WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 21, 2016  

Twas The Night Before Christmas

(Anti-Obama version)

Twas the night before Christmas, all thru the White House
Obama sat stirring, with J. Biden the mouse
Golf stockings were hung, by the chimney with care
In hopes the Tea Party wouldn’t notice them there

The children were nestled all snug in King beds
While visions of Maui still danced in their heads
With Michelle in her pjs, and I in my cap
We just counted money, and settled down for a nap

When out in the lawn, there arose such a clatter
We sprang from the bed to see what was the matter?
Then away to the window, I flew like a flash
I tore off my cap, then threw up the sash

The moon on the breast, on the white fallen snow
Gave my own droopy eyes a view of people below
When what to my wondering eyes should appear
A blue chevy van, with six persons I fear

With a slender ol’ driver, so lively and quick
I knew in a moment it was Clint from that flick
More rapid than Eagles, The Fox friends all came
Clint whistled and shouted; He called them by name

Now Riley, Now Meagan, Now Hannity, Now Malkin
GO Gretta, GO Get the Benghazi’s chief Vixen
To the top of the porch, to the back of the hall
Now Dash away, Dash away, Dash away all

As dry leaves before, this same truth will fly
With media cover-up, They’ll fly to the sky
In back of the house in a quickness they flew
The van full of men, and Clint Eastwood too

And then in a twinkling, I heard from the road
Fox newsmen were speaking of my crazy tax load
As I drew in my head and was turning around
There stood the “Donald,” not making a sound

Suited up for business, from head to his feet
He wasn’t the person I had cared to meet
A big bundle of records was flung on his back
I thought of a peddler, while he opened his pack

His eyes how they sneered, his face cold and stern
I knew he would leave me a lesson to learn
His droll little mouth was drawn down like a bow
He was mad his toupee had fallen in snow

The stump of his pipe, he held in his teeth
The smoke encircled Michelle like a wreath
Trump knew the secret I would never reveal
Not even the votes I would willingly steal

I yelled “Give Up Now On this mission for self”
Trump smirked, then laid the form on my shelf
With a wink of his eye, and a nod of his head
I thought “could it be; I have nothing to dread?”

He spoke not a word, went straight to his work
Then left my birth record, and turned with a jerk
Then pointing his finger up toward my head
Then said “You are Fired; we want Romney instead!”

He sprung to his Limo, leaving me and the mouse
With Michelle looking worried of finding a house
Then I heard him exclaim, as he rode in the night”
“Merry Christmas to aaaall, and to aaaall a Goodniiiiiiiight!!!”

By Josephine Veliz Pebria

More Politically Incorrect Christmas Songs

Not approved by Former Gayvenor Strickland’s $12 million-per-year Political Correctness Commission

Santa Claus is Totin’ a Gun

(to the tune of “Santa Claus Is Coming To Town”)
Submitted by Billy Boy Carbine and the Bluegrass Rifle Association

Oh, you better watch out
You better not pry
You better stay back
I’m telling you why
Santa Claus is totin’ a gun

He’s making a list
And checking it twice
Gonna find out who
He’s gonna ice
Santa Claus is totin’ a gun

Don’t give him any trouble
He’ll blow you right away
Don’t give him any cause to shoot
Or you’ll make his Christmas Day

Oh, you better believe
He’s packing a rod
No coal in your stocking
Just lead in your bod
Santa Claus is totin’ a gun

He doesn’t want cookies
Or none of that crud
He doesn’t want milk
What he wants is your blood
Santa Claus is totin’ a gun
(Music Bridge, with machine gun fire)
He doesn’t trust nobody
Shot all his reindeer dead
Thought Dancer was a sissy
And thought Rudolph was a red

So, you better watch out
You better not pry
You better stay back
I’m telling you why
Santa Claus is totin’ a gun

Larry Flynt’s XXX-mas Song

Submitted by Phil Burr-Ass and his Citizens for Community Values

Sex nuts posting on an open wire
Sick thoughts dripping from their prose
Dirty pictures showing young girls for hire
And men dressed up in women’s clothes
Everybody knows
That mountains of pornography
Have been appearing left and right
Tiny tots with their eyes all a-glow
May find the ones with sheep tonight
We know that Satan’s on the Net
Along with all the creeps and perverts he could get
Enticing every child to try his luck
At finding pictures of people who (censored)
And so I’m offering this simple phrase
To kids from one to ninety-two;
Although it’s been said many times, many
ways “Let us censor for you.”

Our Ghetto Christmas Carol

submitted by Our Belligerent Black Blogger Nate “Rhymes With Hate” Livingston

Leroy de GOLD-TOOTHED reindeer
Had a very NAPPY fro
And if you ever saw him,
He was at the LIQUOR sto’

All of Leroy’s homeboys
Use to PLAYA HATE his game
But they can`t mess w/ Leroy..
‘Cause he got a big OLE thang!

Then one smoggy CHRISTMAS day
SANTA came to say,
“Leroy…have you seen my sleigh?
I know you had it the OTHER day!”

So Leroy BROKE out runnin’
And SANTA pulled out his “nine”
Den SANTA shot poor Leroy
DEAD in his black behind…

If Santa doesn’t come to your house,

There must be a good reason…

Or maybe Sarah Palin shot him…

“And it was always said of Beloved Whistleblower Publisher Charles Foster Kane that he knew how to keep Christmas well if any man alive possessed the knowledge.”

“Mean Jean” Schmidt’s Twelve Days of Christmas”

One of “Mean Jean’s” fondest memories of her time in Congress will surely be all those glowing words of praise on she received from Ethically Challenged Racial Racketeer Charles Rangel. So for those of you planning to join Beloved Whistleblower Publisher Charles Foster Kane and “TaxKiller Tom” Brinkman at Mean Jean” Schmidt’s Christmas Party at the Schmidt Run Estates at Jack casino on Christmas Day, where the disgraced former U.S. Congresswoman plans to announce her return to politics, let’s all sing the tenth verse of “Mean Jean” Schmidt’s Twelve Days of Christmas,” sent in by the guys at Republicans for Higher Taxes, who always applauded the way “Mean Jean” voted for every one of Boob Taft’s tax hikes. It goes something like this:

On the Tenth Day of Christmas, “Mean Jean” gave to me:
Ten Taxes Raising,
Nine Bills a Spending,
Eight Dems a Booing,
Seven Wits a Wagging,
Six Crooked Cronies,
Five Libelous Liars,
Four Screeching Tires,
Three Borgman Cartoons,
Two Red Dresses,
And One Old Crapper, from Rob Portman’s Legacy.

Kind of warms the cockles of your heart, doesn’t it, Portman?

But seriously, folks…

We Still Have “Christmas in Afghanistan”

TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS,
HE LIVED ALL ALONE,
IN A ONE BEDROOM HOUSE MADE OF
PLASTER AND STONE.

I HAD COME DOWN THE CHIMNEY
WITH PRESENTS TO GIVE,
AND TO SEE JUST WHO
IN THIS HOME DID LIVE.

I LOOKED ALL ABOUT,
A STRANGE SIGHT I DID SEE,
NO TINSEL, NO PRESENTS,
NOT EVEN A TREE.

NO STOCKING BY MANTLE,
JUST BOOTS FILLED WITH SAND,
ON THE WALL HUNG PICTURES
OF FAR DISTANT LANDS.

WITH MEDALS AND BADGES,
AWARDS OF ALL KINDS,
A SOBER THOUGHT
CAME THROUGH MY MIND.

FOR THIS HOUSE WAS DIFFERENT,
IT WAS DARK AND DREARY,
I FOUND THE HOME OF A SOLDIER,
ONCE I COULD SEE CLEARLY.

THE SOLDIER LAY SLEEPING,
SILENT, ALONE,
CURLED UP ON THE FLOOR
IN THIS ONE BEDROOM HOME.

THE FACE WAS SO GENTLE,
THE ROOM IN SUCH DISORDER,
NOT HOW I PICTURED
A UNITED STATES SOLDIER.

WAS THIS THE HERO
OF WHOM I’D JUST READ?
CURLED UP ON A PONCHO,
THE FLOOR FOR A BED?

I REALIZED THE FAMILIES
THAT I SAW THIS NIGHT,
OWED THEIR LIVES TO THESE SOLDIERS
WHO WERE WILLING TO FIGHT.

SOON ROUND THE WORLD,
THE CHILDREN WOULD PLAY,
AND GROWNUPS WOULD CELEBRATE
A BRIGHT CHRISTMAS DAY.

THEY ALL ENJOYED FREEDOM
EACH MONTH OF THE YEAR,
BECAUSE OF THE SOLDIERS,
LIKE THE ONE LYING HERE.

I COULDN’T HELP WONDER
HOW MANY LAY ALONE,
ON A COLD CHRISTMAS EVE
IN A LAND FAR FROM HOME.

THE VERY THOUGHT
BROUGHT A TEAR TO MY EYE,
I DROPPED TO MY KNEES
AND STARTED TO CRY.

HE SOLDIER AWAKENED
AND I HEARD A ROUGH VOICE,
“SANTA DON’T CRY,
THIS LIFE IS MY CHOICE;

I FIGHT FOR FREEDOM,
I DON’T ASK FOR MORE,
MY LIFE IS MY GOD,
MY COUNTRY, MY CORPS.”

THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER
AND DRIFTED TO SLEEP,
I COULDN’T CONTROL IT,
I CONTINUED TO WEEP.

I KEPT WATCH FOR HOURS,
SO SILENT AND STILL
AND WE BOTH SHIVERED
FROM THE COLD NIGHT’S CHILL.

I DIDN’T WANT TO LEAVE
ON THAT COLD, DARK, NIGHT,
THIS GUARDIAN OF HONOR
SO WILLING TO FIGHT.

THEN THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER,
WITH A VOICE SOFT AND PURE,
WHISPERED, “CARRY ON SANTA,
IT’S CHRISTMAS DAY, ALL IS SECURE.”

ONE LOOK AT MY WATCH,
AND I KNEW HE WAS RIGHT.
“MERRY CHRISTMAS, MY FRIEND,
AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT.”

CHRISTMAS WISH LIST HOT LINE

e-mail your heartfelt desires today.

Some politically incorrect items in today’s Blower were sent in by our equally politically incorrect subscribers

Links of the Day

White Trash Christmas

PLUS

Is it Christmas Yet?

The Night Hanukkah Harry Beat Up Santa Claus

A Silent Night Movie

Jackie Mason’s Christmas and Hanukkah Card

Santa sees you when you’re masturbating

Note: We guarantee iPhone subscribers who don’t go home and see links and pictures on their computers are not going to appreciate all of this good stuff today.

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