Archive for the ‘Really Bad Christmas Jokes’ Category

The Perfect Woman

December 13, 2007

Once upon a time, a perfect man and a perfect woman met. After a perfect courtship, they had a perfect wedding. Their life was, of course “perfect.”
      One snowy, stormy Christmas Eve, this perfect couple was driving their perfect car (a SUV) along a winding road, when they noticed someone at the side of the road in distress. Being the perfect couple they stopped to help.
      There stood Santa Claus with a huge bundle of toys. Not wanting to disappoint any children on the eve of Christmas, the perfect couple loaded Santa and his toys into their vehicle. Soon they were driving along delivering the toys.
      Unfortunately, the driving conditions deteriorated and the perfect couple and Santa Claus had an accident. Only one of them survived the accident.
      Who was the survivor?
      The perfect woman survived. She’s the only one who really existed in the first place. Everyone knows there is no Santa Claus and there is no such thing as a perfect man.
      So, if there is no perfect man and no Santa Claus, the perfect woman must have been driving. This explains why there was an accident.


The Gift

December 12, 2007

Thanks for the electric guitar you gave me for Christmas,” little Chris Cody said to his uncle the first time he saw him after the holidays. “It’s the best present I ever got.”
      “That’s great,” said his uncle. “Do you know how to play it?”
      “Oh, I don’t play it,” the little fellow said. “My mom gives me a dollar a day not to play it during the day and my dad gives me five dollars a week not to play it at night.

Star in the East

December 11, 2007

A woman takes her 16-year-old daughter to the doctor. The doctor says, “Okay, Mrs. Jones, what’s the problem?”
      The mother says, “It’s my daughter, Debbie. She keeps getting these cravings, she’s putting on weight, and is sick most mornings.”
      The doctor gives Debbie a good examination, then turns to the mother and says, “Well, I don’t know how to tell you this, but your Debbie is pregnant – about 4 months, would be my guess.”
      The mother says, “Pregnant?! She can’t be, she has never ever been left alone with a man! Have you, Debbie?”
      Debbie says, “No mother! I’ve never even kissed a man!”
      The doctor walked over to the window and just stares out it. About five minutes pass and finally the mother says,
      “Is there something wrong out there doctor?”
      The doctor replies, “No, not really, it’s just that the last time anything like this happened, a star appeared in the east and three wise men came over the hill. I’ll be darned if I’m going to miss it this time!”

A Redneck Night Before Christmas

November 29, 2007

‘Twas the Night before Christmas, and all through the shack

Not a creature was stirrin’, cept the lice on muh back.

The skoal cans wuz nailed to the screen door with care,

With hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were sleepin’, all snug in their beds,

While visions of tractor pulls danced in their heads.

And Ma in her nightgown all stained with pound cake.

Had just settled down to watch Ricki Lake.

When out in the driveway, a loud noise I heard,

I opened the winder to check muh T-bird.

I ran to the door, like I’s on a mission,

But I tripped on some parts from muh granny’s transmission.

The moon shone outside, the hound dog wuz barkin’.

Muh daughter weren’t home yet, she wuz still out parkin’.

When what to muh whiskey blind eyes should I see

But a Chevy S-10, pulled by eight flyin’ sheep.

With a fat nasty driver, so disgustin’ and sick

I said “Shoot Fire!” That must be St. Nick!

More rapid than X-lax his wooly sheep came

And he belched and he hollered, and he called ’em by name.



From the top of the shack to them there garbage bins

Now Dash Away! Dash Away! Dash Away youins!

I heard a loud sound on the roof of muh shack.

Pud down muh beer and went fer muh gun rack.

He fell through the roof, plum killed my dog,

I swear that ole’ Santa looked just like Boss Hog.

He wore a T-shirt, rebel flag on the front,

And his jeans were all bloody from that morning’s hunt.

A big nekkid lady tattooed on his arm,

And he wore black boots that he’d picked up in ‘Nam.

His eyes, how they glazed from too much Wild Turkey.

From the side of his mouth hung a stick of beef jerky.

A scar on his cheek from a fight with the cops.

The veins on his face looked ready to pop.

The butt of a Marlboro clung to his lip

He wore a hip pack full of B-B-Q chips.

He had a fat face and a hairy beer belly.

I ain’t seen one that big since muh ex-wife Shelly.

He was gap-toothed and dumb with an I.Q. of three

And I laughed cause that redneck was smarter than me.

A wink of his eye, a fierce shake of his head,

From his hair came a rat that ran under the bed.

He reached in his sack, sipped his gin and tonic,

Then filled the kid’s stockings with Hooked on Phonics.

His toys came from Big Lots and they weren’t very nice

But he had lots of them and yuh can’t beat the price.

He gave us a tape of them hound dogs that sing Jingle Bells.

Some Crisco, some Spam, some Oatmeal Cream pies,

And a Nascar T-shirt in Double X size.

When the presents were gone and he had no more,

He staggered and stumbled right through muh screen door.

He hopped in his truck, to his sheep gave an order

“Hurry up youins! To the Tennessee border!”

And I heard him cry out, with a strong southern drawl,




November 24, 2007

Remember, when you are out there Chanukah and Christmas

shopping, help to keep America beautiful ,,,, stop yourself

from buying ugly things!

The Cow

November 23, 2007

The wise old Mother Superior was dying. The nuns were gathered around

her bed. She asked for a little warm milk to sip, so a nun went to the

kitchen to warm some milk. Remembering a bottle of whiskey received as

a gift the previous Christmas, she opened it and poured a generous

amount into the warm milk.

Mother drank a little, then a little more, then before they knew it,

she had drunk the whole glass down to the last drop. “Mother, Mother”

the nuns cried, “Give us some wisdom before you die!” She raised

herself up in bed with a pious look on her face and pointing out the

window she said, “Don’t sell that cow!!!”

Supreme Court Ruling

November 19, 2007

The Supreme Court ruled there cannot be a nativity scene in

Washington, DC this Christmas. This isn’t for any religious or

constitutional reason, they simply have not been able to find Three

wise men and a virgin in the nation’s capitol.

Christmas Jokes – Commercial

November 12, 2007

From a commercial point of view, if Christmas did not exist it would be necessary to invent it. 

Katharine Whitehorn

Cajun 12 Days of Christmas

October 28, 2007

Day 1 Dear Emile, Thanks for da bird in the Pear tree. I fixed it las

night with dirty rice an it was delicious. I doan tink the Pear tree

would grow in de swamp, so I swapped it for a Satsuma.

Day 2 Dear Emile, Your letter said you sent 2 turtle dove, but all I got

was 2 scrawny pigeon.

Anyway, I mixed them with andouille and made some gumbo out of dem.

Day 3 Dear Emile, Why doan you sen me some crawfish? I’m tired of

eating dem darned bird. I gave two of those prissy French chicken to

Mrs. Fontenot over at Grand Chenier, and fed the tird one to my dog,

Phideaux. Mrs. Fontenot needed some sparring partners for her fighting


Day 4 Dear Emile, Mon Dieux! I tole you no more of dem bird. Deez

four, what you call “calling bird” wuz so noisy you could hear dem all

da’ way to Lafayette. I used they necks for my crab traps, and fed the

rest of dem to the gators.

Day 5 Dear Emile, You finally sent something useful. I liked dem golden

rings, me. I hocked dem at da’ pawn shop in Sulphur and got enough

money to fix the shaft on my shrimp boat, and to buy a round for da boys

at the Raisin’ Cane Lounge.

Merci Beaucoup!

Day 6 Dear Emile, Couchon! Back to da birds, you coonass turkey! Poor

egg sucking Phideaux is scared to death ah dem six goose. He try to eat

they eggs and they pecked the heck out ah his snout. Dem goose are damm

good at eating cockroach around da’ house, though. I may stuff one ah

dem goose with erster dressing to serve him on Christmas Day.

Day 7 Dear Emile, I’m gonna wring your fool neck next time I see you.

Ole Boudreaux, da mailman, is ready to kill you, too. The crap from all

dem bird is stinkin up his mailboat. He afraid someone will slip on dat

stuff and gonna sue him. I let dem seven swan loose to swim on da bayou

and some stupid duck hunter from Mississippi done blasted dem out da

water. Talk to you tomorrow.

Day 8 Dear Emile, Poor ole Boudreaux had to make 3 trips on his mailboat

to deliver dem 8 maids-a-milking & der cows. One of dem cows got

spooked by da alligators and almost tipped over da boat. I doan like

dem shiftless maids, me. I told dem to get to work gutting fish and

sweeping my shack–but dey say it wasn’t in their contract. They

probably tink they too good to skin all dem nutria I caught las night.

Day 9 Dear Emile, What you trying to do? Boudreaux had to borrow da

Cameron Ferry to carry these jumping twits you call lords-a-leaping

across da bayou. As soon as dey got here dey wanted a tea break and

crumpets. I doan know what dat means but I says, “Well la di da. You

get Chicory coffee or nuthin.” Mon Dieux, Emile, what I’m gonna feed all

these bozos? They too snooty for fried nutria, and da cow ate up all my

turnip green.

Day 10 Dear Emile, You got to be out of you mind. If da mailman don’t

kill you, I will. Today he deliver 10 half nekkid floozies from Bourbon

Street. Dey said they be ladies dancing” but they doan act like ladies

in front of dem Limey sailing boys. Dey almost left after one of them

got bit by a water moccasin over by my out- house. I had to butcher 2

cows to feed toute le monde (everybody)

and get toilet paper rolls. The Sears catalog wasn’t good enough for

dem hoity toity lords. Talk at you tomorrow.

Day 11 Dear Emile, Where Y’at? Cherio and pip pip. You 11 Pipers

Piping arrived today from the House of Blues, second lining as dey got

off da boat. We fixed stuffed goose and beef jumbalaya, finished da

whiskey, and we’re having a fais-do-do. Da’ new mailman drank a bottle

of Jack Daniel, and he’s having a good old time dancing with the

floozies. Da’ old mailman done jump off the Moss Bluff Bridge

yesterday, screaming you name. If you happen to get a

mysterious-looking, ticking package in da mail, don’t open it.

Day 12 Dear Emile, Me I’m sorry to tell you–but I am not your true love

anymore. After the fais-do-do, I spent da night with Jacque, the head

piper. We decide to open a restaurant and gentlemen’s club on the

bayou. The floozies–pardon me–ladies dancing can make $20 for a table

dance, and the lords can be the waiters and valet park da boats. Since

da’ maids have no more cows to milk, I trained dem to set my crab traps,

watch my trotlines, and run my shrimping business. We’ll probably gross

a million dollars next year.

Christmas Jokes – Christmas in Brooklyn

October 27, 2007

Twas the night before Christmas, an all through the block,

Not a creature was stirring, not even Ed Kotch.

The stockings were hung, by the furnace with care.

In hopes that by morning, they’d all still be there.

Me an this skank, were just getting ready for bed.

I wore pajamas, she had a paper bag for her head.

When up on the roof, I heard a big crash,

I thought it was a burglar, I was gonna kick ass!

I went out on the fire escape, looked up in the sky,

An what did I see, but this freakin’ fat guy!

With a red suit and boots, that came up to his knees,

In the moonlight he looked, just like Dom DeLouise.

He had a big sled, being pulled by reindeer.

He called one of them Dancer, so I assumed he was queer.

As he crept off the roof, it became clear to me,

That this guy was lookin, to steal my TV!

Over his shoulder, he had a big sack.

He came down the stairs, while I planned my attack.

I waited a second, till the time it seemed ripe.

Bopped him on the head, * botta bing * with a pipe!

He fell to the floor, with a groan and a thud.

I was kinda surprised, that I didn’t see blood.

Instead he rolled over, looked me in the eye.

When I saw who I’d hit, I near started to cry.

I said “Hey ‘yo Santa, I’m sorry all right?”

“Not for nuttin” he said, “but this just ain’t my night!”

“I got lost in the Bronx, ran over some Nuns.”

“Had a near miss by Kennedy, Rudolf’s got the runs…”

“I’m out all freakin’ night, I’m bustin’ my hump.”

“But I can’t finish now, not with this lump!”

“So do me a favor, and be a real pal.”

“Take over for me…be Santa, Sal.”

I say ‘Yo! I’m from Brooklyn, I ain’t right for the part.

But he says that Santa Claus, comes from the heart.

He made me a offer, I couldn’t refuse.

Stop at every house….and this will you amuse.

I got into the suit, jumped onto the sleigh,

Wondering just why it was, reindeer smelled that way.

Took off on my mission, didn’t want to be late.

While old Nick spent the night, hosin’ my date.

That night I was Santa, bringing kids joy and bliss.

And if you don’t believe that…hey, jingle dis!

Since then I been with him, each year in the cold.

Riding shotgun with Santa, ’cause he’s fat, and he’s old.

I’m his number one helper, I been deputized.

So on this Christmas Eve, don’t you be surprised.

If you hear a voice say, real loud and abrupt.

“Merry Christmas to all, thanks alot…eh – shutup!”