StarDestroyer.Net BBS

T'was the night before Christmas - Old Santa was pissed.
He cussed out the elves and threw down his list.
~~~
Miserable little brats, ungrateful little jerks.
I have a good mind to scrap the whole works.
~~~
I've busted my ass for damn near a year.
Instead of "Thanks Santa" - what do I hear?
~~~
The old lady bitches cause I work late at night...
The elves want more money - The reindeer all fight.
~~~
Rudolph got drunk and goosed all the maids.
Donner is pregnant and Vixen has AIDS.
~~~
And just when I thought that things would get better,
Those assholes from the IRS sent me a letter.
~~~
They say I owe taxes if that ain't damn funny
Who the hell has ever sent Santa Claus ! money?
~~~
And the kids these days - they all are the pits.
They want the impossible ...Those mean little sh*ts.
~~~
I spent a whole year making wagons and sleds,
Assembling dolls...Their arms, legs and heads,
~~~
I made a ton of yoyo's - No request for them...
They want computers and robots...they think I'm IBM.
~~~
Flying through the air...dodging the trees,
Falling down chimneys and skinning my knees.
~~~
I'm quitting this job...there's just no enjoyment.
I'll sit on my fat ass and draw unemployment.
~~~
There's no Christmas this year...now you know the reason...
I found me a blonde. I'm going SOUTH for the season!
~~~
SANTA!!!!

Another to add on...

Twas the night before Christmas,
and Geez it was neat,
The kids were both gone,
and my wife was in heat.
The doors were all bolted,
and the phone was off the hook,
It was time for some nooky,
by hook or by crook.
Momma in her teddy,
and I am 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 poor 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 his sled,
A sock in his ear,
and a bra on his head.
Sure as I'm speaking,
he was as high as a kite.
And he yelled to his team,
but it didn't sound right.
Whoa Shithead, whoa Asshole, 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 jacket 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 here awhile.
He walked to the kitchen, 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 a
six pair of panties, the edible kind. A bra without nipples, a penis
extension, And several other things that I shouldn't even mention. A
cock ring, a G-string, and all types of oil, A dildo so long, it lay in
a coil. "This stuff ain't for kids, Mrs. Santa will shit, So 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 tucked 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 the reins of his
hitch, Saying, "Take me home Rudolph, this night's been a bitch!" The
sleigh was near gone when we heard Santa shout, "The best thing about
sex is that it never wears out!"

ROFL @ EM's post.

~ver

verilon wrote:ROFL @ EM's post.

~ver

Good you said you were laughing at EM's post, else we would have thought you were talking to the wall.

Pure genius.

LMAO
I could never be that creative to write anything even remotely funny.

Now for the biker edition...

Twas the night before Christmas, And not until Spring,
Would an engine be running, not even a Wing.
The bikes are all sleeping, They're covered and warm
Batteries are tended, nylon covers their form.
My Bros were all nestled snug in their beds,
While visions of new chrome danced in their heads.
And I in my doo-rag, bike jacket and boots,
Out shoveling snow, and dreaming of scoots.
Then from the horizon there came such a clatter,
My shovel I dropped, what could be the matter?
Away up the hill, I slogged through the snow,
Looked up at the sky; where'd all that noise go?
A throb from the heavens like straight pipes so hearty,
Gave Summers, good thoughts, a loud bikers' party.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Hog Ultra Classic, Red trailer in rear.
With a little old rider, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than Crotchies his Ultra came on,
And he whistled, and shouted, and sang out this song;
"Now, Harley! Now, Big Dog! On Honda and Beamer!
Now Vulcan! Now Injun! On Victory and Trumpet!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now RIDE away! RIDE away! RIDE away all!"
As small bikes that from the semis do fly,
When they meet with the air blast, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top that Ultra it flew,
With a trailer of goodies, and ole' St. Nick too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The rumble and thunder of pipes that gave proof.
I ran to the house, boots thumping around,
And in came St. Nick all bearded and round.
Dressed all in black leather, from do-rag to boot,
His chaps were all tarnished with road grime and soot.
A T-bag of goodies he'd flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His shades -- how they twinkled! his do-rag how scary!
With chains intertwined, through skulls that were cherry!
His droll little mouth had done many a row,
So the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
The smoke had a strange smell; it gave him relief!
He had a broad face and a large fat beer belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was tattooed and plump, a right jolly old rider,
So I offered a cold Bud, thought what could be righter?
A wink of his eye as he downed that cold beer,
Gave me to know I had nothing to fear.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to my ride,
And fixed it with Chrome, Horsepower and Pride!
And giving the peace sign with bikers, good cheer,
Took off for his Ultra rumbling near.
He sprang on the saddle, his gloves on the bars,
A wheelie he threw then off towards the stars!
I heard him exclaim, as my chest swelled with pride...
**HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD RIDE!**

I guess I'll have to post one too:



'Twas the night before Christmas, and out on the ramp,
Not an airplane was stirring, not even a Champ.
The aircraft were fastened to tiedowns with care,
In hopes that come morning, they all would be there.

The fuel trucks were nestled, all snug in their spots,
With gusts from two-forty at 39 knots.
I slumped at the fuel desk, now finally caught up,
And settled down comfortably, resting my butt.

When the radio lit up with noise and with chatter,
I turned up the scanner to see what was the matter.
A voice clearly heard over static and snow,
Called for clearance to land at the airport below.

He barked his transmission so lively and quick,
I'd have sworn that the call sign he used was "St. Nick".
I ran to the panel to turn up the lights,
The better to welcome this magical flight.

He called his position, no room for denial,
"St. Nicholas One, turnin' left onto final."
And what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Rutan-built sleigh, with eight Rotax Reindeer!

With vectors to final, down the glideslope he came,
As he passed all fixes, he called them by name:
"Now Ringo! Now Tolga! Now Trini and Bacun!
On Comet! On Cupid!" What pills was he takin'?

While controllers were sittin', and scratchin' their head,
They phoned to my office, and I heard it with dread,
The message they left was both urgent and dour:
"When Santa pulls in, have him please call the tower."

He landed like silk, with the sled runners sparking,
Then I heard "Left at Charlie," and "Taxi to parking."
He slowed to a taxi, turned off of three-oh
And stopped on the ramp with a "Ho, ho-ho-ho..."

He stepped out of the sleigh, but before he could talk,
I ran out to meet him with my best set of chocks.
His red helmet and goggles were covered with frost
And his beard was all blackened from Reindeer exhaust.

His breath smelled like peppermint, gone slightly stale,
And he puffed on a pipe, but he didn't inhale.
His cheeks were all rosy and jiggled like jelly,
His boots were as black as a cropduster's belly.

He was chubby and plump, in his suit of bright red,
And he asked me to "fill it, with hundred low-lead."
He came dashing in from the snow-covered pump,
I knew he was anxious for drainin' the sump.

I spoke not a word, but went straight to my work,
And I filled up the sleigh, but I spilled like a jerk.
He came out of the restroom, and sighed in relief,
Then he picked up a phone for a Flight Service brief.

And I thought as he silently scribed in his log,
These reindeer could land in an eighth-mile fog.
He completed his pre-flight, from the front to the rear,
Then he put on his headset, and I heard him yell, "Clear!"

And laying a finger on his push-to-talk,
He called up the tower for clearance and squawk.
"Take taxiway Charlie, the southbound direction,
Turn right three-two-zero at pilot's discretion"

He sped down the runway, the best of the best,
"Your traffic's a Grumman, inbound from the west."
Then I heard him proclaim, as he climbed thru the night,
"Merry Christmas to all! I have traffic in sight."

From ETPlanet...

Schizophrenia: Do You Hear What I Hear?
Multiple Personality: We Three Queens Disoriented Are.

Narcissism: Hark! The Herald Angels Sing About Me!

Dementia: I Think I'll Be Home for Christmas.

Paranoia: Santa Claus is Coming to Town to Get Me.

Mania: Deck the Halls and Walls and House and Lawn and Streets and Stores and Office and Town.

Depression: Silent Anhedonia, Holy Anhedonia, All is Flat, All is Lonely.

Personality Disorder: You Better Watch Out, I'm Going to Cry, I'm Going to Pout, then maybe I'll tell you why!

Obsessive Compulsive: Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell Swing, Jingle Bell Swing, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell Swing, Jingle Bell Swing, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell Rock

Suicidal: Thoughts of Roasting on an Open Fire

Passive Aggressive: On the First Day of Christmas My True Love Gave to Me (then took away).

Money's short, times are hard, here's your fucking Christmas card.

Twas the night before christmas and all through the house, everyone felt shitty, even the mouse.
Mom at the whore house, dad smoking grass, i'd just settled in for a nice piece of ass.
When out in the yard, i heard such a clatter. I sprung from my piece to see what the matter.
Then out in the lawn, i saw a big dick, and i knew in a second it must be St. Nick.
He came down the chimney like a bat out of hell, and i knew in a moment the fucker had fell.
He filled all our stockings with pretzles and beer, and a biiiiiiiiig rubber dick for my brother the queer.
He rose up the chimney with a thunderous fart, and the son of a bitch blew the chimney apart.
As he rode off, spreading the fright, he said "i'll piss on you all, and have a hell of a night!"