The Night Before Startup
'Twas the night before startup
and all through the house
not a program was working,
there clicked not a mouse
The users were nestled all snug in their beds
with visions of systems alive in their heads.
The programmers slumped round their screens in despair
and felt that a miracle now would be fair.
Then from the back office there rose such a chatter
I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter
and there to my marveling eyes did appear
a wonder programmer with a six pack of beer.
His resume glowed with experience so rare
he turned out great code with that bit-pusher's flair.
He spoke not a word but went straight to his work,
turning specs into code like a sitcom berserk.
A wink of his eye and a nod of his head
soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
More smoothly than salesmen his programs they come;
he whistled and shouted and called them by name.
On update, on add, on inquire and delete,
on batch jobs, on closing on functions complete.
His eyes all glazed over, hands nimble and lean,
from long days and nights spent in front of a screen.
He tapped and he hammered, he nothing did shirk,
turning specs into code; then he turned with a smirk,
and laying his finger upon Enter key,
the system came up and worked perfectly.
The updates updated, the deletes all deleted,
the inquiries inquired and the closing completed.
He tested each whistle, he tested each bell,
and with nary an append it all had gone well.
The system was finished, the tests were concluded,
the client’s last changes were even included.
Then the user explained in apocalypt font,
"It’s just what I asked for, but not what I want."
Author Unknown
Submitted by:
Barbara Bessent
Santa Claus Is Not In Iraq
No white Christmas, but it will be the coldest time of the year
at about 30 degrees.
No last minute run to Wal-Mart on Christmas Eve,
but a long line for the phones on Christmas morning
to get a hold of loved ones.
Grandma won't make Christmas Dinner
but it will be better food than what we will eat the
rest of the week.
We will not be celebrating with relatives we love,
but will be celebrating with our friends and comrades
from the past 7 months.
We will joke among ourselves
"I wonder if Santa's Insurance will let him land here?"
This is what Christmas day will be like for us in Iraq.
On Christmas day we will call home, eat, do laundry,
and spend some extra time in bed.
In fact, without TV, radio, and retail stores,
the Christmas rush won't hit us.
We are continuing with our jobs,
driving around Central Iraq building
whatever the military needs,
we are not going through stores,
we are everywhere you turn,
you are reminded of your roll as Santa Claus.
We are listening to the radio,
but it is the voice of the driver behind us
and not another Christmas song playing
for the hundredth time.
In fact the only reminder of Christmas
is the cards and packages from home,
that were sent weeks in advance to get here on time.
In Iraq, you learn Christmas is not about gifts,
as the retail world would like all you soon to be
Santa Claus to believe. It is not about holiday movies
that make you feel good.
Christmas to us, has become much more.
Everyday, we run down the fine line of life and death.
Here we are reminded daily that in the world
there is not always a 'happy ending'
like on Christmas TV specials.
But Christmas is about pausing to remember
that we do have a family at home,
and we do have a reason for what we do.
But Christmas is about something bigger than all of us,
it is even bigger than this war we fight.
Christmas is about the birth of the Prince of Peace.
We are only about the distance of Kansas City to New York
from a small stable where Christmas began.
We daily put our lives in the hands of the one
born that night and Christmas is the day
we will stop and remember that glorious event.
Santa Claus may not be here with his "elf"
Wal-Mart, but the Prince of Peace is,
and that is what you remember when you celebrate
Christmas in Iraq.
So as you celebrate Christmas in the United States
this year listen to the carols you sing for the
true meaning of Christmas.
It's there, we have heard it. But we don't have the
noise of the Santa Claus that never stops singing,
spend, spend, spend. But we do have a
hymnal with "Joy to the World".
Merry Christmas from Spc. Brad Isaac and Sgt. Lucas Green,
remember to pray for us and all the soldiers over here.
For prayer is what will bring us home for next Christmas.
The Sands of Christmas
by Michael Marks
© December 2003
I had no Christmas spirit when I breathed a weary sigh,
and looked across the table where the bills were piled too high.
The laundry wasn’t finished and the car I had to fix,
My stocks were down another point, the Dolphins lost by six.
And so with only minutes till my son got home from school
I gave up on the drudgery and grabbed a wooden stool.
The burdens that I carried were about all I could take,
and so I flipped the TV on to catch a little break.
I came upon a desert scene in shades of tan and rust,
No snowflakes hung upon the wind, just clouds of swirling dust.
And where the reindeer should have stood before a laden sleigh,
eight hummers ran a column right behind an M1A.
A group of boys walked past the tank, not one was past his teens,
Their eyes were hard as polished flint, their faces drawn and lean.
They walked the street in armor with their rifles shouldered tight,
their dearest wish for Christmas, just to have a silent night.
Other soldiers gathered, hunkered down against the wind,
To share a scrap of mail and dreams of going home again.
There wasn’t much at all to put their lonely hearts at ease,
They had no Christmas turkey, just a pack of MREs.
They didn't have a garland or a stocking I could see,
They didn't need an ornament-- they lacked a Christmas Tree.
They didn’t have a present even though it was tradition,
the only boxes I could see were labled "ammunition".
I felt a little tug and found my son now by my side,
He asked me what it was I feared, and why it was I cried.
I swept him up into my arms and held him oh so near
and kissed him on the forehead as I whispered in his ear.
There’s nothing wrong my little son, for safe we sleep tonight,
our heroes stand on foreign land to give us all the right,
to worry on the things in life that mean nothing at all,
instead of wondering if we will be the next to fall.
He looked at me as children do and said its always right,
to thank the ones who help us and perhaps that we should write.
And so we pushed aside the bills and sat to draft a note,
to thank the many far from home, and this is what we wrote,
God bless you all and keep you safe, and speed your way back home.
Remember that we love you so, and that you’re not alone.
The gift you give you share with all, a present every day,
You give the gift of liberty and that we can’t repay.
Reasoned Season
by Roger W Hancock
Seasons come seasons go,
One season should never end.
Excitement lights the face,
As joy springs forth with light.
Remembrance of a Savior's birth
The gift of self he gave.
Thoughts of loved-ones near,
Appropriate gifts for each.
Glittered lights upon a tree,
Ornaments, bulbs for glee.
Baby born a purpose light,
Darkness dies upon his tree.
Strings of light along house eves,
Garland tinsels our gaiety.
Gifts wrapped anticipation,
Family, friends for Turkey feast.
Babe born is Christmas reason,
His last supper, to remember.
Copyright November 1, 2003
Roger W Hancock
www.PoetPatriot.com
(used with author's
permission)
A Military Christmas
by Major Van Harl USAF Ret.
Dad was in the Navy, during Christmas we were seldom back home.
We spent our holidays in different states, sometimes rather alone.
We spent Christmas over seas in a number of foreign lands.
Christmas was never conducted according to a civilian plan.
No going over to Grandma's house, to eat a Christmas meal.
In 20 years we got there twice, that was a major deal.
We would drive a thousand miles, to be there Christmas Eve.
Days later it was time to go, dad was out of military leave.
We would drive all night to get back, to the Naval base.
This ended yet another, cross-country Christmas race.
Finish our favorite holiday food, crackers with cheese dip,
Dad would drive out to the pier, to sign back-in to the ship.
We all loved going onboard ship for a holiday meal.
My sisters ate all the shrimp that they could peel.
I would talk to the mess-cooks standing in the chow line.
Dependent meals on shipboard were always a magical time.
During my Air Force career I got home for Christmas only a time or two,
But my Air Force spouse made a holiday of white, not of Elvis blue.
Christmas dinner was with our GI friends, who could not get "home,"
Sometimes over twenty, no one was left alone.
G.I. s and sailors are your family when stationed far from home.
In my day no e-mail and in most cases you couldn't even phone.
Christmas cards went early, because of the long homeward flight.
Anyone's holiday mail was a G.I. shared delight.
Cards, pictures and cookies enjoyed with a Marine cohort.
Moments later defending the line; Christmas can be rather short.
War doesn't stop for the troops because of a national holiday.
Even on the 25th someone is earning their combat pay.
I am an old retiree sitting back in my rocking chair.
But my wife is still active duty performing the mission out there.
We are always on the move, from air base to air base,
In my old age, this military stuff, keeps picking up the pace.
We're at a comfortable "state-side" base this winter holiday.
Somewhere a troop is earning, Christmas hazardous-duty pay.
Please take care of "your" sailor, marine or G.I. this holiday season.
To appreciate your troops never needs a reason.
We are at an Air Force base, out west this Christmas year.
No grandparents, no siblings, not even my in-laws are here.
It's another military holiday and we are far from "home."
But I have my wife, my daughter and the dogs--we are not alone.
We choose to be in a military, that on holidays takes us far and wide.
But we serve our nation, maybe even with a little selfish pride.
We are doing something right for this wonderful homeland.
She is a military woman and I am a military man.
Enjoy this holiday season, remember who keeps you safe at home.
Think of the Sailor, Marine or G.I. out there feeling quite alone.
They choose to be there, even on Christmas night.
Support your troops, what they do for this country, is indeed right.
Thanks to veterans who have done military Christmas in the past.
The new troops continue the tradition, to make our freedom last.
Sleep well this Christmas Eve, at home in your warm bed.
To our military, defending the nation, full speed ahead.
Major Van Harl USAF Ret.
20 December 2003
vanharl@aol.com
Thank you:
Col. David Crockett, USAF
Spc. Lauren Osinski, USA (Illinois Guard)
Christmas 2003
by John McCrea
WWII Veteran
Lincoln, Nebraska 2003
Christmas time
Two thousand and three
We still have Santa
And the Christmas Tree
We still are a caring
And loving people
Our prayers still resonate
From under the Steeple
Tommy and Maggie
Were feeling sad
Christmas was coming
They missed their Dad
Daddy is in Iraq
They don't understand
Why Daddy's Christmas
Is in a faraway land
Tommy age five
Maggie just three
Helped their Mother
Trim the Christmas Tree
Christmas Eve
Before climbing into bed
Heads were bowed
Prayers were said
Dear God
We want you to know
We love our Daddy
And miss him so
Please send an Angel
Down from above
Give our Daddy
Our hugs and love
Then they snuggled
Under covers deep
The Sandman arrived
Put them to sleep
Christmas morning
They were excited to see
Brightly wrapped gifts
Under the tree
Then special gifts
From far away
Letters from Daddy
To be opened this day
Daddy told them
How much they were missed
Through their Mother
Each was hugged and kissed
Hugs and kisses
From their Dad
Tommy and Maggie
Were no longer sad
One more verse
To this poem
God bless our Troops
Send them safely home
T'was The Day After Christmas
Twas the day after Christmas, and all through the house,
Every creature was hurtin' even the mouse.
The toys were all broken, their batteries dead;
Santa passed out, with some ice on his head.
Wrapping and ribbons just covered the floor,
While upstairs the family continued to snore.
And I in my T-shirt, new Reeboks and jeans,
I went into the kitchen and started to clean.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the sink to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the curtains, and threw up the sash.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a little white truck, with an oversized mirror.
The driver was smiling, so lively and grand;
The patch on his jacket said "U.S. POSTMAN."
With a handful of bills, he grinned like a fox.
Then quickly he stuffed them into our mailbox.
Bill after bill, after bill, they still came.
Whistling and shouting he called them by name:
"Now Dillard's, now Broadway's, now Penny's and Sears
Here's Robinson's, Levitz's and Target's and Mervyn's.
To the tip or your limit, every store, every mall,
Now chargeaway-chargeaway-chargeaway all!"
He whooped and he whistled as he finished his work.
He filled up the box, and then turned with a jerk.
He sprang to his truck and he drove down the road,
Driving much faster with just half a load.
Then I heard him exclaim with great holiday cheer,
"ENJOY WHAT YOU BOUGHT.......
YOU'LL BE PAYING ALL YEAR!"
~Author Unknown~
Submitted by:
Barbara Bessent
Christmas Light Show
The presents are opened, the stockings askew.
Two pounds of turkey are inside of you.
Your eyelids are drooping. The sun's going down.
Christmas is over. But wait... what's that sound?
The neighbors. They're shouting, "Look to the west!"
Outside you dash, along with the rest.
The sky is as pink as Santa Claus' nose.
And right in the middle--two UFOs!
Could it be an invasion? Some creatures from space?
Now you're awake. Your heart starts to race.
Run back to the house. Pick up the phone.
9-1-1, 9-1-1! "They're coming," you moan.
The voice on the line says, "Sir, just relax."
"There's nothing to fear. Let me give you the facts."
"Those spaceships you see aren't spaceships, no, no."
"Astronomers say it's a harmless light show."
"One's a planet called Venus, as bright as can be."
"The other's the moon. Now do you see?"
So go tell your neighbors: everything is alright."
"Merry Christmas to all. And to all a good night."
(Courtesy of NASA)
'Twas the Jump Before Christmas
and all through the plane,
The Jumpmaster's crazy
and the Safety's insane.
The static lines were hung
On the cables with care,
In hopes that a green light
Soon would be there.
At the one minute warning
Not a word would be said,
While malfunctions and entanglements
Danced through their heads.
With the door bundles rigged
I hooked up my pack,
Let's pull this jump off
Without a racetrack!
When out on the wing
There rose such a clatter,
I opened the door
To see what was the matter.
And what to my night visioned eyes
Should appear,
But a towed parachutist
And eight tiny reindeer.
I leaned out the door
And grabbed hold of his sleigh
He gave a four thousand count
When I cut him away.
He fell through the night
'Til I saw him no more,
Then came back inside
And yelled "Stand in the door."
Some jumpers were happy
And some full of fright,
But when the green light came on
They all jumped into the night.
On bundle, on jumpers,
The jumpmaster exits the door,
One thousand, two thousand,
Three thousand, four!
With my body in the blast
And my knees in the breeze,
St. Michael protect me,
From all of these trees!
Dark skies full of chutes
And strong winds did blow,
Then heard a faint distant laughter,
From the DZSO.
One riser slip
Hand over hand to my right,
But my hands were so cold
I could not hold on tight.
Now lower your ruck
And slip hard as you can,
Put your feet and knees together
And get ready to land.
Ball of the feet, calf, thigh,
And push up muscle,
Roll up your chute
And move out with a hustle.
To the chute turn-in point,
The red light and a vest,
Be sure your name is scratched
From the jump manifest.
I saw the assembly point,
A strobe light so bright,
I knew even new troopers,
Would find it that night.
No matter where or when
Be it Desert or Snow,
The Airborne Troopers
Are ready to go.
For it was that jolly
towed parachutist
Holding that light,
Saying happy jumping to all
And to all a good night.
Airborne!
Author Unknown
T'was the night before Christmas and all through the Land,
They're running like rabbits in Afghanistan,
Osama's been praying, he's down on his Knees,
He's hoping that Allah will hear all his Pleas.
He thought if he killed us that we'd fall and Shatter,
But all that he's done is just make us Madder.
We ain't yet forgotten our Marines in Beirut,
And we'll kick your butt, with one heavy Boot.
And yes we remember the USS Cole,
And the lives of our sailors that you bastards Stole.
You think you can rule us and cause us to Fear,
You'll soon get the answer if you live to Hear.
And we ain't forgotten your buddy Saddam,
And he ain't forgotten the sound of our Bombs.
You think that those mountains are somewhere to Hide.
They'll go down in history as the place where you Died.
Remember Khadhafi and his Line of Death?
He came very close, to his final Breath.
So come out and prove it, that you are a Man,
Cause our boys are coming and they have a Plan.
They are our fathers and they are our Sons,
And they sure do carry some mighty big Guns.
They would have stayed home with children and Wives,
Till you bastards came here and took all these Lives.
Osama I wrote this especially for You,
For air mail delivery by B-52.
You soon will be hearing a thud and a whistle,
Old Glory is coming, attached to a Missile
I will not be sorry to see your ass Go.
It's Red, White, and Blue that is running this Show
Author Unkown
A Christmas Theme
'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the skies,
Air defenses were up, with electronic eyes.
Combat pilots were nestled in ready-room beds,
As enemy silhouettes danced in their heads.
Every jet on the apron, each SAM in its tube,
Was triply-redundant linked to the Blue Cube,
And ELINT and AWACS gave coverage so dense
That nothing that flew could slip through our defense.
When out of the klaxon arose such a clatter
I dashed to the screen to see what was the matter;
I dialed up the gain and then quick as a flash
Fine-adjusted the filters to damp out the hash.
And there found the source of the warning we'd heeded:
An incoming blip, by eight escorts preceded.
"Alert status red!" went the word down the wire,
As we gave every system the codes that meant "FIRE"!
On Aegis! Up Patriot, Phalanx and Hawk!
And scramble our fighters -- let's send the whole flock!
Launch decoys and missiles! Use chaff by the yard!
Get the kitchen sink up! Call the National Guard!
They turned toward the target, moved toward it, converged.
Till the tracks on the radar all finally merged,
And the sky was lit up with a demonic light,
As the foe became pieces in the high arctic night.
So we sent out some recon to look for debris,
Yet all that they found, both on land and on sea,
Were some toys, a red hat, a charred left leather boot,
Broken sleigh bells, some gloves, and a ripped parachute.
Now it is not quite Christmas, with Saint Nick shot down.
There are unhappy kids in each village and town.
Can the Spirit of Christmas even hope to evade
All the web of defenses we've carefully made?
Just look how the gadgets we use to protect us
In other ways alter, transform, and affect us.
They can keep us from things that make life more worth living,
Like love for each other, and thoughts of just giving.
But a crash program's on: Working hard, night and day,
All the elves are constructing a radar-proof sleigh.
So let's wait for next Christmas, in cheer and in health,
And be good boys and girls, as Santa goes STEALTH
Author Unknown
The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed 'round the room and I cherished the sight;
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.
Outside the snow fell....a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight;
The sparkling lights on the tree, I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.
My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep;
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem.
So I slumbered in peace, then I started to dream.
The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near,
But I opened my eyes when it came to my ear;
Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know,
Then the sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.
My soul gave a tremble. I struggled to hear,
And I crept to the door just to see who was near;
Standing out there alone in the cold of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.
A soldier, I reckoned, some eighteen years old,
Perhaps a Marine, huddled there in the cold;
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, my wife, and my child.
"What are you doing?" I asked without fear,
"Come in this moment! It's freezing out here;
Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on this cold Christmas Eve!"
For barely a moment, I saw his eyes shift,
Away from the cold, and the snow in a drift;
To the windows that danced with a warm fire's light,
Then he sighed, and he said, "It's really all right."
"I'm out here by choice. I'm here all the time,
It's my duty to stand at the front of the line;
No one has to ask me, or beg, or implore,
I'm proud to stand here like my father before."
"My grandpa at Pearl, on a day in December,
Is a memory my grandma will always remember;
My dad stood his watch in the jungles of 'Nam,
And now it's my turn, and so, here I am.
I've not seen my family in more than a while,
But my parents send pictures. They're great for a smile."
Then he bent down and carefully pulled from his bag,
The Red, White, and Blue. An American flag.
"I can live through the cold, and this being alone,
Away from my family, my house, and my home;
I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a foxhole, with little to eat.
I can carry the weight of killing another,
Or lay down my life for my buddy.....my brother;
Who stand here with me against any and all,
To insure for all time that this flag does not fall.
So go back inside," he said, "harbor no fright,
Your family is waiting and I'll be all right."
"But isn't there something I can do, at the least,
Give you some money? Prepare you a feast?
It seems all too little for all that you do,
Being away from your home and your family too."
Then his eyes welled a tear that held no regret,
"Just tell us you love us, and never forget;
To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone;
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.
For when we come home, wither standing or dead,
To know you remember we fought and we bled,
Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,
That we mattered to you, as you mattered to us."
Army Christmas Operations Order:12-24-08
Subject: Christmas
1. An official visit by MG Santa (NMI) Claus is expected at this
headquarters 25 December 2008. The following instructions will be in
effect and govern the activities of all personnel during the visit.
a. Not a creature will stir without official permission. This
will include indigenous mice. Special stirring permits for necessary
administrative actions will be obtained through normal channels. Mice
stirring permits will be obtained through the Office of the Surgeon
General, Veterinary Services.
b. Personnel will settle their brains for a long winter nap
prior to 2200 hours, 24 December 2008. Uniform for the nap will be:
Pajamas, cotton,light, drowsing, with kerchief, general purpose,
camouflage; and Cap, camouflage w/ear flaps. Equipment will be
drawn from CIF prior to 1900 hours, 24 December 2008
c. Personnel will utilize standard field ration sugar plums for
visions to dance through their heads. Artificially sweetened plums are
authorized for those in their unit weight control program. Specifications
for this item will be provided by the servicing dining facility.
d. Stockings, wool, cushion sole, will be hung by the chimney with
care. Necessary safety precautions will be taken to avoid fire hazards
caused by carelessly hung stockings. Unit safety Officers will submit
stocking hanging plans to this headquarters prior to 0800 hours,
24 December 2008, ATTN: DCSLOG, for approval.
e. At the first sign of clatter from the lawn, all troops will
spring from their beds to evaluate noise and cause. Immediate action
will be taken to tear open the shutters and throw open the window sashes.
DCSOPS Plan (Saint Nick), Reference LO No. 3, paragraph 6c, this headquarters,
2 February 2008, will be in effect to facilitate shutter tearing and sash
throwing. Division chiefs will familiarize all personnel with procedures and
are responsible for ensuring that no shutters are torn
open nor window sashes thrown open prior to start of official clatter.
f. Prior to 2400, 24 December 2008, all personnel will be assigned
"Wondering Eye" stations. After shutters are thrown open and sashes are torn,
these stations will be manned.
g. The ODCSLOG will assign one each Sleigh, miniature, M-66, and eight (8)
deer, rein, tiny, for use of MG Claus' driver who, IAW current directives and
other applicable regulations, must have a valid SF 56 properly annotated by
Driver Testing; be authorized rooftop parking and be able to shout "On Dasher,
on Dancer, on Prancer and Vixen, up Comet, up Cupid, on Donner and Blitzen".
2. MG Claus will enter quarters through standard chimneys. All units without
chimneys will draw Chimney Simulator, M-6, for use during ceremonies. Chimney
simulator units will be requested on Engineer Job Order Request Form submitted
to the Furniture Warehouse prior to 19 December 2008, and issued on DA Form 3161,
Request for Issue or Turn-in.
3. Personnel will be rehearsed on shouting "Merry Christmas to all and to all a
good night." This shout will be given on termination of General Claus' visit.
Uniformity of shouting is the responsibility of division chiefs.
/x// CHRISTOPHER K. RINGLE
Colonel, USA
OIC, Special Services
Distribution:
Everybody Who Still Believes
THE GOLD WRAPPING PAPER
It's said that we have a choice to make.
I've chosen. Now it's your turn to choose.
The story goes that some time ago,
a man punished his 5-year-old daughter for
wasting a roll of expensive gold wrapping paper.
Money was tight and he became even more upset
when the child pasted the gold paper so as to decorate
a box to put under the Christmas tree.
Nevertheless, the little girl brought the gift box
to her father the next morning and said,
"This is for you, Daddy." The father was embarrassed
by his earlier overreaction, but his anger flared again
when he found the box was empty.
He spoke to her in a harsh manner:
"Don't you know, young lady, when you give someone a present
there's supposed to be something inside the package?
The little girl looked up at him with tears in her eyes and said:
"Daddy, it's not empty. I blew kisses into it until it was full."
The father was crushed. He fell on his knees and put his arms
around his little girl, and he begged her to forgive him
for his unnecessary anger.
An accident took the life of the child only a short time later
and it is told that the father kept that gold box by his bed
for all the years of his life. And whenever he was discouraged
or faced difficult problems he would open the box and take out
an imaginary kiss and remember the love of the child who had
put it there. In a very real sense, each of us as human beings have!
been given a golden box filled with unconditional love and kisses
from our children, family, friends and God.
There is no more precious possession anyone could hold.
Santa's Reindeer are Female
According to the Alaska Department of Fish and Game, while both
male and female reindeer grow antlers in the summer each year,
male reindeer drop their antlers at the beginning of winter, usually
late November to mid-December. Female reindeer retain their
antlers till after they give birth in the spring.
Therefore, according to every historical rendition depicting Santa's
reindeer, every single one of them, from Rudolph to Blitzen....had
to be a girl.
We should've known. Only women would be able to drag a fat man
in a red velvet suit, all around the world in one night, and not get
lost.
Author Unknown
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