I. The Sinful Witnesses to Saint Nick’s Arrival
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
A. We’re dealing a rat infested home!
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.
B. These people are cross dressers – they wear stockings instead of socks
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
C. The kids are on drugs and having hallucinations
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.
D. These people sleep naked except for their hats-some weird sect of Mennonites
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.
II. The Truth About Saint Nick
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
“Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”
A. There’s No Rudolph! he was an addition to the Text made by the godless communists in the 1950’s
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.
A. He’s a dirty old man (covered in ashes and soot) who has to sneak in your house
B. He’s carrying a bag of toys! He’s senile and probably homeless
His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
C. He’s a drunk (red nose)
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.
D. He wears hippy type beard
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
E. He’s a smoker – and a pipe at that – probably full of pot
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
F. He’s overweight – not solid and portly like David Grice
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
G. He winks at little kids – he’s probably a pervert
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
H. His friend (the jerk) is an idiot
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
I. This is so disgusting I can’t talk about it – Get a handerkerchief!
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”
J. Everyone Knows this should be Merry Christmas!
Many thanks to Dr. Fiddle, D.D. for pulling this from his files and sending it along. I trust it has been a blessing to your bowels and has put you in remembrance of the true reason for the season: being able to judge others for how they celebrate it.
First, doubt it. Slow computer!
What a surprise. Santa please bring me a new computer! A fast one!
In the meantime, Natalie shall give you a special first comment Christmas butt cushion with jingle bells!
Merry Everyone!
Haha so Santa’s a glutton a pervert? And fundies don’t like him?
*AND a pervert.
Good evening George. Shouldn’t you be in bed?
4th today?
I’ll never be able to remember this outline. It’s not even alliterated. 🙁
THAT made me smile! 😀
I don’t know about everyone else, but it moved my bowels. 😯
of course at my age when they move it’s a blessing. 😉
I am relieved to know this. Get it? Bowels? Relief? I am trying.
No need to strain just let it out nartually.
I’m really happy for you, Don.
And there was much Rejoicing…. Ya-y-y.
Much like the passing of the seasons
Much more of this and I’ll have to evacuate from this blog.
I’ll bring the 5th, from the guy who was Santa at the pre-school at our church
When I saw the cut off version of the title, I thought it was going to be the Twas the Night Before Jesus Came poem. Our pastor would read it every year, and once I was with my family at the mall and got lost. I was a teenager and thought I got “left behind”. Thought it was because I broke my promise about lusting after a girl in my class. Then I noticed that there wasn’t the mass hysteria I had been told about. Finally I found my family and was safe.
I remember that poem being recited at my Baptist church when I was about seven. I still fear being “left behind” even though I am no longer sure about there being a rapture.
jabes10, the whole rapture belief system was made up about 170 years ago. Outside of American fundieland most Christians do not believe in the rapture.
I have yet to read “The Rapture Exposed” but I seen Ms Rossing interviewed on MSNBC.
http://www.poptheology.com/2009/12/the-rapture-exposed/
That information was what made me start question the whole “Rapture” thing…still not sure what the Grand Finale will be but I no longer believe that there will be “Left Behind Rapture.”
“The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow”
THIS proves the godless pornographic imagery spouted by Santa Claus, I mean SATAN Claus.
Heh-heh-heh, she said breast!
My fundy relatives knew another fundy family that taught their children that it is chicken chest not breast.
That’s the most ignorant thing I’ve heard of in…at least a couple days.
Isn’t that how the terms “White meat” and “Dark meat” got started, so no one would say “chicken breast”? The Victorians had a thing about legs, too. 🙄
Yesterday one of our 1st graders came up to me at aftercare and asked if Santa was real. I said I believed in Santa and asked her why she asked. She pointed to a 4th grade girl, who is living with foster parents. I said when you stop believing, you get underwear!
When the older girl came up we talked about not spoiling others fun, and I told her that St. Nicholas was a real person who gave gifts. I talked to her foster mon and found out the girls dad told her Santa was another name for Satan , when you move the letters. He must of got underwear at an early age.
“… when you stop believing, you get underwear!”
Not only that, but at a certain age, you start to like getting new underwear (although you may prefer to pick it out yourself).
He definitely had his in a bunch.
Winning!!!!
We had that same issue with our nephews a couple years ago. Some mean little kid at their fundy church (the preacher’s kid)told our nephew that Santa was a lie. My sister-in-law was very upset. She was angry that someone took away their kids’ innocent fun. So when we celebrated Christmas with them, my husband and I got a big pillow case and a fancy cord and left it under the tree with the kids’ presents. They loved it!
Even now, at almost fifty and as one who tries to study Scripture, not fundyword, I still have those flashbacks of being left behind when I get separated and can’t find my family quickly. It is irrational, foolish, and non-biblical. I know. It is scary how deeply fundy foolishness can scar someone.
Must be the BaalBush and the antique Santa doll we put out every year. If Old Paths are the Only Paths, it stands to reason a really old Santa Doll has years of evil to influence us.
Highly amusing! But I really want to know if one of the kids in the creepy Santa picture is little Darrell…. 😀
It can’t be Darrell … his 17 siblings are missing from the picture.
That IS one creepy-looking Santa! 😛
Totally off topic: Not every fundy is an IFBer. There are (believe it or not) Presby fundies, and Lutheren fundies and Methodist fundies, and even Catholic fundies – check out Mel Gibson’s dad 😳 . Anyhow Irrational Belief blog has post the top ten things you miss about being a former fundy: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/unreasonablefaith/2011/12/10-things-you-miss-about-christian-fundamentalism/ Most of these you will recognize, but a few of them belong to other fundyisms.
George, that is Unreasonable Faith blog. And watch our for words that are even naughtier that “breast”.
This is true and a really good point. Speaking as a non-IFBer, and non-Baptist, I assure you that even if other churches aren’t quite as extreme, the Fundy kool-ade is pervasive.
For that matter, there’s even “Atheist Fundies”, based on how much you embrace reason/eschew mere “faith”, that kind of thing. 😕
In my further study of this text I discovered that Satan Claus has only one leg (note that the text says “foot” not “feet”).
Since early childhood, I’ve been told that the poem beginning “‘Twas the night before Christmas” was written by Clement Clarke Moore. It was only a couple of years ago that I learned that he apparently plagiarized the poem, and died taking credit for the work of another writer.*
So, the most famous poem about Santa Claus has a thief’s name attached to it. That must indicate something bad about the Santa Claus tradition, don’t you think? 😈
*The real author was probably Henry Livingston, Jr. Thanks to Google, here’s some dirt on the authorship question:
http://www.suite101.com/article.cfm/american_poetry/104862
http://kccbigcountry.hubpages.com/hub/The-Author-of-Twas-the-Night-Before-Christmas
http://rpo.library.utoronto.ca/poem/1312.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Visit_from_St._Nicholas
http://www.thesunchronicle.com/articles/2011/12/10/columns/10623342.txt
Do you know, I not only never knew this, but I have never even known there was any question about it! I am very glad you posted this, BG!
Whew! The next thing someone will try to tell us that Matthew didn’t write Matthew, Mark didn’t write Mark, Paul didn’t write all of the Pauline epistles, Moses didn’t write the five books of Moses…
Um … Sit down, Alexis. Uh … Oh, never mind.
Well, there’s a certain Episcopal Bishop that contends that the Incarnation and Virgin Birth, as well as the prophecies, are all a bunch of made-up lies… 😥
LOL, BG, that was hilarious. 😆
Yikes! So the Santa that Moore wrote about actually left switches for the naughty children!? That ups the Claus creepiness factor considerably…not only does the old man enter homes uninvited (that’s a crime) to ply “good” children with trinkets (that’s grooming), he also leaves an instrument of torture for the “bad” kids (that’s manipulative & sadistic). *shudder* 😯 😈
That’s part of the evidence that Moore wasn’t the original author of “A Visit From St. Nicholas.” Moore did write and publish some Christmas poems, and in his vision, Santa was a judgemental, moralistic prigg.
Make that “judgmental,” George.
A judgmental, moralistic, punishing prigg.
It’s unseemingly to talk about breasts.
The question I have is which creepy fundy dude does this picture remind you of?
I never really believed in Santa. I walked in on my parents wrapping my presents when I was 3, and the jig was up.
Other than the Santa stuff, my family (privately) celebrated Christmas the same way we did when we were Catholic. It was fun to see how my born-and-raised-fundy stepmom would almost get more excited about it than my sister and I did.
I assume that’s the worst thing you ever walked in on your parents doing…be thankful.
David Grice is on a diet and lost 80 lbs this year. I think the fat jokes about him are getting a little old.
That’s great to know. He deserves a lot of credit.
#1. David Grice jokes will never get old.
#2. 80 pounds is a good start. After another 100 or so the jokes might lose some punch.
If I lost 80 lbs. I would weigh as much as a 14-year-old girl. When Grice loses 80 lbs. he wieghs as much as three 14-year-old girls.
Oh come on guys, give him credit for losing weight. It’s not easy to lose 80 lbs, heck it’s not easy to lose 10 if you like to eat. I’ve been trying to lose weight myself so I can sympathize. That doesn’t mean I sympathize with his distorted doctrine however! 🙄
If you want to pick on him for what he believes, then whatever… but seriously, he’s the only Baptist pastor I know personally who has ever made a commitment to eating right and losing weight, and followed through, and keeps on going.
If you knew anything about him, you’d know the weight was an issue long before he ever got even close to being in the ministry. I think it’s actually the fact that he’s a pastor and wanting to be a good example that helped motivate him to do the right thing in this area.
And that’s going to make him any less ridiculous?
Ba-da-bing!
I think the other regulars here will confirm that I have never made fun of Grice (or any other Fundy) for being fat. I made fun of him for being a nut.
I think his size is the least of his issues.
the real reason for the season – judging others for how they celebrate it. GREAT line.
See, and I thought it was for sucking all the joy out of the “most wonderful time of the year.”
A three-point alliterated sermon outline on the same subject:
I. The Thief Who Penned It–Moore–his name sounds Catholic and he is a plagiarist (that sounds like a Pharisee).
II. The Thug Who is Praised in It–Satan Claus–pervert, drunk, plays with elves, etc.
III. The Thoughtless Who Peruse It–all you stupid non-IFB “Christians” who allow this perverted deviltry to be read to you poor innocent children when they should be on a bus coming to our Godly Sunday School (although we won’t let them around our kids because they are most likely already tainted by your clearly Satanic ways).
I had a professor in Bible college who did a spoof “sermon” on A Visit From St. Nicolas (written by a clergyman no less). It was very like this one. He taught homiletics, so it was three points and, or course, he already had the poem. No matter how many times I’ve listened to it over the years, it never ceases to tickle my funny bone. One year, my class bought and presented him with a giant coloring book and crayons. He left them out in the hallway for students to color during the month of December.
He was a great teacher, too. I had him for Daniel/Revelation, and OT Prophets. Dr. Cawood. He’s been with those who worship around the Throne these many years, but I will never forget him.
What I never hear mentioned is Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. One can only assume that copious amounts of eggnog have been consumed between Santa and his heroic reindeer. I’m surprised it hasn’t led to accusations of bestiality.