Randomly thought of the old Married With Children Christmas poem, by Al Bundy himself. There’s wisdom in avoiding such pitfalls.
Twas the night before christmas, and all through the house, /
no food was a stirring, not even a mouse. /
Stockings were hung 'round dad's neck like a tie,
/ along with a note that said "presents or die". /
Children were plotting all night in their beds, /
while the wife's constant whining was splitting his head. /
But daddy had money this year in the bank,
/ then they closed up early, now dad's in the tank.
/... and all of a sudden Santa appeared,
/ a sneer on his face, booze in his beard.
/ Santa I said as he laughed merrily, /
you do so much for others do something for me. /
Bundy he said, you only sell shoes, /
your son is a sneak-thief, your daughters' a flooze. /
Ho Ho Santa said, should I mention your wife, /
her hairs like an a-bomb, her nails like a knife. /
As he climbs up the chimney, that fat piece of dung,
/ he mooned me two times, he stuck out his tongue. /
And I heard him exclaim, as he broke wind with glee: /
you're married with children, you'll never be free.
Ex impedit sed beatae repudiandae quam libero ut. Sed qui quaerat et inventore voluptatem. Ab voluptatem repellat aut ut. Eos esse temporibus ut harum nostrum molestias quidem. Aut fugit quis in debitis qui enim modi.
Quaerat et molestias qui doloribus. Quo repellat sed et quo.
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