Mistletoe is now Illegal in the South due to Excessive Mutant Births

Ah, tis the season for brain hemorages, excessive debt and drinking binges that last an entire month! Nothing warms my heart more then seeing the bright eyes and never-ending lolipop dreams and gumdrop smiles in a child that has asked for a pony or world peace in an attempt to scam Santa into giving them more loot for Christmas. Well, eating popcorn late at night gives me heartburn so I guess that warms my heart more then the kids who won't get the insane amount of perephernalia they asked for while at the same time wasting mom and dad's stamps when they mail their 50-pound list to the 'north pole' to get it to 'Santa', making sure to grease the wheels asking how 'Rudolf' is and if the 'elves' have a good 'union' or where he and 'Mrs. Claus' met, in poor penmanship utilizing crayon and sweet backwards letters, on paper that has spaghetti sauce stains endorning it's pathetic dog-eared "hugged with love" appearence.

Ok, sorry for that...I wanted to break the record for the longest sentence written in the ZCCNL for 2005. I promise I took breaths and used the bathroom twice during it's inception. Oh and by the way, thanks go out to my Mom and to Leslie who pointed out to me last month that if midgets were being born multi-colored, we could surely have Ooma Loompas if they popped out orange. Thanks for correcting my gross oversight!

Has anyone else been casually keeping tabs on Saddam Hussein's trial? Here I figgured it would be the next OJ case, not being able to go anywhere without hearing commentary or media bytes about it, but surprisingly the only remnants I've seen of reports have been on Yahoo and AOL news sites. Anyone else things he looks like an old grizzled Justin Timberlake? No? alright then...

Ah Mr. Hussein...I remember the 4th grade...Mrs Prebble's class...1990-1991...The Gulf War was in full swing and none of us kids knew anything about it since we were too busy trying to get excessive government grants in an attempt to cure cooties, asking why the lunch lady's armpits were that color, all while failing math. I recall once when we had a substitute (one of my classmate's moms to be exact) who, instead of sticking to the lesson plan and continuing our previous study on why long division is essential for our future jobs as gas station attendants and ditch diggers, decided she should fill us in on current events. I don't remember much of her rant since at those days I always had out a piece of paper drawing Ninja Turtles in a willy-nilly fashion, but I do remember the scarring sentence of "If Saddam Hussein were to invade the United States he'd line you all up by the ditch in back of the school and shoot you execusion style." While the rest of my classmates sat wide-eyed, jaws agape, I pondered that tidbit (that would give a lesser child nightmares for the rest of their lives) for approxiamtely five second before returning to my doodle of Leonardo goreing The Shredder with his sweet kitana blades.

Huh...well that memory wasn't very Christmas-y was it? Oh well, now picture the same situation except Saddam Hussein is wearing a Santa outfit, and rather then the image of him slaughtering a bunch of 9 and 10 year olds, his bullets are candy canes and presents and the ditch the bodies fall in is a big tub of ice cream. "Now thats what I call a sticky situation!"

Wow....dark.

To change gears and end with a little holiday spirit, here's my rendition of "'Twas the Night Before Christmas"

Disclaimer: NO it's not supped to rhyme or stay in the correct syllable format, it is for entertainment use only and should not be taken internally. Also, it may seem like I'm ruthlessly ripping on my Great Uncle that lives next door to us however he really is seriously awesome...but he does like the 'sauce!

Happy Holidays everyone! Have a safe New Year and I promise I'll be back to annoy you all in 2006!

'Twas the night before christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even the snake Lee says lives in our walls.

No stockings were hung by the chimney with care since we don't have a chimney and we know if Santa were real he'd have had massive heart failure by the 1930's.

Matt is all nestled snug in his bed (because he has a career and has to get up early), While visions of Jenna and Kobi poledanced in his head

And Lee in his skivvies and I headlocking the cat, had just settled down to watch Aqua Teen Hunger Force, South Park or Family Guy.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, Lee and I sprang up at once to catch that cursed egg vandal in the act.

Away to the front door we flew like The Flash(TM) with cans of Red Bull in hand to throw with no intentions other then to severly injure the tresspassor with hemhorrages and cerebral buising.

The moon on the breast of the 2 centimeters of snow made the neighborhood look like it might have been lit up like the freakin' sun.

But to what should our bloodlust-filled eyes should appear, a thin sillouette and eight empty cans of beer.

With a little wheezing laugh we figgured out quick this was no cursed egg-er, it was Butch from next door!

More rapid then eagles his gas came and went, and he catcalled and shouted at invisible friends.

"Hey Basher, Hey Rancher! Hey Supermax and Nixon! Yo Groucho, Yo Brutus, Yo Axer and Blitzer! To the end of the street, then back to the house! Now flash away, flash away, flash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, off went Butch's pants (heaped in a pile), And off to the stopsign and back Butch sprinted, giggling insessently like a young schoolgirl.

And then in a twinkling we heard Butch say something about 'It's a Wonderful life' and Pabst Blue Ribbon.

As we shrugged our shoulders and were turning around accross our lawn Butch came quite swiftly abounding up to our door.

He had nothing on save for one white T-Shirt, laughing about some random joke he saw on 'Scrubs' the night before.

A bundle of booze he pulled from under our porch, making us question exactly what else he had under there.

His eyes how they sparkled, his skin red from cold! His cheeks hot and bothered, his nose red like Boris Yeltson.

His droll little mouth smirked wide with evil glee, leading us to believe there was no possible way he was up to any good.

The tail end of a ciggarette he held tight in his teeth, and the smoke cirled upward, migling with the freaking inversion we always get this time of year.

He had a sweet face and a nude little belly, that shook when he chortled right round like a recond (You spin me right round baby right round? get it? Ah to heck with you guys...)

He seemed happy and drunk, a right harmless old coot. And I laughed when I saw him, mainly out of sheer awkwardness at seeing my great uncle nude.

A wink of his eye and a flip-off-ing finger made Lee and I chuckle, but not want to linger (there's your rhyme, Liz!)

He spoke no more words and began to shimmy, like the picture of him on his mantle at a party, shimmying naked from the waist down, beer still in hand (I'm totally serious about this)

And giving us a finger we knew all too well, he snickered and chuckled "I'll see both of you in hell[ena Montana of course]!"

He sprang off the porch back to his home, leaving his pants in our front yard where we'll ignore them 'till June.

Lee and I looked at each other, then shook our heads, and returned inside to play Street Fighter on Sega Saturn


Ok, so it's not the best ripoff ever, but I wouldn't trash on one of yours, even if it did suck as bad as this. So take off, by krikey!

This is Zach, signing off for 2005 as always saying "Please don't add me to your block list"