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Hanukkah For Dummmies

In 168 BC,
Things looked badly for the Jews,
It seemed the Greek emperor,
Wanted them to worship Zeus.

The Jews they didn’t like this,
And the Jews said, “Oy yoy yoy,
Who is this meshuggeneh?
I think that he’s a goy!”

And so the Jews did dissent,
To the mountains they did flee,
And this brave group of rebels,
Were known as the Maccabees.

(And to avoid confusion,
And set you straight on your facts,
This wasn’t the group of hippies,
Who followed Fleetwood Mac.)

And so a war did ensue,
And it was quite a ruckus,
The Jews said “We worship freely,
Or we’re gonna kick your tokhes!”

I don’t know how they did it,
But the Jews thwarted the Greeks,
Cause I’ve read Greek mythology,
Have you seen those physiques?

They got back to their temple,
Old hang of the Greek army,
Though they did not win the war,
They sure knew how to party!

The place smelled to high heaven,
With a very potent odor,
And so the Jews said “Oy vey!
This probably’s not kosher!”

And so then they decided,
To make holiness return,
They would light a menorah,
With the oil there to burn.

But when they saw their supplies,
All the women did kvetch,
“Hey, I told you to buy more!
Now there’s barely any left!”

So the men said,”Just relax,
We’ll get more and come back.”
“But it will take you 8 days,
To get to Avi’s Glatt!”

So the women worried,
And they put up a tsimes,
But God said “Relax ladies,
Yo bubalas, I got this.”

With God as their copilot,
There was no time to toil,
They said “Let’s blow this matzah stand,
And go get us some oil!”

They returned to the menorah lit,
And nothing could be greater,
They made a righteous party,
Fit to outdo the seder.

And to give thanks to their God,
For doing the people good,
Jews spend 8 days and nights each year,
Eating fried, oil based food.

In January when they’re done,
Giving their thanks to him,
They search for the best Groupons,
So that they can join the gym.

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….and that kids, is the story of Hanukkah…

 

The Great Christmas Light Plight

For Every Christmas season,
Our dear neighbor Larry’d race,
To make a Christmas nightmare,
One could see from outer space.

Every year we hoped he’s stop,
But there he’d be with vigor,
With lights and decorations,
The excrescence got bigger.

And so me and my husband,
Tried to settle for the night,
When the sound of jingle bells,
And blinding rays of light,

Would come in through our windows,
From all sides front and back,
We knew not was it Christmas,
Or a terrorist attack.

We tried to confront Larry,
But we just became fearful,
We would ruin the poor guy’s life,
He was just so cheerful.

He told a story of how,
His mom loved to decorate,
And how this festive showing,
To her he would dedicate.

A mother’s love at Christmas,
There could be no replacement,
(But Larry was 45,
And living in her basement.)

And so every coming year,
Found us waiting in dread,
To see what new monstrosity,
Larry pulled from his shed.

An inflatable Santa,
Reindeers wearing people clothes,
A cheap version of Rudolf,
That no longer had a nose.

Mrs. Clause in a bikini,
And before you can say cheesy,
Little garden elves that were,
Suspiciously creepy!

So we had to deal with Larry’s,
Enthusiastic ways,
When it seems we didn’t see him,
For a couple of days.

At first we thought he might have,
Gotten lost by the tree light,
Made a left at Santa’s workshop,
When he should have made a right.

But days passed by and poor Larry,
Still was a no show,
So into the wilderness,
Of the Christmas lights we’d go.

It seemed some tangled wires,
Had spelled imminent danger,
And twisted ’round Larry’s neck,
He swung above the manger.

And now for the holidays,
Our town has no Christmas cheer,
And missing our poor neighbor,
It inspired an idea.

No Santa did we erect,
To recreate Larry’s site,
But just the dear guy’s likeness,
Surrounded by Christmas lights.

That goes up in November,
And comes down on New Years Day,
And somehow we know Larry,
Would have wanted it this way.

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12 Days

I had a man at Christmas who,
Was just too romantic,
I prayed the season would end soon,
I was getting frantic.

Although I must admit to you,
I was also amazed,
Same as the song, the gifts he gave,
On each of the 12 days.

(Although whether there are 12 days,
I don’t really believe,
And often only can count 2,
Those Christmas Day and Eve.)

I tried hard to control my tongue,
But soon I was reeling,
I had to let my anger out,
The hell with his feelings.

“After all this time you should know,
I’m just not a farm gal,
So take the doves, the hens, the geese,
The fowl is smelling fowl!

This partridge looks suspiciously,
Like a pigeon to me,
But either way it seems he shat,
All over the pear tree.

Ladies dancing, maids a milking,
Looks like you did recruit,
The members of the Spice Girls and,
Their entire dance troop.

The lords never will stop leaping,
Although I do suppose,
They are quite eloquently groomed,
And have great taste in clothes.

The pipers they pipe gleefully,
Which could be a delight,
If they played something other than,
Traditional bagpipes.

Those drummers drumming, there’s a gift,
That I could understand,
Until I found all 12 of them,
Already quit my band.

But those golden rings I will keep,
From my Christmas Cupid,
I may be a bit of a grinch,
But mama ain’t stupid!”

And as for my poor old boyfriend,
And what happened to him,
Well you might say that my tirade,
Ended in a win win.

I told him what I thought and he,
Didn’t run off weeping,
But with 2 milk maids on each arm,
And three lords a leaping.

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Circle of Life

I stare into her nostrils,
Held to her bosom tight,
Which threaten to spill over,
On to mountains of white.

Pressed between her and her man,
For a sloppy kiss,
Then above her head I sail,
I’m released from her fists.

And before I know it,
I’m flying off like crazy,
As the wedding band breaks out with,
‘All the Single Ladies’.

Women try to reach for me,
They bite, pull hair and claw,
Until I end up with a,
Spinster sister in law.

She puts me into water,
And now it’s up to fate,
Whether she’ll get married soon,
Or even get a date.

I’d let you know whether she,
Found romantic passion,
But, you see, she had 8 cats,
In likely spinster fashion.

So a set of fang-like teeth,
A pair of real sharp claws,
And some flying fur would be,
The last thing that I saw.

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The Eye of the Beholder

I can cook for love or money,
But I could not turn down,
The job offer at this joint by,
The high class part of town.

But the prices on the menu!
Compared with the portions!
Was this place doing fair business?
Seems more like extortion!

For as a guest comes through the door,
How was I to nourish,
With a pricey dish no more than,
Broccoli with a flourish.

The restaurant is due to close,
I’m cleaning up my station,
When I am hit by a sudden,
Wave of inspiration.

Since I’m feeling a bit hungry,
I will take this lonely,
Time in the kitchen to fix some,
Bacon macaroni.

But then suddenly it hits me,
And I’m going for bust,
When I think how great it will be,
When fixed in a pie crust.

I throw in handfuls of pork and,
Pile on Doritos,
And consider how it would taste,
Stuffed in a burrito.

Spaghettios, chicken nuggets,
Go in and no sooner,
I’m searching the shelves for Twinkies,
And a can of tuna,

My concoction almost perfect,
Although what’s missing is,
Added as I go top it off,
With mountains of Cheese Whiz.

But perhaps it was all a dream,
For the reality,
This restaurant has no such food,
There goes my fantasy.

And so It seems that instead of,
My white trash masterpiece,
I somehow managed to whip up,
A fucking veggie quiche.

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