Is there a rule that says you can no longer write new Christmas songs? you can remake the old ones but you cannot write new ones.
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What else is there to write about tho? Really this holiday has been plumbed out so much there isn't a whole lot left to say. "Oh it's cold as balls/my face is red/I look like I am drunk/which is cool/because I am/cuz winter fucking sucks/the roads are icy/my tires are bald/it's scarier the Gary Busey/I'd rather drag my balls in broken glass then see snow ever again/fuck Frosty that magical abortion/him and his hat/rather melt him with a hair dryer then sing that song again/oh hear him scream/hear him scream/what a joyous sound/next on my list/boy he makes me pissed/is that little drummer boy/that flaming queer needs to stop that shit/its drilling into my brain/I'll return the favor/with my Black and Decker/then wear his face like a mask/take a swig from my flask/and curse the heavens one last time/for here comes the final crime/Santa that fatty/he's last to go/with his fucking ho ho ho/wobbly as hell/and oh man the smell/when his belly started frying/the elves started crying/I bust out the shotty/because boy I've been naughty/and do what I do best/fuck me, winter sucks time for rest"
Posted by: Danish
279 days ago
Holy, Shit. I can only imagine the music that goes with these lyrics. Good luck at the Grammy's.
Posted by: GeneralsBitch
279 days ago
I have my acceptance speech prepared already.
Posted by: Danish
279 days ago
And, it will go down in history. Quoted for years. Memorized by school kids.
Posted by: GeneralsBitch
279 days ago
"Daddy why are you crying? Was it something that strange man said?" "Yes son, on day you will understand, and you too will weep at the sheer mad brilliance of it all."
Posted by: Danish
279 days ago
I'm bored so I wrote another Christmas song. It's called Super Spam the Christmas Ham. "Ooooh super spam/ the Christmas ham/ is soft and pink and white/ to see him playing in the snow is a joyous sight/ he's a friendly little feller/ better then that fucker Ol' Yeller/ he won't get rabies/ can't give you scabies/ and constantly smells like bacon/ now Super Spam has lots of pals/ his twisted penis popular with the gals/ he was king of the world, the thought/ completely unaware of a dastardly plot/ a thing so heinous/ worse then Rosie O'Donnell's anus/ that would send poor Spam to his doom/ it was Christmas day, all sunny and bright/ Super Spam left his house unaware of his plight/ he began to trot/ to his sacred spot/ right in the middle of town/ for the town has a feast each year/ where the villagers eat and drink beer/ some incest is had/ but it's not all bad/ when your grandpa is also your dad/ each year, you see they enjoy a roast/ and the roast they enjoy the most/ why it's ham/ little Super Spam/ that they eat every year/ but something was wrong this year/ nobody was out drinking beer/ folks ran at his sight/ began quivering in fright/ doors were bolted/ chickens molted/ but still Super Spam continued/ when he go to his spot/ he heard a loud shot/ and saw the villagers in a mob/ they had death in their eyes/ he looked up to the skies/ he sat still as a stone/ all small and alone/ till the chief of the village came/ he asked why all this hate/ wasn't pork great/ his reply came swift and true/ it's not you/ it's Swine Flu"
Posted by: Danish
277 days ago
This is a great tune - I think you're ready for Broadway - or at least, the Radio City Music Hall Christmas show!
Posted by: GeneralsBitch
277 days ago
this is more than b'kissed. this is a gourmet unto itself.
Posted by: jillbean
278 days ago
All my Ruminations get denied for some reason. I'll never figure it out, like a bra clasp.
Posted by: Danish
278 days ago
You can sample in "Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas" and the Cops theme
Posted by: guitarjim
278 days ago
hahaha fantastic!
Posted by: paolosangeles
279 days ago
-Males in their early twenties approach each new situation in life the same way we approach a new issue of Maxim magazine – first we look for the hot girls, then we check to see if there is anything else interesting going on, and when there’s not, we go about our day as usual. We are a simple species, yet so often misunderstood. For instance, if you follow entertainment news at all, you’ll know that everyone in Hollywood is freaking out because the highly coveted 18-34 male demographic doesn’t watch prime-time television anymore. I’d venture to guess that the reason for this is that Hollywood does not place enough emphasis on our three primary interests: chicks, beer and SportsCenter. This month, for the benefit of confused women and befuddled network executives alike, I’d like to take you on a journey through the world of the twentysomething guy. I have to warn you, though, it ain’t pretty.
-Guys never order fancy shit off of a drink menu. If it’s not either clear or brown, we don’t want it.
-Guys lose clothes when they get ass. Whenever a girl leaves my place in the morning and asks for something to wear, I always give her my most expendable shirt because I know I’m never getting it back. It’s like a sacrifice to the hook-up gods.
-Guys hate it when girls ask us to guess how old they are. The worst possible thing to do is offend them, so you have to make sure you guess younger than you think they actually are. Last week I met this chick at a bar and she asked me to guess how old she was. I was like, “Uh, eight?”
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