When I was a kid, there was one computer in the TOSH computer lab that had access to the internet on it. I was on it like white on rice and like always, I found some pretty funny ish.

The very first thing I found that had me rolling in stitches, was this thing called "Santa's Diary". Trying to find it was a bit of a pain, and I thought I should at least try and preserve it just for old times sake!


                              SANTA'S DIARY
Copyright 1992, Dan McLean Jr
Contains some harsh language

December 21
Dear Diary,
Had one bitch of a day at the workshop today. Tricycle seats are back-ordered 'til January 19 and the Elves are refusing to put my name on the gift tags, so, I had to meet with the workshop union steward to sort everything out. Apparently, they're peeved about the 'Top Ten List' I read on Letterman last week: Top Ten Reasons Santa Decided To Have The Elves Neutered. (Oversensitive Elf Teamsters can be a real pain in the ass, even though that Kennedy-killer Hoffa is pushing up the daisies.) Anyway, at 2:30 I had to show up at a sportscard show for autographs. Upper Deck has just released the 'Holographic Yuletide' set and my agent thought it'd be a good idea for me to put in an appearance. By the time I got home, the Mrs was just finishing dessert and was watching the end of Jeopardy. I was beat. She warmed up what was left of dinner, but even her left-overs are good enough to make me think I'd marry her all over again.

December 22
Dear Diary,
Ran into that rat bastard the Easter Bunny at the liquor store today. As God is my witness, if I ever get the chance, that bunny's gonna be reindeer food before you can say sauté with onions, add rice, and serve. At the liquor store, neither of us said a word, but when he wasn't looking, I slipped a mickey into his pocket and watched a security guard tackle him into the slush after the unwitting hair-brained hare tripped the electronic shoplifting detector on his way out the door. While he was busy trying to talk his way out of it by claiming diplomatic immunity, I broke the side window on his canary-yellow Miata, reached in, and made a call on his cellular ... 1-416-976-OUCH ... 'The Spank Line'. I listened for a minute or two, then just left the handset on the seat and walked away, the girl on the other end still scolding & spanking like a handler backstage at 'Beverly Hills 90210'. All this at $4.99 per minute. Three-quarters of an hour later, as I was loading groceries into the back of my mini-van, he was finally being released from the liquor store. As soon as he spied his car-phone through the broken window of his car he looked for me. I burned rubber outta there. Rat bastard rabbit. All-in-all, a very good day.

December 23
Dear Diary,
Most of the gifts we have parts for are built, and since the company Christmas party is tonight, I sent most of the Elves over to the Legion hall to get the decorations & catering ready. The place looked great and the food was amazing! By about 10:30, there were reindeer prancing around holding mistletoe over their heads, and Elves, blitzed on peach schnapps, dancing on the tables. A couple of them were giggling and passing out copies of Mrs Claus sitting on the photocopier. We all danced & sang, and all was well & good until... that rat bastard, the Easter Bunny, crashed our little soiree with only 3 bottles left in his case of 24. My blood was boiling, but I knew that if I tried to stand up long enough to pummel him, I'd puke. I had to come up with a 'Plan B', not an easy task when you're full of the old Christmas 'spirits', but I managed to come up with one beauty of a little scheme. He was already almost unconscious. He was so bad, in fact, that he was actually singing Christmas carols with us, and calling me his 'old buddy', his arm around me, trying to kiss me on the forehead. It took only two shots of tequila to make him pass out. We leapt/staggered to action. We put a HUGE pot of lukewarm water in the middle of the room and lowered the rabbit into it, being careful not to wake him. Then we looted the caterer
>for some onions, carrots, potatoes & parsley and tossed them in. I put on a big old chef's hat and an apron that said 'Kiss The Cook', and everyone else sat around the pot with plates and cutlery, making like we were going to munch on the little cottontail chump. We managed to stay awake and kept drinking for a couple more hours, waiting for him to wake up, and it was worth the wait. As soon as he started to come around, I slipped some dry ice from the deli tray into the pot. He woke up thinking he was dinner, and vaulted from the pot, screaming like Yoko Ono on bikini-waxing day. During his sprint for the door, he spilled water all over the floor and busted a window, but what the hell, that's what the security deposit is for. Besides, we haven't laughed so hard since we barnstormed right through Rabbi Feldman's synagogue on Yom Kippur. Rat bastard rabbit.

December 24
Dear Diary,
I'm almost ready to leave, and this is probably the only chance I'll get to write today. Most of the Elves are pretty hung over today, but we're all still chuckling over our little prank with our arch-rival last night, and all the last minute stuff is getting done. The tricycle seats that were back-ordered arrived today and that's the final job. We let the reindeer sleep it off today since they've got a long, hard night ahead of them, and Mrs Claus has just gone to wake them up. You know, I don't think she's seen the photocopy of her that's taped to the lunchroom refrigerator. This really has been a good year, even in light of the squabbles between myself and the union. Next to Mrs Claus, the Elves really are my best friends, and I'm pretty sure they feel the same way about me. Along with the reindeer, we're a family, in a twisted sort of a way, and that seems to mean a lot more to us at this time of year. I guess that's what Christmas is all about. After tonight, I think I'll sleep right through to New Year's Eve. We're all invited to a kegger at Elvis Presley's.