Q: What song should you sing to a wildebeest on his birthday?

A: “Happy Birthday To Gnu!”

* 1 cup water
* 1 cup sugar
* 4 large eggs
* 2 cups dried fruit
* 1 teaspoon baking soda
* 1 teaspoon salt
* 1 cup brown sugar
* lemon juice
* nuts
* 1 gallon whiskey

Sample the whiskey to check for quality. Take out a large bowl. Check the whiskey again to be sure it is of the highest quality. Pour one level cup and drink. Repeat. Turn on the electric mixer; beat 1 cup butter in a large, fluffy bowl. Add 1 teaspoon sugar and beat again. Make sure the whiskey is still okay. Cry another tup. Turn off mixer. Break 2 legs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit. Mix on the turner. If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaterers, pry it loose with a drewscriver. Sample the whiskey to check for tonsisticity. Next, sift 2 cups of salt. Or something. Who cares? Check the whiskey. Now sift the lemon juice and strain your nuts. Add one table. Spoon. Of sugar or something. Whatever you can find. Grease the oven. Turn the cake tin to 350 degrees. Don’t forget to beat off the turner. Throw the bowl out of the window. Check the whiskey again. Go to bed. Who the hell likes fruitcake anyway?

Santa is GAY! I hate to be the one to defy sacred myth, but I believe Santa’s gay. Christmas is a big, organized, warm, fuzzy, nurturing social deal, and I have a tough time believing a straight man could possibly pull it all off! For starters, think about the planning that goes into an event like Christmas. Even Martha Stewart is envious.

Straight men have day jobs, so they wouldn’t have time to stand at the local shopping malls and ring a bell all day. But if you’re a gay, out-of-work Actor/Dancer/Waiter it’s the perfect gig until you get your big break. Also, if he were straight he would have picked a more masculine animal than the reindeer to get him around, like horses or oxen, but the reindeer just happens to appeal to Santa’s inherent sense of grace and beauty. And those names: Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen? Fill in the blanks.

Mrs. Claus has been married to him for eons and he’s never fathered a child with her, she’s over-weight and still content… Can you say “Fag-hag”?

Ever thought about the Rudolph story? He’s gay too! “All of the other reindeer used to laugh and call him names. They never let poor Rudolph join in any reindeer games.” (as if he wanted to). Isn’t Rudolph really a metaphor for the gay child in a straight society anyway?

Ever ask yourself why fruitcake is the traditional dessert at Christmas time? Well, now you know. And stop pretending you don’t like it. Deep down inside, you’ve always liked fruitcake.

Other reasons why Santa can’t possibly be a straight man:

* Look at the size of the bag he packs for a one night trip!
* Red velvet, fur collar, black engineer boots… think people!
* Physically he’s a wet dream for the Girth and Mirth club and the perfect poster model for GMSMA.
* Gay men have long been using stockings to hide their candy.
* Ho Ho / Homo… a little too similar if you ask me.
* That long over-night flight around the world taps into the flight attendant gene. And one more thing, did you ever know a straight man named Nicholas? Oh, straight society has tried to butch up his image by calling him St. Nick, but we know better. It’s Nicholas, damn it! Ms. Claus if you’re nasty. Merry Christmas!

Q: What do you call the reindeer with one eye higher than the other?
A: Isaiah!

::bodytext::One fine day in Ireland, a guy is out golfing and gets up to the 16th hole. He tees up and cranks one. Unfortunately, it goes into the woods on the side of the fairway.
He goes looking for his ball and comes across this little guy with this huge knot on his head, and the golf ball lying right beside him. “Goodness,” says the golfer, and proceeds to revive the poor little guy.
Upon awaking, the little guy says, “Well, you caught me fair and square. I am a leprechaun. I will grant you three wishes.”
The man says, “I can’t take anything from you, I’m just glad I didn’t hurt you too badly,” and walks away.
Watching the golfer depart, the leprechaun thinks, “Well, he was a nice enough guy, and he did catch me, so I have to do something for him. I’ll give him the three things that I would want. I’ll give him unlimited money, a great golf game, and a great love life.”

Well, a year goes past (as they often do in jokes like this) and the same golfer is out golfing on the same course at the 16th hole. He gets up and hits one into the same woods and goes off looking for his ball. When he finds the ball he sees the same little guy and asks how he is doing.
The leprechaun says, “I’m fine, and might I ask how your golf game is?”
The golfer says, “It’s great! I hit under par every time.”

The leprechaun says, “I did that for you. And might I ask how your money is holding out?”
The golfer says, “Well, now that you mention it, every time I put my hand in my pocket, I pull out a ten pound note.”
The leprechaun smiles and says, “I did that for you. And might I ask how your love life is?”
The golfer looks at him a little shyly and says, “Well, I have a date maybe once or twice a week.”
The leprechaun is floored and stammers, “Only once or twice a week?!”
The golfer, a little embarrassed, looks at him and says, “Well, that’s not too bad for a Catholic priest in a small parish.”