Conference tallis::celt

        
    	A Final Visit From Saint Nicholas   

    'Twas the night before Christmas and one thing was clear--  
    that old Yuletide spirit no longer was here 
    inflation was rising; the crime rate was tripling;  
    the fuel bills were up, and our mortgage was crippling; 

    I opened a beer as I watched TV,
    where Donny sang "O Holy Night" to Marie;   
    the kids were in bed, getting sleep like they should;   
    or else they were stoned, which was almost as good. 

    While Ma with her ball-point was making a fuss  
    'bout folks we'd send cards to who'd sent none to us;   
    "Those ingrates," she thundered, and pounded her fist;  
    "Next year you can bet they'll be crossed off our list!"

    When out in the yard came a deafening blare;
    'twas our burgler alarm, and I hollered, "Who's there?" 
    I turned on the searchlight, which lit up the night,
    and, armed with my handgun, beheld a strange sight. 

    Some red-suited clown with a white beard immense
    was caught in our eight foot electrified fence; 
    he called out, "I'm Santa!  I bring you no malice!" 
    Said I, "if you're Santa, I'm Telly Savalas!"   

    But, lo, as his pressence grew clear to me, 
    I saw in the glare that it just might be he!
    I called off our doberman clawing his sleigh
    and, frisking him twice, said, "I think he's ok."   

    I led him inside where he slumped in a chair,   
    and he poured out the following tale of dispair;
    "On Christmas eves past I was jolly and chuckling,  
    but now 'neath the pressures, I fear I am buckling."

    "You'll note I've arrived with no reindeer this year,   
    and without them, my sleigh is much harder to steer;
    although I would like to continue to use them,  
    the wildlife officials believe I abuse them."   

    "To add to my problem, Ralph Nader dropped by   
    and told me my sleigh was unsafe in the sky;
    I now must wear seatbelts, despite my objections,   
    and bring in the sleigh twice a year for inspections."  

    "Last April my workers came forth with demands, 
    and I soon had a general strike on my hands;
    I couldn't afford to pay unionized elves,   
    so the missus and I did the work ourselves."

    "And then, later on, came additional trouble--  
    an avalanche left my fine workshop in rubble;   
    my Allstate insurance was worthless, because
    they had shrewdly slipped in a 'no avalanche' clause."  

    "And after that came an I.R.S audit;
    the government claimed I was out to defraud it; 
    they finally nailed me for 65 grand,
    which I paid through the sale of my house and my land." 

    "And yet I persist, though it gives me a scare  
    flying blind through the blanket of smog in the air;
    not to mention the hunters who fill me with dread,  
    taking shots at my sleigh as I pass overhead."  

    "My torn-up red suit, and these bruises and swellings,  
    I got fighting muggers in multiple dwellings.   
    And if you should ask  why I'm glowing tonight, 
    it's from flying too close to a nuclear site."  

    He rose from his chair and he heaved a great sigh,  
    and I couldn't help notice a tear in his eye;   
    "I've tried," he declared, "to reverse each defeat, 
    but I fear that today I've become obsolete."

    He slumped out the door and returned to his sleigh, 
    and these last words he spoke as he went on his way;
    "no longer can I do the job that's required;
    if anyone asks, just say, 'Santa's retired!'".  

    Re .0
    
    Though vaguely intresting as an exercise in verbal gymnastics, the
    self-indulgent verbosity inevitably proved to be self-defeating,
    displaying an immature insecurity reminiscent of fanatic "BANNER" 
    wavers of questionable heritage. The result, both exhausting and 
    futile.
    
    
                 Yours in the best Christmas spirit,
              (and still looking for a decent "rapport").
              
                             Murphy.
                             

    
    
    
    	Murphy : If you just said what I think you said, you'll never
    	         get your DeDannan tape back now .... :=)
    
    
    
    
    	keVin
    
    

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                              Burns Nicht 1989                      
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    The Worcester Kiltie Pipe Band is holding its tenth annual Burns
    Night!  This is an evening not to missed and includes the following:
    
    The Pipes and Drums of the Worcester Kiltie Band
    The Boston Scottish Fiddle Club
    Concert by Valerie Dunbar - Direct from Scotland
    Dancing to Tom Toole and his Band
    Cocktail Hour: 5:00 p.m. to 6:00 p.m.
    Steamship Roast Beef Dinner served promptly at 6:00 p.m.

    Saturday January 28, 1989
    Mechanics Hall 
    321 Main Street
    Worcester, Massachusetts
    
    Tickets are 28.00 per person.  This evening has sold out (680 people)
    in all previous years and is expected to do so again this year!
    
    To order tickets make checks payable to "Worcester Kiltie Band"
    and send them and a stamped, self-addressed envelope to:

        Martin C. Beaton
        201 Edgebrook Drive
        Boylston, MA 01505
    
    Tickets will be mailed upon receipt.  This is on a first come first
    served basis - don't be disappointed.
    
                                                                    

    
    
    
    	And to think he actually tricked me into helping him post .4
    
    
    
    	Maybe it's just a case of jealousy ..... :=)
    
    
    
    
    keVin
    

    But maybe it's not......
    

    
    Merry Chistmas to all
    
    Dick

    Merry Christmas to my friend, enemies, future enemies and have a
    Happy New Year.
    
    Ren� (El Gringo)