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Kiwis Put The Kebash On Santa's Ho –– Father Christmas has been told to stop saying: "ho ho ho" in New Zealand because it frightens children.  Sian Barber, of Westaff Recruitment, which is finding Santas for shopping malls, told The Dominion newspaper that the traditional shout was scary.  "We're trying to divert them off going 'ho ho ho'. . . for some children it can seem a bit ferocious," she said.  Instead, in this new, sensitive age, Santas are being taught that talking to children the right way was important, as was the ability to listen, show patience, warmth and understanding.  "We need someone who has an affinity with children, someone who can really understand the importance of what they represent," Ms Barber said.  "That's important for the children, and for the mall owners because they are big drawcards."


A (Modern) Visit from St. Nicholas by Lin in Kansas

Lin's Comments:  I'm having a deal of trouble getting in the spirit this year, so cynicism seemed the only way to go –– this is just a recitation with asides, no tune.  Thanks for letting me rant!


Twas the night before Christmas (Christians and non-, please apply your own interpretation to this holiday) and all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse (We poisoned all the mice before we had the cat declawed).
The stockings (all the same size and kind--no favoritism among OUR children) were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas (see this link for alternate names) soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads (being guiltily replaced with visions of celery sticks and carrots per Mom's lectures, or in the case of Sarah, 13, with visions of stuffing herself and then vomiting it all up so she won't gain weight);
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap (gotta get some more Rogaine for both of us soon . . .)
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap (after watching CNN News, Jerry Springer, and It's A Wonderful Life).

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter (wishing it was all right for an enlightened person to own a gun).
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash (at this point, most people would dial 9-1-1).
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below (Damned weatherman was wrong again; and oh, Lord, it's a full moon and the crazies are out!),
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer (I'm gonna sue that opthalmologist – and LensCrafters, too . . .)

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick (or some addict hyped up on drugs).
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name (yep, definitely drugs);
"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!" (or maybe it was that last two or three gin and tonics I had at bedtime??)

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too. (You know, maybe those 12-step meetings aren't so bad, after all . . .)
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. (Oh Gawd! Aural hallucinations, too?!!)
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound. ("Don't shoot! There's Valium in the medicine cabinet!! You can have it – just leave me two, that's all I ask!!")
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, (Animal rights people, where are you?)
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot; (He's probably homeless; who else would dress like that?)
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, (Pedophile! Luring the little kids!)
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack. (Geez, look at all the stuff –– I bet he's gonna steal everything not nailed down.)

His eyes –– how they twinkled! his dimples how merry! (obviously a psychopath)
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! (and a drunk, too)
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow; (well, at least he washes his hair)
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath; (Hey! This is a non-smoking household!! Take that out on the porch!!)
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly. (Anyone ever told this guy about Weight Watchers?)

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself; (Please believe me, I was laughing WITH you, not AT you!)
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread; (Thank you so much for your understanding . . . you weirdo . . .)
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
(Do you speak English??) And laying his finger aside of his nose,
(DO . . . YOU . . . SPEAK . . . ENGLISH?? Stupid foreigner!) And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose; (And they worry about Harry Potter!!)
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. (Hey! That's against FAA regulations!!)
But I heard him exclaim, ere he flew out of sight,
"Happy Christmas To All, And To All A Good-Night." (At least there wasn't any of that nasty Ho-Ho-Ho-ing that terrifies the little kids...you know, the kids who watch Friday the 13th and all those other splatter movies...)

(Where's my Palm Pilot? "Make Appt. w/shrink 12/26 9AM"...Sure will be glad when December's over.)

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