Christmas Jokes

A woman walks into a tattoo parlor a few weeks before Christmas.

She gets into the tattooists chair and tells the tattoo artist, “I want two Christmas tattoos, one on each of my inner thighs. I want a turkey on one thigh and a Christmas tree on the other.”

The tattoo artist begins his work, but is a bit confused, so he says, “Lady, I’ll do anything my customers want, but I gotta ask, why would you want a turkey on one thigh and a Christmas tree on the other?”

“Well, if you really want to know,” she firmly answers, “I’m sick and tired of my husband telling me that there’s never anything to eat between the Christmas holiday.”

Mark your calendar with the multitude of holidays to celebrate. Here’’s just a few of our favorites…

Seasonal Affective Disorder Day: January 2
With Christmas and New Years a thing of the past, now it’’s time to celebrate the long, cold, gray winter months that loom ahead.

The Day the Music Died Day: February 3
Write a sappy song about an important cultural tragedy that will annoy bar patrons for generations.

National Jingoism & Violence Day: February 4
Collect a group of two dozen or so well-trained men assigned to represent your city or region. Face off against another such group of well-trained men. Beat the living sh*t out of each other. (aka Superbowl Sunday)

A few days after Christmas, my six year son and I were talking. He asked, “Mom, is there a Santa Claus?”

“Well, what do you think?” I asked him.

He replied, “Well, my Playstation that I got and my gift from Santa were wrapped in the same kind of wrapping paper.”

He thought for a minute and said, “I’ll tell you what … you and Dad can go on buying me presents and let’s just forget we ever had this talk!”

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the skies,
Air defences were up, with electronic eyes.
Combat pilots were nestled in ready-room beds,
As enemy silhouettes danced in their heads.

Every jet on the apron, each SAM in its tube,
Was triply-redundant, linked to the Blue Cube,
And ELINT and AWACS gave coverage so dense
That nothing that flew could slip through our defence.

When out of the klaxon arose such a clatter
I dashed to the screen to see what was the matter;
I increased the gain and then, quick as a flash,
Fine-adjusted the filters to damp out the hash.

Why does Santa Claus go down the chimney on Christmas Eve? Because it soot’s him.

A woman went to the Post Office to buy stamps for her Christmas Cards. “What denomination?” asked the clerk.

“Oh, good heavens! Have we come to this?” said the woman. “Well, give me 30 Catholic, 10 Baptist ones, 20 Lutheran, and 40 Presbyterian.”

Twas the day after Christmas, and all through the house,
Every creature was hurting– even the mouse.

The toys were all broken, their batteries dead;
Santa passed out, with some ice on his head.

Wrapping and ribbons just covered the floor, while
Upstairs the family continued to snore.

And I in my T-shirt, new Reeboks and jeans,
Went into the kitchen and started to clean.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the sink to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the curtains, and threw up the sash.

It was the day after Christmas at a church in San Francisco. The pastor of the church was looking over the cradle when he noticed that the baby Jesus was missing from among the figures.

Immediately he turned and went outside and saw a little boy with a red wagon, and in the wagon was the figure of the little infant, Jesus.

So he walked up to the boy and said, “Well, where did you get Him, my fine friend?”

The little boy replied, “I got him from the church.”

“And why did you take him?”

One Christmas, mom decreed that she was no longer going to remind her children of their thank-you note duties.

As a result, their grandmother never received acknowledgments of the generous checks she had given the children for Christmas.

The next Christmas things were a little different, however.

“The children came over in person to thank me for the generous Christmas gifts” the grandparent told a friend triumphantly.

“How wonderful!” the friend exclaimed. “What do you think caused the change in behavior?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” the grandmother replied. “This year I didn’t sign the checks.”

Merry Christmas

December 14, 1972

My dearest darling John:

Who ever in the whole world would dream of getting a real Partridge in a Pear Tree? How can I ever express my pleasure. Thank you a hundred times for thinking of me this way.

My love always, Agnes

December 15, 1972

Dearest John:

Today the postman brought your very sweet gift. Just imagine two turtle doves. I’m just delighted at your very thoughtful gift. They are just adorable.

All my love, Agnes

December 16, 1972

Dear John:

Oh! Aren’t you the extravagant one. Now I must protest. I don’t deserve such generosity, three French hens. They are just darling but I must insist, you’ve been too kind.

Just before Christmas, an honest politician, a generous lawyer and Santa Claus were riding in the elevator of a very posh hotel. Just before the doors opened they all noticed a $20 bill lying on the floor. Which one picked it up?

Santa of course, because the other two don’t exist!

What do you call a chicken at the North Pole?
Lost.

What do you call a polar bear wearing ear muffs?
Anything you want. He can’t hear you!

What do you call it when your Christmas tree explodes?
A tannen-bomb. (tannenbaum)

What do you have in December that you don’t have in any other month?
The letter “D”.

Dec 25
My dearest darling Edward,
What a wonderful surprise has just greeted me! That sweet partridge, in that lovely little pear-tree; what an enchanting, romantic, poetic present! Bless you, and thank you.
Your deeply loving,
Emily

Dec. 26
Beloved Edward,
The two turtle-doves arrived this morning, and are cooing away in the pear-tree as I write. I’m so touched and grateful! With undying love, as always,
Emily

Dec. 27
My darling Edward,
You do think of the most original presents! Who ever thought of sending anybody three French hens? Do they really come all the way from France? It’s a pity we have no chicken coops, but I expect we’ll find some. Anyway, thank-you so much; they’re lovely.
Your devoted,
Emily