'Twas the Night Before Parodies

  1. #1
    The_Kitchen_Guy's Avatar
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    Last week, Rae posted a parody of the classic 'Twas the Night Before Christmas and it got me to thinking about parodies of one of the most beloved Christmas poems/stories of the last few generations. In advance, I offer apologies to Clement Clarke Moore for what I'm about to do.

    First, back in the 1940s and 1950s, there was a disc jockey in Milwaukee that went by the on-air name of Mad Man Michaels. At that time, the ethnic makeup of Milwaukee was very German, very Italian and very Polish. Michaels was of Polish descent and often did comedy bits on the air using fractured English with lots of Polish tossed in. He was also known as The Czarnina Kid and did a radio bit called The Czarnina Kid that was a parody of Dragnet.

    He recorded a version of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas that was mostly Polish, using the Polish name for Santa Claus, Gwiazdor. I haven't heard it in years, and last week, I found it posted on the Internet.

    A transcript of the poem is useless since few of us speak Polish, but it sure is entertaining to listen to. You can hear it here: Gwiazdor by Mad Man Michaels.

    (The flip side of his record was a novelty Christmas novelty song entitled Snack for Santa. The song is also laced with Polish words and references to Polish culture. Click on the title to hear it.)

    There are plenty more parodies of Clement C. Moore's delightful story. Click on the titles to see the entire parody. We'll start with the Yiddish version...

    The Night Before Chanukah

    'Twas the night before Chanukah, boichiks and maidels
    Not a sound could be heard, not even the dreidels
    The menorah was set by the chimney alight
    In the kitchen, the Bubbie was hopping a bite
    Salami, Pastrami, a glaisele tay
    And zoyere pickles mit bagels-- Oy vay!

    The Dieter's 'Twas the Night Before Christmasstarts out...

    ‘Twas the night before Christmas and all round my hips
    Were Fannie May candies that sneaked past my lips.
    Fudge brownies were stored in the freezer with care
    In hopes that my thighs would forget they were there.

    'Twas A Florida Christmas is cute, although the author doesn't understand proper placement of an apostrophe to represent missing letters.

    T'was the night before Christmas and all through the town,
    no noses were frozen, no snow fluttered down,
    no children in flannels were tucked into bed,
    they all wore shorty pajamas instead.

    A NASCAR CHRISTMAS…

    Twas the Race before Christmas and all through the track
    Each driver was ready to make his attack.
    The tires had been stacked by the pit crew with care
    With hopes none of them would run out of air.
    The drivers were belted all snug in their seats
    Where visions of checkered flags looked mighty sweet.

    A Spiro Agnew 'Twas The Night Before Christmas

    'Twas the nocturnal segment of the diurnal period preceding the
    annual Yuletide celebration, and throughout our place of residence,
    kinetic activity was not in evidence among the possessors of this
    potential, including that species of domestic rodent known as Mus
    musculus. Hosiery was meticulously suspended from the forward edge of the
    wood burning caloric apparatus, pursuant to our anticipatory pleasure
    regarding an imminent visitation from an eccentric philanthropist among
    whose folkloric appellations is the honorific title of St. Nicholas.


    The Night before Christmas for Moms

    It was the night before Christmas, when all thru the abode
    Only one creature was stirring, and she was cleaning the commode.
    The children were finally sleeping, all snug in their beds,
    While visions of Nintendo 64 and Barbie, flipped through their heads.

    ...and my favorite, A Visit from Saint Nicholas IN THE ERNEST HEMINGWAY MANNER that was written by James Thurber and published in The New Yorker magazine on December 24, 1927. (It is now in the public domain.) If you like the first few lines, click on the title to see the rest of the parody.

    It was the night before Christmas. The house was very quiet. No creatures were stirring in the house. There weren't even any mice stirring. The stockings had been hung carefully by the chimney. The children hoped that Saint Nicholas would come and fill them.

    The children were in their beds. Their beds were in the room next to ours. Mamma and I were in our beds. Mamma wore a kerchief. I had my cap on. I could hear the children moving. We didn't move. We wanted the children to think we were asleep.

    "Father," the children said.

    There was no answer. He's there, all right, they thought.

    "Father," they said, and banged on their beds.

    "What do you want?" I asked.

    "We have visions of sugarplums," the children said.

    "Go to sleep," said mamma.

    "We can't sleep," said the children. They stopped talking, but I could hear them moving. They made sounds.

    "Can you sleep?" asked the children.

    "No," I said.

    "You ought to sleep."

    "I know. I ought to sleep."

    "Can we have some sugarplums?"

    "You can't have any sugarplums," said mamma.

    "We just asked you."

    There was a long silence. I could hear the children moving again.

    "Is Saint Nicholas asleep?" asked the children.

    "No," mamma said. "Be quiet."

    "What the hell would he be asleep tonight for?" I asked.

    "He might be," the children said.

    "He isn't," I said.

    "Let's try to sleep," said mamma.

    The house became quiet once more. I could hear the rustling noises the children made when they moved in their beds.

    Out on the lawn a clatter arose. I got out of bed and went to the window. I opened the shutters; then I threw up the sash. The moon shone on the snow. The moon gave the lustre of mid-day to objects in the snow. There was a miniature sleigh in the snow, and eight tiny reindeer. A little man was driving them. He was lively and quick. He whistled and shouted at the reindeer and called them by their names. Their names were Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donder, and Blitzen...

    There are plenty more out there, if you look hard enough, or just wait patiently and another one will hit your inbox.

    ENJOY!

  2. #2
    CS Leader raebates's Avatar
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    I'm honored to have inspired you, KG. This thread is great.

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    The_Kitchen_Guy's Avatar
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    TY - I love the Ernest Hemingway parodies...like why did the chicken cross the road? To die. Alone. In the rain.

    The Gwiazdor parody has lost some of its meaning (along with Snack for Santa) as the first and second generation Poles have given way to third and fourth generation families that are far more Americanized. But they're still cute to listen to!

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    Intrepid_Chef's Avatar
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    I used to hate Hemmingway. He was boring.

    And then I go and become a journalist. So much for creativity. It is gone.

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    The_Kitchen_Guy's Avatar
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    One "m".

    I like him. I like his style. I am glad I do not write like him. Staccato phrases. Pauses. If I did, I would also use a shotgun. Ask not for whom the shotgun blasts. It blasts for me. Boom.

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    susanr613's Avatar
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    The Hanukah one is excellent! Thanks for sharing!

  7. #7
    The_Kitchen_Guy's Avatar
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    YW. I thought of you when I found that.

  8. #8
    baychef's Avatar
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    'Twas the night before Christmas at Rock-Away Rest,
    and all of us seniors were looking our best.
    Our glasses, how sparkly, our wrinkles, how merry;
    Our punchbowl held prune juice plus three drops of sherry.

    A bedsock was taped to each walker, in hope
    That Santa would bring us soft candy and soap.
    We surely were lucky to be there with friends,
    Secure in this residence and in our Depends.

    Our grandkids had sent us some Christmasy crafts,
    Like angels in snowsuits and penguins on rafts.
    The dental assistant had borrowed our teeth,
    And from them she'd crafted a holiday wreath.

    The bed pans, so shiny, all stood in a row,
    Reflecting our candle's magnificent glow.
    Our supper so festive -- the joy wouldn't stop --
    Was creamy warm oatmeal with sprinkles on top.

    Our salad was Jell-O, so jiggly and great,
    Then puree of fruitcake was spooned on each plate.
    The social director then had us play games,
    Like "Where Are You Living?" and "What Are Your Names?"

    Old Grandfather Looper was feeling his oats,
    Proclaiming that reindeer were nothing but goats.
    Our resident wand'rer was tied to her chair,
    In hopes that at bedtime she still would be there.

    Security lights on the new fallen snow
    Made outdoors seem noon to the old folks below.
    Then out on the porch there arose quite a clatter
    (But we are so deaf that it just didn't matter).

    A strange little fellow flew in through the door,
    Then tripped on the sill and fell flat on the floor.
    'Twas just our director, all togged out in red.
    He jiggled and chuckled and patted each head.

    We knew from the way that he strutted and jived
    Our social- security checks had arrived.
    We sang -- how we sang -- in our monotone croak,
    Till the clock tinkled out its soft eight-p.m.. stroke.

    And soon we were snuggling deep in our beds.
    While nurses distributed nocturnal meds.
    And so ends our Christmas at Rock-Away Rest.
    'fore long you'll be with us, We wish you the best!

    Author Unknown

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    The_Kitchen_Guy's Avatar
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    Well, that's us in a few years.

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    babywings76's Avatar
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    My father in law is such a Scrooge when it comes to Christmas. But he gets a kick out of finding different versions of Twas the Night Before Christmas. It's his tradition on Christmas Eve to read one of them to all the grandkids. His favorite is the Cajun one. I'll have to e-mail him and see if he can copy the text to me. We hardly ever are with them for Christmas (they are on the other side of the country and we'd rather go out and see them for a whole week during the summer).

  11. #11
    baychef's Avatar
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    Twas the night of Thanksgiving and out of the house
    Tiger Woods came a flyin', chased by his spouse.
    She wielded a nine iron and wasn't too merry,
    Cause a bimbo's phone number was in his Blackberry.
    He'd been cheatin' on Elin, and the story progressed.
    Woman after woman stepped up and confessed.
    He'd been cheatin' with Holly, and Jaimee, and Cori,
    With Joselyn, and Kalika. the world had the story.
    From the top of the Tour to the basement of blues,
    Tiger's sad sordid tale was all over the news.
    With hostesses, waitresses, he had lots of sex,
    When not in their pants, he was sendin' them texts.
    Despite all his cryin' and beggin' and pleadin',
    Tiger's wife went investin' -- a new home in Sweden.
    And I heard her exclaim from her white Escalade,
    "If you're gettin' laid then I'm gettin' paid."
    She's not pouting, in fact, she is of jolly good cheer,
    Her prenup made Christmas come early this year!

  12. #12
    baychef's Avatar
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    Quote Quote by The_Kitchen_Guy View Post
    Well, that's us in a few years.
    I worked as a diet technician in nursing homes for 10 years. One of the most heart warming career. I still miss the residents after 21 years (well, except the crabby ones, but even they made me smile).
    This poem is reality, unfortunately!

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