Officials with The National Security Agency announced today that Santa Claus (AKA: St. Nicklaus, Nicky The Saint, The Lapman, Fluffy Cuffs, The Chimney Packer, Make It Reindeer, Mr. In-The-Present) has been arrested and taken into custody and is being held in an undisclosed location (“Guantanamo,” a little bird told The Lint Screen over four fingers of Canadian Whiskey and two bumps of Peruvian Avalanche).
Claus had been under suspicion for some time and was nabbed as part of an elaborate sting operation in which NSA personnel posed as “good little boys and girls” who wanted him to come to their house late at night. The alleged children promised “cookies and milk” as bait.
“This Claus character has been the subject of a lot of chatter on the internet,” said an NSA spokesman, “and his name has been mentioned in countless phone calls we’ve intercepted over the past weeks. Obviously, his interest in children is disturbing and given his obsession with knowing who’s been bad or good, well, we thought we’d better take him in for goodness sake. This guy’s a primetime terrorist suspect and we certainly don’t need some whack job ruining Christmas for everyone.”
The National Security Agency reported today that it has launched a full scale investigation into a terrorist cell group located in the North Pole region.
“This could be huge,” said the unnamed source who stood in the shadows and spoke through a kazoo to scramble his voice.
The anonymous source said that the NSA has been monitoring “significant chatter” and “an avalanche of mail from children” being sent to the North Pole. “The weird thing is,” said the deep throat as he peeled a banana, “there isn’t even a post office there.” He then took a big bite of the banana. “Got to get my potassium.”
Asked if there were any details on when the terrorist group might strike, the shadowy figure shrouded himself in an invisibility cloak. “We’re pretty confident this group will mobilize on the evening of December 24.”
This reporter then heard footsteps running away before slipping on a banana peel. The intrepid reporter heard a body thump to the pavement and as a string of obscenities were shouted.
Obama pardons Popcorn, before all hell breaks loose.
It is a White House tradition for the President to pardon a turkey just before Thanksgiving, but this year Barack Obama put a spin on it–– he had two birds with their necks on the chopping block and put it up to an internet vote which would be dressed to kill.
Then, Obama ignored the will of the people and pardoned both “Popcorn” and “Caramel”, the two Minnesota gobblers who are now suspected in a killing rampage.
Since the two toms flew the coop, nine turkey farmers across America have suffered mysterious and brutal deaths. The only clue at the scene of each crime has been a note in chicken-like scratch reading “Who’s sorry now?! You’ve been served by Popcorn & Caramel.”
Authorities are looking for the big birds but have no clue as to their whereabouts. Many conservatives are blaming Obama.
“If he hadn’t let those gobblers loose, we wouldn’t be under siege from rogue turkeys,” said one right winger. We should have been eating them, instead of feasting on fear that they’re seeking revenge.”
Randy Snogslougher changed his opinion before he snapped
For the first time in recorded history, a person’s opinion was changed at a Thanksgiving dinner.
On Thursday, November 28, at 1:42 p.m., Tom Wheddlekupp engaged in a spirited debate with his brother-in-law, Randy Snogslougher on the Affordable Care Act during his family’s annual Thanksgiving dinner celebration. The men had almost come to blows in previous years as they debated politics and religion over bites of turkey, mashed taters and cranberries, but amazingly, Snogslougher yielded to his brother-in-law and agreed that “people shouldn’t have to die because they don’t have affordable health insurance.” The table of 14 adults and the adjacent kid’s table of six was aghast at the shifted point of view.
“Most times, those two face off and don’t give an inch on nothing,” said Sarah Wheelekupp, the hostess of the dinner.
Unfortunately, at 1:56 p.m., Mr. Snogslougher brutally killed his brother-in-law with an electric knife. “I couldn’t take that guy’s pinko crap any longer,” he said as he was led from the family home in handcuffs. “I hope they have better turkey in prison. Ours was a little dry this year.”
K. Willis Creekstrum of Huntsville, Alabama always fondly recalled April 19, 1923. “I was but a pup,” he’d say with teary eyes, “only ten years old, and I was playing out in front of our house. This was back when pappy lost his job working the mill. We were poor. Back then, most suppers were just porterhouse steaks, only an inch and three-quarters thick, somewhat chewy and without a terribly satisfying beef flavor, caesar salads that were crisp and flavorful but with fresh-grated Parmesan cheese that lacked body and complexity, plus baked potatoes. We were so dirt poor we could only dress those spuds with butter, bacon bits, cheddar cheese and sour cream. No chives at all, we couldn’t afford that kind of fancy garnishment–– can you imagine such a thing?! Dessert would be some fresh strawberry shortcake with whipped cream or chocolate cake and ice cream. Amazing to think our family survived such a meager spread. Anyways, like I say, I was playing out front when I looked down and what do you think I saw on the sidewalk? Well, sir, if you hold your gosh darn horses I’ll tell you. I saw me a shiny penny. As God is my witness, I looked down and there was President Abraham Lincoln, the inventor of Lincoln Logs, looking right up at me and I swear he smiled. Well, sir, I reckon my heart skipped a beat or twelve. I dove on that shiny penny fast– before my brother older Pete saw it. Pete was awful mean, had him a terrible bad temper. He used to ask me how I was feeling and before I could answer, he’d punch me in the stomach, smack a crowbar across my kneecaps and gouge my eyeballs with razor blades. Pete grew up to be a famous psychotic killer. Got his name and picture in all the newspapers. He was the ambitious one in our family, Pete was. Anyway, I took that shiny penny and put it in my pocket and I said right then and there that this is my lucky day and I’ll bet this shiny penny will bring me nothing but good luck all the days of my life.”
How wrong K. Willis Creekstrum was!
Yes, Creekstrum would meet and marry the girl of his dreams, Amanda Hugginstuff, and they would have six beautiful, successful children and 14 beautiful, successful grandchildren and 17 quite attractive, relatively successful great grandchildren and he’d win $58 million in the lottery and be awarded a Pulitzer Prize for a haiku poem he wrote on a Denny’s napkin and a Nobel Peace Prize for handsomeness, but yesterday his luck ran out when he died at age 101.
Relatives at his death bed report that he clutched his now dull “lucky penny” in his right fist and said, “I’ve been cheated! What a damn gyp!”
K. Willis Creekstrum will be buried with his ironic “lucky penny” and as a trumpet plays “Taps” a trombonist will play “Wah Wah Wah!”
Slightly used ballpark available for occupancy in 2017. Still has that “new stadium smell” of hot dogs, popcorn, beer breath.
Built in 1997, this spacious structure harkens back to a simpler time when sports franchises were loyal to their hometown’s downtown. It features a beautiful baseball diamond, cozy pitcher’s mound, meticulously-maintained foul lines, plush bases, tidy home plate, recently-painted outfield fences–– the whole shebang! Must see to appreciate!
FEATURES:
+ Seating for 50,096 of your closest friends
+ Warm, gooey, oozing ‘2009 nacho cheese on tap
+ Rather large screen TV (sorry, lost the remote)
+ Great views of downtown
+ Luxury lofts and parking galore
Act now and make an offer. Must sell– relocating!
We’re in a dealing mood, let’s talk!
