We Are Not Yet Through With Christmas

This here is a pitcher some guy took up at the North Pole or some place where Santa hangs out. As he says, you ain't gonna see nothin' like this much -- bunch of suns and moons hanging low like buttcrack. Anyways, if you want to steal this for a desktop, feel free. Ain't mine.

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Alternative ending to "'Twas the Night Before Christmas", from the folks at the Rock-a-Way Rest Home (the picture below is courtesy of Hale McKay):

A strange little fellow flew in through the door,
Then tripped on the sill and fell flat on the floor.
'Twas just our director, all togged out in red,
He jiggled and chuckled and patted each head.

We knew from the way that he strutted and jived,
Our Social Security checks had arrived.
We sang -- how we sang -- in our monotone croak,
Till the clock tinkled out its soft 8-p.m. stroke.

And soon we were snuggling deep in our beds,
While nurses distribued nocturnal meds.
And so ends our Christmas at Rock-a-Way Rest,
'fore long you'll be with us. We wish you the best.

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In the Washington Post, readers were asked to list a movie and give an alternative title. One entry:

"The Alamo": "Immigration Reform: The Early Years".

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My favorite phrase today is changing times. N., when you and I were young, Maggie. Def.: Remembering when the air was clean and sex was dirty. --George Burns.