Santa Claus
North Pole, North Pole
December 23, 1998

Dear Santa:

I understand that one of my colleagues has petitioned you for changes in her contract, specifically
asking for anatomical and career changes. In addition, it is my understanding that disparaging remarks
were made about me, my ability to please, and some of my fashion choices.  I would like to take
this opportunity to inform you of some issues concerning Ms. Barbie, and some of my own needs
and desires.

First of all, I along with several other colleagues feel Barbie DOES NOT deserve preferential
treatment - the b***h has everything. Along with Joe, Jem, Raggedy Ann & Andy, I DO NOT have
a dream house, CORVETTE, evening gowns, and in some cases the ability to change our hair style.  I
personally have only 3 outfits which I am forced to mix and match at great length.

My decision to accessorize my outfits with an earring was my decision and reflects my lifestyle choice.

I too would like a change in my career.  Have you ever considered "Decorator Ken", "Beauty Salon
Ken", or "Out Of Work Actor Ken"?  In addition, there are several other avenues which could be
considered such as "S&M Ken" , "Green Lantern Ken", "Circuit Ken", "Bear Ken", "Master Ken".
These would more accurately reflect my desires and perhaps open up new markets. And as for Barbie
needing bendable arms so she can "push me away," I need bendable knees so I can kick the b***h to
the curb.  Bendable knees would also be helpful for me in other situations - we've talked about this
issue before.

In closing, I would like to point out that any further concessions to the blond bimbo from hell will result
in action be taken by myself and others. And Barbie can forget about having Joe - he's mine, at least
that's what he said last night.

Sincerely,

Ken

              The night before Chreemas, on Thorsday I theenk,
              I go to cantina to geet me a dreenk.
              I dreenk saam tequila, I dreenk eet too fast,
              Preety darn queek, I fall on my ass.

              I peek myself up and go home to bed,
              I pool the cobija up ober my head.
              Early next morning, or late een the night,
              I heer such darn recket, I theenk eet's a fight.

              I geet outta bed, I don feel very well,
              My head ees too beeg, eet hort me like hell.
              I go to the weendow, I don believe what I see,
              A pot-bellied greengo, as plain as can be.

              I looook at heez ropa, ees all colored red,
              He got heem some chivos tied on to a sled.
              I yella and I holler, "Hey, move your fat ass,
              Your chivos--they chit on my grass!"

              He torn to heez goats, he say just one word,
              And them darn chivos chomp in the air like a bord.
              They corcle around, and then queek as a mouse,
              He land that darn sled on top of my house.

              They chaking their horns and stomping hees hoof,
              I theenk they darn chore play hell with my roof.
              I heer theze ole man chout loud and clear,
              "What the hell, Rodriquez, ain't no cheemney up here...

              No door, no weendow, nothing but air,
              How I gon geev you theze goverment welfare?"
              Then right away theze Rodriquez see---
              He gon get heemself something for free.

              So he says to the greengo, "Please come een senior,
              Do come on down and use the front door."
              So, he come een the house, and upon heez broad back,
              He is carry one hell of beeg gony sack.

              He puut theze beeg sack down on the floor,
              And start pooling out comida galore.
              He pool out tortillas, tamales and ham,
              He pool out a cheekin and haff of a lamb.

              He pool out cervesa and a bottle of wine,
              I cannot believe that theze eez all mine!
              I'm theenking, "Rodriquez, you locky by heck,
              Theze chore as hell beats unemployment sheck."

              So he chakes out heez boles and dreenk some of my wine,
              And cosses hees chivos to get them een line.
              He cosses and hollers, he knows every one,
              "Chingow, Cabron, Yo, Son of a gon."

              That ole man he know how to puut on a chow,
              Trying to make them darn chivos get up and go.
              At last he get them to chom een the sky,
              And the last time I see heem, he preety darn high.

              He going away and the last theeng I heeer,
              'IF YOU VOTE FOR HILLARY, I BE BACK NEXT YEAR!"

'Twas the Night After Christmas 
By Jeff Foxworthy
===============================

'Twas the night after Christmas and all through the trailer, 
The beer had gone flat and the pizza was staler. 
The tube socks hung empty, no candies or toys.
And I was camped out on my old Lay-Z-Boy. 
The kids they weren't talking to me or my wife, 
The worst Christmas they said they had had in their lives. 
My wife couldn't argue and neither could I, 
So I watched TV and my wife, she just cried. 

When out in the yard the dog started barkin'.
I stood up and looked and I saw Sheriff Larkin. 
He yelled, "Roy I am sworn to uphold the laws 
And I got a complaint here from a feller named Claus." 
I said, "Claus, I don't know nobody named Claus, 
And you ain't taking me in without probable cause." 

Then the Sheriff he said, "The man was shot at last night." 
I said, "That might have been me, just what's he look like." 
The Sheriff replied, "Well he's a jolly old feller, with a big beer gut belly, 
That shakes when he laughs like a bowl full of jelly. 
He sports a long beard, and a nose like a cherry." 
I said, "Sheriff that sounds like my wife's sister Sherri." 

"It's no time for jokes Roy" the Sheriff he said. 
"The man I'm describing is dressed all in red. 
I'm here for the truth now, it's time to come clean. 
Tell me what you've done, tell me what you've seen." 

Well I started to lie then I thought what the hell,
It wouldn't have been the first time that I've spent New Years in jail. 
I said, "Sheriff it happened last night about ten. 
I thought that my wife had been drinking again." 
When she walked in from work she was as white as a ghost. 
I thought maybe she had seen one of them UFO's. 

But she said that a bunch of deer had just flown over her head, 
And stopped on the roof of our good neighbour Red. 
Well I ran outside to look and the sight made me shudder, 
A freezer full of venison standing right on Red's gutter. 
Well my hands were a shakin' as I grabbed my gun.
When outta Red's chimney this feller did run. 

And slung on his back was this bag over flowin'. 
I thought he stolen Red's stuff while old Red was out bowling'. 
So I yelled, "Drop fat boy, hands in the air!" 
But he went about his business like he hadn't a care!

So I popped off a warning shot over his head. 
Well he dropped that bag and he jumped in that sled. 
And as he flew off I heard him extort, 
"That's assault with intent Roy, I'll see ya in court."