Cousin It was getting tired of being just the hired hand around the Addams family household. The family had moved to the feudal nation of Armenia and It decided to run for feudal lord. While not quite a democracy, elections were still the path to choosing the next leader who would exercise power and authority over the nation.
With Gomez, Morticia and Festus fiercely campaigning for their beloved candidate, election day arrived. The precincts opened, ballots were cast, and the votes were counted. The polls had showed a close contest between the four candidates running, but when the final tally was announced, Cousin It had received the most votes.
With all the Addams family and his supporters cheering him on, Cousin It was beside himself as he approached the podium.
"I won! I won!" It screamed. "Bring me the wine. I'm serving!"
With glass raised, Gomez shouted, "When IT reigns, IT pours!"
Politically correct terms for cat owners:
- My cat does not ваrf hairballs, he is a floor/rug re-decorator.
- My cat does not break things, she helps gravity do its job.
- My cat does not fear dogs, they are merely sprint practice tools.
- My cat does not gobble, she eats with alacrity.
- My cat does not scratch, he is a furniture/rug/skin ventilator.
- My cat is not a "shedding machine," she is a hair relocation stylist.
- My cat is not a "treat-seeking missile," she enjoys the proximity of food.
- My cat is not a chatterbox, she is advising me on what to do next.
- My cat is not a dope addict, she is catnip appreciative.
- My cat is not a ruthless hunter, she is a wildlife control expert.
- My cat is not evil, she is badness enhanced.
- My cat is not fат, he is mass enhanced.
- My cat is not hydrophobic, she has an inability to appreciate moisture.
- My cat is not underfoot, she is shepherding me to my next destination
(which should always be the food dish).
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.)
…
“Momma, what be ‘Socialism’?”
…
“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”.
…
“But Mama, don’t the white people get upset about that?”
…
“Sure they do son; that be called Racism!”
A drunк asked a barman, “Who did you vote for in the last election?”
“None of your business,” the barman answered, “And besides, you never talk politics in a pub.”
“Okay,” said the drunк. “What church do you go to?”
“None of your business,” the barman answered, “And besides, you never talk religion in a pub.”
“Okay,” said the drunк. “Can I talk about sеx?”
“Sure! Sеx is great pub talk!”
“Okay,” said the drunк, “Fсuк you.”
‘Twas the night before Christmas and Santa’s a wreck…
How to live in a world that’s politically correct?
His workers no longer would answer to “Elves”,
“Vertically Challenged” they were calling themselves.
And labor conditions at the north pole
Were alleged by the union to stifle the soul.
Four reindeer had vanished, without much propriety,
Released to the wilds by the Humane Society.
And equal employment had made it quite clear
That Santa had better not use just reindeer.
So Dancer and Donner, Comet and Cupid,
Were replaced with 4 pigs, and you know that looked sтuрid!
The runners had been removed from his sleigh;
The ruts were termed dangerous by the E. P. A.
And people had started to call for the cops
When they heard sled noises on their roof-tops.
Second-hand smoke from his pipe had his workers quite frightened.
His fur trimmed red suit was called “Unenlightened.”
And to show you the strangeness of life’s ebbs and flows,
Rudolf was suing over unauthorized use of his nose
And had gone on Geraldo, in front of the nation,
Demanding millions in over-due compensation.
So, half of the reindeer were gone; and his wife,
Who suddenly said she’d enough of this life,
Joined a self-help group, packed, and left in a whiz,
Demanding from now on her title was Ms.
And as for the gifts, why, he’d ne’er had a notion
That making a choice could cause so much commotion.
Nothing of leather, nothing of fur,
Which meant nothing for him. And nothing for her.
Nothing that might be construed to pollute.
Nothing to aim. Nothing to shoot.
Nothing that clamored or made lots of noise.
Nothing for just girls. Or just for the boys.
Nothing that claimed to be gender specific.
Nothing that’s warlike or non-pacific.
No candy or sweets…they were bad for the tooth.
Nothing that seemed to embellish a truth.
And fairy tales, while not yet forbidden,
Were like Ken and Barbie, better off hidden.
For they raised the hackles of those psychological
Who claimed the only good gift was one ecological.
No baseball, no football…someone could get hurt;
Besides, playing sports exposed kids to dirt.
Dolls were said to be sexist, and should be passe;
And Nintendo would rot your entire brain away.
So Santa just stood there, disheveled, perplexed;
He just could not figure out what to do next.
He tried to be merry, tried to be gаy,
But you’ve got to be careful with that word today.
His sack was quite empty, limp to the ground;
Nothing fully acceptable was to be found.
Something special was needed, a gift that he might
Give to all without angering the left or the right.
A gift that would satisfy, with no indecision,
Each group of people, every religion;
Every ethnicity, every hue,
Everyone, everywhere…even you.
So here is that gift, it’s price beyond worth…
“May you and your loved ones enjoy peace on earth.”
Notice: This poem is copyright 1992 by Harvey Ehrlich. It is free to
Distribute, without changes, as long as this notice remains intact.
All follow-ups, requests, comments, questions, distribution rights, etc
Should be made to mduhan@husc. Harvard. Edu . Happy Holidays!