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Thursday, December 22, 2016

Greetings Laff Lovers,

I have a sick sense of humor. I think anybody who has been subscribed to this list for any length of time knows that. So it shouldn't surprise anyone that I have come up with my own words to some of the more nauseating Christmas songs that they have been playing on the radio with infuriating frequency since fucking Thanksgiving.

So as a special holiday treat I have written them down for you. I think you might enjoy them.

See if you recognize...

Oh, the weather outside is frightful,
but my cock is so delightful.
So if you're down on your knees,
you're a ho, you're a ho, you're a ho...


Here's one that's not quite so popular...

Cum on the bath towels, a big, fat log,
Thanks to good old Santa Claus.
All through my porn stash the pages stick,
that smelly, old bastard Jerked his dick.
Ho, ho, ho! He shot his load!
Ho, ho, ho! He shot his load!
Up on the housetop, click, click, click,
Down thru' the chimney that old, fat prick.


Ah ha! You know it, don't you? I challenge you to keep your toe from tapping when you start singing this one...

Lick my balls you fucking commies,
Fa la la la la la, la la la la.

Kiss my ass and my salami,
Fa la la la la la, la la la la.

Socialism would be merry,
Fa-la-la, la-la-la, la-la-la.

If Joseph Stalin were a fairy,
Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la.


Here one is what I like to call a "mood setter." See if you recognize...

Put it in, are you listening?
On your chin, cum is glistening.
A beautiful sight,
your lips clamped down tight,
slapping my balls up against your chin.


If that doesn't put you in the Christmas spirit, nothing will. Now, I've saved the most difficult chestnut for last.

I hate most every kind of a queer.
Whether they're belly to belly,
or butt-stuffing Betties,
with cum up their rears!
I hate most every kind of a queer.

There'll be weenies for stroking,
Baloney for smoking and
and fags with their feet in the air.
But the lip-smacking lezbos,
with warm sticky love holes can tag team me
and swallow my load!


Well, it's time for Uncle TZ to head home and mix up a pitcher of eggnog. Make sure you are in bed early on Christmas eve and keep your hands off that yule log. Santa's watching.

Lyrically,

TZ

Send me comments, jokes and pictures of all the hot women in your family at this link: tz@gophercentral.com

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"The threat of Christmas hung in the air, visible already in the fretful look of passersby as they readied themselves for the meaningless but necessary rites of false jovialities and ill-considered gifts."

--Peter Dickinson Play Dead, a mystery novel.



I love CHRISTMAS LIGHTS,
They remind me of some co-workers.
They all hang together, half of the fuckers don't work, and the ones that do aren't that bright.




"Where do you think you're going? Nobody's leaving. Nobody's walking out on this fun, old-fashioned family Christmas. No, no. We're all in this together. This is a full-blown, four-alarm holiday emergency here. We're gonna press on, and we're gonna have the hap, hap, happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny fucking Kaye. And when Santa squeezes his fat white ass down that chimney tonight, he's gonna find the jolliest bunch of assholes this side of the nuthouse."

-Chevy Chase as Clark Griswold in 'National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation' (1989)



Two women were playing golf. One teed off, hit a cracking drive, and watched in horror as her ball headed directly toward a foursome of men playing the next hole.

The ball hit one of the men. He immediately clasped his hands together at his groin, fell to the ground and proceeded to roll around in agony.

The woman rushed to the man, and immediately began to apologize. "Please let me to help. I'm a Physio-Therapist and I know I can relieve your pain if you'd allow me."

"Oh, no, don't touch it! Maybe the swelling will go down in a few minutes," the man replied. He was in obvious agony, lying in the fetal position, still clasping his hands there at his groin. At her persistence, however, he finally allowed her to help. She gently took his hands away and laid them to the side, loosened his pants and put her hands inside.

She administered tender and artful massage for several long moments and asked, "There. Now how does that feel?"

"Feels great," he replied; "but I still think my thumb's broken."

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