Christmahannukwanzadan Edition

Seasoned Greetings, Loyal Readership!

As usual, our special holiday gift to you is a president-free noozletter. Otherwise, we’d have to try to figure out why Democrats, safe and strong in their castle, and outnumbering the enemy, consistently lie down and curl up like the Italian army when the word, “Republicans” is mentioned.

Perhaps you weren’t around 2,000 years ago for the miracle birth in the manger. No sweat! Amid historic deficits that threaten to crush the country, Congress is performing its own miracle—it’s providing unemployment benefits by extending tax cuts! Who knew you could actually fund debt with, well, debt? We know! We don’t get it, either! Must have something to do with the mystery and magic of the season. Loaves and fishes? Walking on water? Not bad tricks, Son of Man, but that’s nothing compared with Mom and Dad Congress getting more funds from the Secret Inexhaustible Supply of Magic Money so they can keep buying us Christmas presents!

Happy Holidays!

The Editirs

2010 Commemorative Christmas Plates Are In!

Just in time for the holidays, your BNITL is pleased to make available to you the Official BNITL 2010 Christmas Plate. Our own staff artiste, Clyde Monet, has once again teamed up with the Franklin Mint, the Lennox Collection, the Bradford Exchange, renowned cat artist Nancy Matthews and Thomas Kincaid, Painter of Light, to bring you some wonderful group art, and this is your one-time-only chance to get this sure-to-become-a-classic. Entitled, “Tea Party Elf”, this delightful plate, suitable for holding up to one sizable grape, features an elf for these times. TP the Elf comes dressed in his own Revolutionary War garb, with an oversized belly, ready to take on that pesky ol’ socialist, Santa, who plans to give away things for free! Cutely misreading the Constitution, TP is ready to bring back the original meaning of Christmas, which involved Santa coming down the chimney of the manger and leaving the baby Caucasian Jesus toys under the fir tree, replacing the ones stolen by the Grinch with cooler ones he got just after midnight on Black Friday, and then, with a wink and a smile, slipping past a melted Frosty (who the good Baby Lord Jesus is just about to transform back into a snowman for his first miracle) and then taking off in his sleigh moments before the arrival of the three kings, who were led to Jesus by the bright Christmas light display on the manger.

This limited-edition plate series is sure to increase in value many thousands of times upon purchase. If sold in stores, this instant-classic holiday plate would likely retail for over $6,000. But it’s yours for just $29.95. Order today!

FROSTY SPEAKS

Editirs’ note: You people are sick. We, your editirs, make one—ONE—mistake in all the years we’ve been publishing this august noozletter, and it haunts us each year at this time: Six years ago, we invited an out-of-work Frosty to write what we expected to be a treacly and vaguely Christian take on the holiday, and he turned out to be a crude, bitter malcontent fond of expletives. And you keep demanding his return. Because of you, we recently learned that Frosty is officially on the comeback trail, having been invited to participate on “Dancing With the Stars” as well as to sing his theme song for “American Idol.” The only thing that might prevent these national disasters is the fact that Frosty loathes everyone. So, thank you ALL for your part in coarsening American culture just a bit more. We, as members of the Old Media in these recessionary times, cannot afford to turn our backs on the vox populi, even when it is the potty-mouth vox populi. But, we can add our own wishes for the season before we let Frosty out of his cage once again:

So, Little Drummer Boy, drum on; perhaps your timpanic beat can drown out the din of Frosty’s bombastic ravings. Rudolph, don’t stop at the Island of Misfit Toys just yet; let them live, like Madagascaran megaflora, in splendid isolation just a bit longer. And, good citizens of Whoville, join with us as we raise our voices proudly and sing, “Fah who for-aze! Fah who for-aze! Dah who dor-aze! Dah who dor-aze! Welcome Christmas, Welcome Christmas, Come this way!”

Somehow, together, we’ll keep Christmas in our hearts each day. With that, you barbarians, here’s Frosty:

“Yo, s’up? You all back to get yelled at again? Yeah, I see I’ve been doing a whole lot of good these last six years, you dumb—ss crackers. How was Black Friday, anyway? Get everything you needed? Thank God because, sh-t, it’s not like you can buy a flat-screen TV every day, right, fat a--? Put some extra miles on the SUV looking to save eight cents at the next store? Question: DID YOU NOT TAKE MATH IN SCHOOL? Do you have any concept that you suck? Did you make sure to pick up some “green” items to make yourself feel better about your planet-wasting trip? I hope you grabbed yourself up some green toilet paper, as well, for when you sh—your mall-loving diapers when global warming really hits the fan. Yeah, it’s damn funny now, huh? “Hee, hee, I like warmer winters. Hee, hee, maybe the government will do something about it. Hee, hee, I only drove a couple miles.” But that’s because you ain’t a snowman. Your time’s coming, homes, and my puddly, wet a—is going to be having a laugh-jam.

--And, yo, holiday travelers? When’s the last time you flew a plane where the flight attendant was telling everybody, “Oh, my freaking God, there’s so much room in all these empty overhead bins that we might not have enough weight to take off!” Maybe you noticed that people can actually CHECK BAGS. Maybe you’ve noticed that your bag is f---ng huge and you can’t even lift it. And, seriously, what is with the bewildered look when you can’t fit your megaton suitcase into the bin? And, jumping onto the plane before your section is called so you can take somebody else’s overhead bin? Weak like a dead baby seal. Here’s an idea: READ THE LUGGAGE RESTRICTION SIGN. You know, the one RIGHT BESIDE THE GATE ON EVERY FLIGHT YOU’LL EVER TAKE?! Because I’d really, really LIKE TO GET TO MY F---ING DESTINATION!

Look, I got way more than you people can handle, but I have way more important things to do than waste my frosty breath on you cretins. F-Man out.

A special holiday message from our sponsor, the Associated Social Media Companies of America, who’ve generously underwritten this entire issue of the BNITL.

You hear cancer stories and you probably think you’ll die young. Wrong. Americans live an average of 78.4 years. That’s a lot of time to fill up! In colonial America, 40 years was old, and there was all kinds of stuff to do to fill up your time, like churning butter. But, now Americans are wondering, how on earth do I spend all that time? We’re here for you. We’re social media, and we’ll help you never have to think about stuff like the meaning of your existence, your interrelationships with other human beings, and sentences over one line long. This Christmas, give your loved ones the gift of time-chewing electronic interfaces. If they have ‘em already, invite them to play games on Facebook! Text friends and loved ones—incessantly if you have to! Sign ‘em up for Foursquare because, well, who WOULDN’T want to know where you are this very moment? Use Linked In to spam your business contacts with the vital news that you just attended a seminar on social media! Send a text that says it all: “I lv u; mry xmas!”

Otherwise, they’ll be tempted to sit all lonely and quiet with a cup of tea watching the snow fall. So lonely. So very lonely.

The Not Completely Psycho Edition

EDITIRS’ NOTE:

Greetings, Loyal Readership!

Longtime readers of your BNITL know our unofficial slogan: “We Proudly Hate Everybody!” And with so much stupidity out there, your BNITL will never run out of stuff to write about. It’s like having an unlimited number of freelancers sending an infinite number of stories to us each day. Such a wealth of riches! Where does one start? The Tea Party all by itself could keep us going until the twenty-third century. “Take our country back!” they shout. “From whom, exactly?” we ask. The people you voted into office? TP-ers, you might want to think that one through. Oh, and er, the whole point of the American Revolution (you know, the first one with mostly young skinny guys shooting each other, versus this one with old fat guys dressing in dollar-store Revolutionary War stuff and shooting off their mouths) was that people didn’t have an equal right to vote! Soooooo … is the point now to revolt against … the vote?

OK, well, let’s not get started. We’ll try to be briefer with this next one. Two words: Mark Souder. Eight-term congressman from Indiana. Evangelical Christian. Staunch anti-abortionist and granddad. (Need we add, proud Republican? Didn’t think so). The best part? Big believer in abstinence. Though, apparently only for other people. Turns out Grandpa might’ve benefited from a little abstinence coaching himself, because he couldn’t keep from fooling around on grandma. Seriously, if we didn’t have Republicans for comic relief, who would we have? Oh, that’s right. Tea Partiers.

Because seriously, President GW Obama’s not helping much. In his ongoing serious-as-a heart-attack effort to cater to the 25% of the country that’s completely lost its mind but yells louder than the remaining 75%, he’s doing basically everything President Bush did and STILL they hate him. It’s kind of like that friend you had who kept making a darn fool out of himself as he chased the object of his romantic affections, suffering one humiliation after another. Our advice for the lovelorn White House occupant: Dude, that girl’s not going to go out with you. So, lower the boom box, put away the trench coat, and give it up. On the other hand, the rest of the country may not be pretty, but they’re loyal, steadfast and most of all … NOT COMPLETELY PSYCHO!

In closing, not to go all English teacher on you and all, but your BNITL asks: How can oil “spill” from the bottom of the seafloor?

Cheers—

The Editirs

BNITL Poll: Americans Overwhelmingly Think BP Responsible for Oil Disaster

In a recent poll, 99.99% of Americans pointed at BP as the party responsible for destroying the Gulf of Mexico and what was left of New Orleans. The poll, conducted by staff scientist Albert Feckler of the University of Trout in Trout Hill, MN (“Troutam ad Gloriam”), Americans thought it was, “shameful” (94%), “criminal” (78%) and “disgraceful” (95%).

Joel Warner leaned out of his SUV to shake his fist at a BP gas station while he sat in rush hour traffic. “I’m never buying my snacks there again,” Warner vowed.

Marina Spreehorn, clutching a disposable coffee cup, said, “I’m seriously thinking of donating to Greenpeace.” She applauded Greenpeace’s latest publicity effort, which involved traveling to England (likely by wind power) and climbing BP corporate headquarters in England (presumably using hemp ropes created with solar electricity) to unveil a banner (probably hand-sewn from the wool of free-range sheep) that featured an image of oil dripping from the BP logo (certainly painted with non-toxic dyes) and that (most certainly) was entirely recyclable or at least compostable.

The revulsion crossed all age groups. Clutching her iPod and cell phone, fourteen year old Mary Boltswold said, “I’ve been texting friends constantly about this.”

At a local marina, Chad Brown said, “I read all about it on my new iPad. Happened while we were out water skiing. Damned shame. I mean, my whole family loves water sports, and I can’t imagine going out for a nice ride and seeing all that oil.”

Bart Conner agreed, “I’m a big jet-skier and it would just turn my stomach to have to look at a big puddle of oil in the water.”

Lisa Meeker sported a bumper sticker reading, “BP: Beyond Pitiful” on her Prius. On her way to an anti-big oil rally, Meeker said, “It’s a long drive, but it’s worth it to show those oil people what we really think about them!”

In the poll, Americans overwhelmingly agreed that “something must be done” and further, that, “government or somebody” ought to do it. Martha Crimstone paused atop her riding mower and said, “It’s just depressing. I mean, it follows you wherever you go—on the drive to work; on the TV’s at Best Buy and at McDonald’s, on my podcasts. Sometimes I regret getting the extra hi-def in the kitchen. I mean, it’s just not right to see dead birds while you’re eating your Toaster-Insta-Wafflecakes. We must never allow this to happen again,” she said, clicking her electric garage door opener and riding off.

SIDEBAR: New Orleans street corner jazz musician Harold “Gumbo” Jones said, “Sh-t. Man, you know, the Saints won the Superbowl in January and we were the first championship-winning city in memory not to wreck stuff. Damn, we shoulda just torched everything, you know’m sayin’?

Republican Party Triumphs Latest Sex Scandals

Party Chairman Claims GOP, “On a Roll”

Immediately on the heels of Indiana Congressman Mark Souder’s resignation for marital infidelity with a staff member, Republican National Committee Chairman Michael Steele called a press conference to boast of what he called, “Really, an incredible winning streak” for the GOP.

“Think about it,” said Steele. Just two years ago, things were looking pretty bad with yet another Republican, this time Larry Craig, being busted for homosexual activities in a public restroom. How things change. Now, with Souder’s little tete-a-tete, I’m counting at least five straight hetero scandals in a row! Whoo!”

Steel enumerated these for reporters. “Without even thinking about it, I can name, like, a ton of ‘em.” He then mentioned Mark Sanford, married governor of South Carolina who claimed he was hiking the AT when he was actually having an Argentinian sleepover with his mistress; Chip Pickering (R-MS) who reunited with a high school flame, which is such a great story but for the fact that he’s already married; Nevada Senator John Ensign, who really loved his staffers, one of them in a physical sense who was already married to another staffer; the Los Angeles S&M club episode, during which several high-ranking Republicans used RNC money to pay for their trip to the leathery side; and now representative Souder. “Give me a few minutes and I bet I could come up with a dozen more,” Steele added, with a wink. “And that’s just the ones we know about!”

Steele continued, “You think when the press learned about the strip club that was a LEAK?” My god, no,” Steele said, breaking into laughter and wiping away a tear. “This is awesome. I mean, this is so manly it’s almost frat-boy, I mean, bachelor party, I mean, “HOO-AH! You know what I mean?” Steele then grunted several times and lurched about the podium pumping his fists in the air and high-fiving reporters.

“Seriously, when’s the last time you had a Republican dressing in lady’s clothes? It’s gotta be at least a year. Nobody can call us the GOP—that is, Gay Old Party—any more!”

When questioned about the comparative virility of Republicans and Democrats, Steele added, “Sure, John Edwards fathered a shorty, but just give me some time. There must be some little Republican bastards running around somewhere.”

In light of the recent events, Steele said, the Republican National Committee is considering a new slogan, “Republicans. Hmm-Yeah!”