Emails Worth Sharing!!
Saturday, December 24, 2005
I just thought that every once in a while I'd post some of the really cool emails I get. Hope you enjoy them!! Someone once said that one posts these when they have nothing to write....Okay...I confess....Not really, I just wanted to share them because they are either funny or cool as hell....The following are a bit of both!! Hope you enjoy them!!
What's Christmas Without a Corny Joke or Two?...A Good Christmas!!
A Parrot Named Chet
One Christmas Eve, a frenzied young man ran into a pet shop looking
for an unusual Christmas gift for his wife.
The shop owner suggested a parrot, named Chet, which could sing famous Christmas carols.
This seemed like the perfect gift. "How do I get him to sing?"
The young man asked excitedly.
"Simply hold a lighted match directly under his feet like this," was the shop owner's reply.
Chet began to sing "Jingle Bells! Jingle Bells! ..
The shop owner then held another match under the parrot's right foot.
Then Chet's tune changed, and the air was filled with "Silent Night, Holy Night..."
The young man was so impressed that he paid the shop-keeper
and ran home as quickly as he could with Chet under his arm.
When the wife saw her gift she was overwhelmed. "How beautiful!"
She exclaimed, "Can he talk?"
"No," the young man replied, "But he can sing. Let me show you."
So the young man whipped out his lighter and placed it under Chet's left foot,
as the shop-keeper had shown him, and Chet crooned, "Jingle Bells!
The man then moved the lighter to Chet's right foot, and out came, "Silent Night. Holy Night..."
The wife, her face filled with curiosity, then asked, "What if we hold the lighter between his legs?"
The man did not know. "Let's try it," he answered, eager to please his wife.
So they held the lighter between Chet's legs. Chet twisted his face,
cleared his throat, and sang out loudly (like it was the performance of his life)
"Chet's nuts roasting on an open fire...."
Thank a soldier now...dammit....
The Christmas Poem
Twas the night before Christmas
He lived all alone
in a one bedroom house made of
plaster and stone.
I had come down the chimney
with presents to give,
and to see just who
in this home did live.
I looked all about,
a strange sight I did see,
no tinsel, no presents,
not even a tree.
No stocking by mantle,
just boots filled with sand,
on the wall hung pictures
of far distant lands.
With medals and badges,
awards of all kinds,
a sober thought
came through my mind.
For this house was different,
it was dark and dreary,
I found the home of a soldier,
once I could see clearly.
>>>
The soldier lay sleeping,
silent, alone,
curled up on the floor
in this one bedroom home.
The face was so gentle,
the room in such disorder,
not how I pictured
a United States soldier.
Was this the hero
of whom I 'd just read?
Curled up on a poncho,
the floor for a bed?
I realized the families
that I saw this night,
owed their lives to these soldiers
who were willing to fight.
Soon round the world,
the children would play,
and grown-ups would celebrate
a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom
each month of the year,
because of the soldiers,
like the one lying here.
I couldn't help wonder
how many lay alone,
on a cold Christmas eve
in a land far from home.
The very thought
brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees
and started to cry.
The soldier awakened
and I heard a rough voice,
"Santa don't cry,
this life is my choice;
I fight for freedom,
I don't ask for more,
My life is my God,
my country, my Corps."
The soldier rolled over
and drifted to sleep,
I couldn't control it
I continued to weep.
I kept watch for hours,
so silent and still
and we both shivered
from the cold night's chill.
I didn't want to leave
on that cold, dark night,
this guardian of honor
so willing to fight.
Then the soldier rolled over,
with a voice soft and pure,
whispered, "Carry on Santa,
It's Christmas day, all is secure."
One look at my watch,
and I knew he was right.
"Merry Christmas my friend
and to all a good night."
Twas the night before Christmas
He lived all alone
in a one bedroom house made of
plaster and stone.
I had come down the chimney
with presents to give,
and to see just who
in this home did live.
I looked all about,
a strange sight I did see,
no tinsel, no presents,
not even a tree.
No stocking by mantle,
just boots filled with sand,
on the wall hung pictures
of far distant lands.
With medals and badges,
awards of all kinds,
a sober thought
came through my mind.
For this house was different,
it was dark and dreary,
I found the home of a soldier,
once I could see clearly.
>>>
The soldier lay sleeping,
silent, alone,
curled up on the floor
in this one bedroom home.
The face was so gentle,
the room in such disorder,
not how I pictured
a United States soldier.
Was this the hero
of whom I 'd just read?
Curled up on a poncho,
the floor for a bed?
I realized the families
that I saw this night,
owed their lives to these soldiers
who were willing to fight.
Soon round the world,
the children would play,
and grown-ups would celebrate
a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom
each month of the year,
because of the soldiers,
like the one lying here.
I couldn't help wonder
how many lay alone,
on a cold Christmas eve
in a land far from home.
The very thought
brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees
and started to cry.
The soldier awakened
and I heard a rough voice,
"Santa don't cry,
this life is my choice;
I fight for freedom,
I don't ask for more,
My life is my God,
my country, my Corps."
The soldier rolled over
and drifted to sleep,
I couldn't control it
I continued to weep.
I kept watch for hours,
so silent and still
and we both shivered
from the cold night's chill.
I didn't want to leave
on that cold, dark night,
this guardian of honor
so willing to fight.
Then the soldier rolled over,
with a voice soft and pure,
whispered, "Carry on Santa,
It's Christmas day, all is secure."
One look at my watch,
and I knew he was right.
"Merry Christmas my friend
and to all a good night."
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