In my Bible readin' days, I used to know shit. For example... snakes talk to women in gardens, fishermen wear robes and sandals, frankincense really is a thing, and a 600 year old man can convince two elephants to get on a boat. If I may dazzle you with another little nugget of Biblical knowledge, the Epiphany falls exactly TWELVE DAYS after Jesus Harold was born unto Mary and the unsuspecting Joseph, who was still trying to figure out exactly how this happened. If only there was a Maury Povich back then.
|Stand back... here comes the lightning strike.|
True love my ass!!! Seven fucking swans a swimming??? Where the hell am I gonna keep seven swans? I got rid of my pool last year, fahchrissake! What happened honey? Was the store all out of seven dogs a shitting???
Every year, this fukkin' song jumps into our lives. It's usually at one of those torturous elementary school "Winter Concerts" that used to be called Christmas Concerts until school boards across the nation had their balls cut off by political correctness horseshit. Some fukkin' Keith Lockhart wannabe music teacher with a fat ass and a bad suit lines up thirty 7 year olds in chocolate stained shirts and clip on ties, puts antlers on their heads and expects these cute little assholes to recite the lyrics when they haven't even learned how to say spaghetti yet.
Question: Is the first gift the partridge or the pear tree or both. Admit it... the only partridges you have ever seen were riding in a kaleidoscope bus, singing shitty songs. (ADHD moment... wouldn't Reuben Kincaid and Alice from the Brady Bunch make a cute couple?)
So tell me, asshole true love of mine - what the hell am I going to do with one bird and a tree? I don't even like pears, fahchrissake! They give me the shits. What is with all the fucking birds you are giving out? Seems like someone might have a fetish that they are keeping quiet. Partridges, doves, hens, geese, swans... SHEEEZ!!! Ya know I'm just gonna set them sunzobitches free and go get a beer, right?
By the way, I'm operating under the premise that the true love in this fucking song is a chick. Cuz there is no way any dude is going through the trouble of gift wrapping leaping lords or swimming swans. On the sixth day, she gives the poor son of a bitch 6 geese a laying.... now, are these geese laying eggs or are they doing the haystack hump? And on the 8th day, what does he get? He gets 8 maids a milking.... great, eight chicks pulling on cow tits - just what a guy wants. How about if she gave him 8 maids a milking 9 dancing ladies? NOW WE ARE TALKING!!!!
Dear True Love,
If you insist on buying me gifts for twelve days instead of that motorboat I have been asking for, I would like the following:
2nd day: Tickets to the Big House for the Michigan - OSU game next year.
3rd day: Sofia Vergara. PLEASE!
4th day: A matte black 2016 Road Glide with 8 inch apes and a set of Rinehart Duals. If ya have to ask, then you can go now.
5th day: A fifth of Jack and some peace and quiet
6th day: A lap dance from your hot friend from college. You never should have introduced me.
7th day: Airfare and tickets to a Jackson Taylor show in Texas.
8th day: Sofia Vergara. PRETTY PLEASE!
9th day: 9 ladies dancing to Motley Crue's Girls Girls Girls wearing nothing but glitter and plastic heels.
10th day: More ladies dancing: Gisele, Shakira and Jennifer Lopez, thank you.
11th day: A 30 pack of PBRs and a plate of wings. And some two ply toilet paper.
12th day: One backrub with a happy ending for the Epiphany. Come on, every Christmas story has a happy ending!!!