While other blogs out there hate you because they’re all Christian pigs that stop blogging for Christmas time, we here at PJD won’t be doing that because we’re stuck at work today during Snow-mageddon with nothing to do, so we’ll pre-write some material for you. HURRAY CAPITALISM! We’re actually just pulling for more site hits. Anyway, in the spirit of the Holiday that some of you may or may not celebrate, Purple Jesus himself has been kind enough to stop by and share with you the REAL Night Before Christmas story. So grab your hot cocoa, finish shoveling off the 18 inches of snow in your driveway (you own a house?) that fell in the last hour, and cuddle up with a loved one who also has a sick sense of humor as Purple Jesus reads you into a peaceful slumber … “Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Winter Park No one was smoking, not even Percy Harvs. The jock straps were hung by the chimney then fanned, In hopes that Coach Childress soon would be canned. The rookies were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of touchdowns danced in their heads. And ‘Toine in his ‘kerchief, and Favre with his schism, Had just settled down for “Christmas Vacation”. When out on the practice field there arose such a clatter, Favre sprang from the bean bag to see what was the matter. Away to the window he flew like a pepaw, Tore open the shutters and threw up at what he saw. The moon on the breast of a virgin high schooler Gave a lustre to as he was sho’ doing her. When, what to Favre’s wondering eyes should appear, But a ginormous running back, and for some reason a reindeer. With a little old football, Favre knew he was there to meet us, And Favre knew in a moment it must be Purple Jesus. More rapid than Chris Johnson his touchdowns they came, And he ban hammered, and LEEEROYed, and called out his banes! “Now Packers! Now, Bears! Now, Saints and Lions! On, Giants! On, Bengals! And Eagles? You’re dyin’! To the top of divisions! To Super Bowl winners! Now dash away! You other teams, you’re all just sinners!” As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When the Saints hit the road, and played at N Y. So up to the end-zone Purple Jesus flew, With the sleigh full of awards, and the OPY too. And then, in a twinkling, Favre heard like a song, The thudding and crashing of Shiancoe’s huge dong. As he drew in his head, and was turning about, Purple Jesus scored again in a rout. He was dressed all in purple, from his head to his tush, And his eye was a twinkle with the hoes he had smushed. The bundle of awards he had flung on his back, Made him looked like a hobo, guarding his pack. His eyes-how they shone! his speed, how scary! His strength was like a bear’s, but his chest was not hairy! His massive biceps were as hard as an ice ball, And he could fell opponents despite his coach’s call, The stump of a pen he held tight in his teeth, As he signed a football which looked quite neat. He had a dark face and an eight pack for a belly, That was so sharp when you touched it, cut meat like a deli! He was ripped and amped, all night and all day, And Favre sighed when he saw him, as he moved out the way, A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, Soon he was off and the defense was dead. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And filled up all the box scores, and called Common Man a jerk. And laying his finger aside of his nose, And giving a nod, on to Canton he rode! He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a holler, And away they all flew to Miami on Zygi’s dollar. But Favre heard him exclaim, ‘ere he ran out of sight, “Merry Christmas to all, and hey Favre? You’re alright!”
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