with the cops.
The veins on his face looked ready to pop.

The butt of a Marlboro clung to his lip
He wore a hip pack full of B-B-Q chips.
He had a fat face and a hairy beer belly.
I ain't seen one that big since muh ex-wife Shelly.

He was gap-toothed and dumb with an I.Q. of three
And I laughed cause that redneck was smarter than me.
A wink of his eye, a fierce shake of his head,
From his hair came a rat that ran under the bed.

He reached in his sack, sipped his gin and tonic,
Then filled the kid's stockings with Hooked on Phonics.
His toys came from Big Lots and they weren't very nice
But he had lots of them and yuh can't beat the price.

He gave us a tape of them hound dogs that sing Jingle Bells.
Some Crisco, some Spam, some Oatmeal Cream pies,
And a Nascar T-shirt in Double X size.

When the presents were gone and he had no more,
He staggered and stumbled right through muh screen door.

He hopped in his truck, to his sheep gave an order
"Hurry up youins! To the Tennessee border!"
And I heard him cry out, with a strong southern drawl,
"MERRY CHRISTMAS YOU REDNECKS! MERRY CHRISTMAS
Y'ALL!"

YEE HAWWWW!

 |  IP: Logged

Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)


Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001


 - posted 10-23-2001 11:51 AM      Profile for Bob Maar   Author's Homepage   Email Bob Maar   Send New Private Message       Edit/Delete Post 
Rated G

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 children, that reduces the workload 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 seems 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 amount, 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 traveling at 650 miles per second creates enormous air resistance - this will heat the reindeer up in the same fashion as spacecraft 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

 |  IP: Logged

Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)


Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001


 - posted 10-23-2001 12:30 PM      Profile for Bob Maar   Author's Homepage   Email Bob Maar   Send New Private Message       Edit/Delete Post 
Rated G

Rain or Snow?


A Russian couple were walking down the street in Moscow one night, when the man felt a drop hit his nose. "I think it's raining," he said to his wife. "No, that felt more like snow to me," she replied. "No, I'm sure it was just rain," he said. Well, as these things go, they were about to have a major argument about whether it was raining or snowing when they saw a communist party official walking toward them.

"Let's not argue about it," the man said, "Let's ask Comrade Rudolph whether it's officially raining or snowing." As the official approached, the man said, "Tell us, Comrade Rudolph, is it officially raining or snowing?"

"It's raining, of course," he replied, and walked on. But the woman insisted: "I know that felt like snow!" To which the man quietly replied: "Rudolph the Red knows rain, dear."

 |  IP: Logged

Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)


Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001


 - posted 10-23-2001 12:41 PM      Profile for Bob Maar   Author's Homepage   Email Bob Maar   Send New Private Message       Edit/Delete Post 
Rated G

Fruitcake Recipe


If you find yourself stressed about all of the Thanksgiving cooking and company, try this sure-fire recipe. I've never liked fruitcake, but this recipe has made me change my mind. I discovered after trying this recipe that there isn't anything better on Friday nights after work than a HUGE slice of this great recipe:

First, you'll need the following: a cup of water, a cup of sugar, four large brown eggs, two cups of dried fruit, a teaspoon of salt, a cup of brown sugar, lemon juice, nuts, and a bottle of whiskey.

Sample the whiskey to check for quality. Take a large bowl. Check the whiskey again. To be sure it's the highest quality, our one level cup and drink. Repeat. Turn on the electric mixer, beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl. Add one teaspoon of sugar and beat again. Make sure the whiskey is still okay. Cry another tup. Turn off the mixer. Beat two eggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the chuck in the cup of dried fruit. Mix on the tuner. If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaterers, pry it loose with a drewscriver. Sample the whiskey to check for tonsisticity. Now sift
lemon juice and strain your nuts. Add one table. Spoon. Of sugar or something. Whatever you can find. Now, grease the oven. Turn the cake tin to 350 degrees. Don't forget to beat off the tuner. Throw the bowl out the window. Check the whiskey again and go to bed.

 |  IP: Logged

Bob Maar
(Maar stands for Maartini)


Posts: 28608
From: New York City & Newport, RI
Registered: Feb 2001


 - posted 10-23-2001 12:45 PM      Profile for Bob Maar   Author's Homepage   Email Bob Maar   Send New Private Message       Edit/Delete Post 
Rated G

How to Cook a Turkey


Step 1: Go buy a turkey

Step 2: Take a drink of whiskey (scotch) OR JD or Gin

Step 3: Put turkey in the oven

Step 4: Take another 2 drinks of whiskey

Step 5: Set the degree at 375 ovens

Step 6: Take 3 more whiskeys of drink

Step 7: Turn oven the on

Step 8: Take 4 whisks of drinky

Step 9: Turk the bastey

Step 10: Whiskey another bottle of get

Step 11: Stick a turkey in the thermometer

Step 12: Glass yourself a pour of whiskey

Step 13: Bake the whiskey for 4 hours

Step 14: Take the oven out of the turkey

Step 15: Take the oven out of the turkey

Step 16: Floor the turkey up off of the pick

Step 17: Turk the carvey

Step 18: Get yourself another scottle of botch

Step 19: Tet the sable and pour yourself a glass of turkey

Hope you'all have a Tappy Thansgibing

 |  IP: Logged



All times are Central (GMT -6:00)
This topic comprises 27 pages: 1  2  3  4  ...  25  26  27 
 
Post New Topic  Post A Reply Close Topic    Move Topic    Delete Topic    next oldest topic   next newest topic
 - Printer-friendly view of this topic
Hop To:



Powered by Infopop Corporation
UBB.classicTM 6.3.1.2

The Film-Tech Forums are designed for various members related to the cinema industry to express their opinions, viewpoints and testimonials on various products, services and events based upon speculation, personal knowledge and factual information through use, therefore all views represented here allow no liability upon the publishers of this web site and the owners of said views assume no liability for any ill will resulting from these postings. The posts made here are for educational as well as entertainment purposes and as such anyone viewing this portion of the website must accept these views as statements of the author of that opinion and agrees to release the authors from any and all liability.

© 1999-2018 Film-Tech Cinema Systems, LLC. All rights reserved.