Johnny wanted to get his mom something nice for Christmas but she’s hard to shop for. Passing a pet store he thought, "Hmm, a pet might be a good idea." He walked in the pet store and asked the manager what might be a good idea. "How about a puppy?"
"No," said Johnny. "It may роор around the house."
"A fish?"
"No, her house is small, so I don’t think an aquarium will fit." Johnny then spied a parrot and asked, "How about that parrot?"
"Oh," said the manager, "That’s Chet. He’s very expensive."
"Well," said Johnny, "It’s my mom let’s take a look." The manager went to Chet, put a lighter under his left wing, and Chet started to sing "Jingle bells, jingle bells..." Then the manager put a lighter under Chet’s right wig and it started to sing, "Dashing through the snow..."
"Wow!" said Johnny, "What else does he sing?" The manager held the lighter under Chet’s crotch at which point Chet sang, "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire."
A little boy wants a bike for Christmas really badly, but the kid is a real bad seed, and he knows it. He writes a letter to Jesus. "Dear Jesus, if I get a bike for Christmas, I'll be good for a whole week." He thinks about it, crosses out what he wrote, and says,
"I can't be good for a whole week, I'll be good for five days." He crosses that out and writes, "I'll be good for four days." Then he thinks again and says,
"Can't do that." He gets down to one day and says,
"I can't even be good for a day." Then in frustration, goes in his mother's room and get the statue of the Virgin Mary, wraps it up in a blanket, puts it in a paper bag, throws it in the closet and says,
"Dear Jesus, if I don't get a bike for Christmas, you'll never see your mother again!"
Here is an exchange between a mother and son in a Section 8 household. (There are never any father - son exchanges in a Section 8 household because the fathers have long since disappeared.)
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“Momma, what be ‘Socialism’?”
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“Well, son, Socialism is when white folks go to work every day so we can get all our benefits, like free cell phones for each family member, rent subsidy, food stamps, EMC, free healthcare, utility subsidy, free computers and Internet connection, free food, free clothing, free gifts at Christmas, and on and on.
…
That be Socialism”.
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“But Mama, don’t the white people get upset about that?”
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“Sure they do son; that be called Racism!”
Twas the night before Christmas, in Texas you know, Way out on the prairie, without any snow.
Asleep in their cabin, were Buddy and Sue, A'dreaming of Christmas, like me and like you.
Not stockings but boots, at the foot of their beds, For this was Texas, What more need be said?
When all of a sudden from out the still night, There came such a ruckus, it gave me a fright!
And I saw cross the prairie, like the shot from a gun, A loaded up buckboard, Come on at a run.
The driver was whistling and shouting with a will, The horses (not reindeer) he drove with such skill.
"Come on there Buck, Poncho, and Prince, to the right", There'll be plenty of travelin' for you-all tonight.
The driver in his Levis, and a shirt that was red, Had a 10-gallon Stetson on the top of his head.
As he stepped from the buckboard, he was really a sight, With his beard so curly and white.
As he burst in the cabin, the children awoke, And both so astonished, that neither one spoke.
And he filled up their boots with such presents galore, That neither could think of a single thing more.
When Buddy recovered the use of his jaws, He asked in a whisper, "Are you really Santa Claus?"
"Am I the real Santa? Well, what do you think? And he smiled as he gave his mysterious wink.
Then he left in his buckboard, and called back in a drawl, TO ALL CHILDREN OF TEXAS, MERRY CHRISTMAS YEE HAW!