Day 22: Who Needs That Much Poultry?

These aren't the gifts you're looking for...move along.

Before I dive into my scheduled post, I want to wish my Mom a Happy 75th Birthday today.  I miss you more than anything right now and I know you will still be watching us on Christmas Day.  I love you.

OK so now that we got that out of the way and I dragged you down for a second time in less than a week, I want to tell you about a Twitter conversation I had a few days ago that prompted this post.  James from Dads Round Table threw this little tidbit out into Twitterland:

And that triggered my thought process on Day 22 of the 25 Day Project.  The Twelve Days of Christmas.  Now there are dozens of variations on this song from Redneck to Scout Camp, but I'm talking about the original, the unaltered, the "what true love thought these were going to be good Christmas gifts anyway?" song.

My true love gave to me:  

Twelve drummers drumming  

Eleven pipers piping  

Ten lords a-leaping  

Nine ladies dancing  

Eight maids a-milking  

Seven swans a-swimming  

Six geese a-laying  

Five golden rings  

Four calling birds  

Three french hens  

Two turtle doves  

And a partridge in a pear tree.

So because I suck at math, I will let Morgan @captmorganmomma break it down for you:

And Bartholomew thought he was being smart with the advent calendar, that's a lot of presents, but let's dive a little more into this.

Twenty three birds?  Even the food bank doesn't need that much poultry.  Imagine the bird shit everywhere!  Imagine the breast enlargements!  A partridge is the Micro Machine of the chicken world, turtle doves are gamey and what the hell are calling birds anyway?  The only useful fowl in this song would be the hens and geese (you can't hunt swans, they're protected for some reason).  So, the poultry list has been narrowed down to nine and unless your last name is McDonald and your refer to yourself as old, that's a whole shitload of birds.

Seventeen girls.  OK, I can see that...wait, what am I saying?  It sounds like that whole 72 virgins thing that some terrorists subscribe to.  Whether your true love is male or female, this is a pretty weird gift.  There are ways to look at both the ladies dancing and the maids a-milking.

First the ladies dancing, what kind of dance?  Are we talking ballet, jazz or swinging from a pole?  Personally I like the whole swinging from a pole thing but some fruitcakes might like ballet.  I need more information before I would consider this a good gift or not.  Second, the maids a-milking.  ***DISCLAIMER*** You are about to dive into the gutter with me  ***END DISCLAIMER***  If the maids are milking cows, then you have a whole different problem going on that would require you to build a barn and nowhere in the song do they mention xx cows a-waiting to be milked.  So that would leave one to believe that the eight maids are involved in some sort of fetish porn...just saying. 

Now comes the sausage fest.  Thirty three men.  Again, whether your true love is male or female, that's fucked up right there.

This sounds like some sort of Cirque du Soleil.  What it boils down to is this song is completely off the mark nowadays.  Who wants that much mess and that much noise?  I think Morgan got it right, sell the gold and buy booze, you're going to need it.

Here, if anyone is wondering what to get me for Christmas, please watch this video...

I also need to apologize to everyone, I wrote about my Mom and a fetish porn in the same post.  I think I might be going to hell on that one.

Dude, this elf is messed up, spelunking for cat turds???  Although he did tell me he thought the were Tootsie Rolls.