…is 1280 x 1024!

LOL!

Rolling on the floor laughing!!!

Share your goals for the new year!

This is the story of Joey and the Christmas Miracle.

Joey couldn’t sleep the night before Christmas, not from the discomfort of his filthy mattress or the vermin that kept scurrying forth from his hair to nourish themselves on his blood, but from the excitement of waking up to discover what Santa had brought him.

Because his squalid apartment under the 10 freeway didn’t have a chimney, Joey wondered if Santa would be able to get in through the radiator, especially since the gas company had shut off the heat months ago after he had spent his last $40 on the new version of EverQuest. He was cold, but his paladin was already 10th level!

As he lay in bed swatting at his skin, Joey heard sleigh bells in the alley out back, where his neighbor Ramirez had been recently stabbed 27 times with an ice pick in a drug deal gone wrong (or right, depending on what gang you belong to).

“Santa!” Joey shrieked, as he peeked out the barred windows. Sure enough, there in the alley was a fat old man with a white beard. Rubbing his eyes to make sure it wasn’t one of the old drunks who lived in the alley in a box, Joey convinced himself it really was the jolly old elf St. Nick and pulled his emaciated body through the bars into the litter strewn alley.

“Santa, Santa!” Joey yelled, as he nearly pissed his Spiderman pajamas for the second time that night, “have you brought me a treat?”

“Oh, Joey,” said Santa. “I’m afraid no one will be getting Christmas treats tonight. The Crips in your neighborhood mistook Rudolph’s nose and my red suit as a gang instigation and shot up all my reindeer with their glocks. Now I don‘t know how I‘ll deliver all the presents to the children!”

“Don’t worry, Santa,” Joey said, “I’m a shape shifter,” as he began convulsing his tiny, bird-like frame in the alley.

Joey was molting!

In a poof of feathers and pixie dust, Joey transformed himself into a tiny sparrow.

With a few peeps and whistles, he summoned all the bedraggled pigeons in the neighborhood and with the slight Joey bird leading the way, the motley flock pulled Santa’s sleigh and delivered gifts to all the world’s children.

And when Joey flew home, what did he find, right there by the busted up radiator? Medicine for his advanced case of rickets! He wouldn’t die after all! And just like that, Joey’s little bird-like heart that hammered away in his partially translucent chest grew three sizes and then burst through his frail ribcage in an explosive font of crimson gore!

It was a Christmas miracle.

It’s Christmastime in SargeWorld, and you’re all formally invited to our holiday cocktail party pod cast! Joey’s looking pretty queer in his elf costume and The Gator has four stolen nativity scenes in the payload of his truck. With this as the festive backdrop, we discuss how cell phones and video games can kill your family in time for Christmas and rate the hotness of my new Internet girlfriend. Plus, special holiday visits from Rickey Kang, Orlando Bloom and Bono.

Speaking of Rickey Kang, he sent me Christmas letter.

I never pegged him as the type of guy who would send these things out, but Rickey is always good for pulling a surprise on you. Like that time he put on a ninja suit and scaled the wall of my old apartment building with a grappling hook, climbed in through the window while I was sleeping and pretended to assassinate me with a samurai sword. I just didn’t see that coming (evidenced by the fact that I shat my bed), especially because he lives in Florida. Turns out he was in town to see a Molly Hatchet concert, and after the mock assassination and the mandatory linen cleaning, we had a good laugh. We got all kinds of torn up on beer and got thrown out of a pool hall because Rickey kept trying to smash a cue ball on his forehead. Rickey also broke a few of the bouncer’s ribs with a pool cue. That’s a fun memory…

Anyway, here’s his letter.

Merry Christmas everybody. Let’s party. HAHA! Fuck it.

Anyways, I’m just sending out this letter to all you warriors out there who love pain and partyin‘. I’m not goin’ to get all sappy and tell you about how you should get yourself right with the spirit of the season, but, fact is, you should. This is a special time of year that only comes around once a year, and, for me, it’s a time to think back on all the good shit that has happened to me.

So, even though a lot of bad shit happened to me this year, like when I fell off my cousin’s roof and broke my back and didn’t have any insurance. Or when I got drunk on Peach Schnapps and crashed my truck into the burnt out Stuckey’s off I-95 and my knee cap ended up down by my ankle and I had to fix it myself with duct tape and a staple gun. Or when I fell down the basement stairs and jabbed a pencil into my neck and it broke off and my head turned black. All that really sucked, and it hurt. But this letter here is for the good stuff, so here goes.

First off, I got some new mats for my training dojo. Since the last ones got ruined when my son Cody-Cheyanne used them to build a go-kart jump and then left them in the rain. We’ve had to train on the bare linoleum since. And that’s good for increasing pain threshold, but it’s not so good for some the older and younger students who broke a lot of things… like a hip, a lot of fingers and, one time, an eye socket. So, for the new mats, I’m thankful.

Next up, my son Cody-Cheyanne is no longer home schooled. He got re-admitted into the Patoka Lake Grade School after he was expelled for a year for biting off his science teacher’s pinky fingers at the second knuckle and spitting it into a fish tank. I’ll miss having him round the house, but the squirrels won’t. He’s kills about three a day with his bare hands. I have no idea how he does it. He just brings em’, one-by-one, dead, up to the front porch. That boy is quicker than a ferret. And he’s a warrior. Like his daddy.

Last up, I’m thankful I’m off house arrest and that I can go out again and raise hell like a mother fucker! If you don’t believe it, come down to my KickAss Karate Kamp anytime and I’ll be glad to show you. Then we’ll have a beer.

So Merry X-Mas! Turn one up for me.

Rickey Kang.

Rickey’s been getting drunk and writing me a lot since he messed up his back and can’t get around as well as he used to, so I’m going to start a new section of SargeWorld called Kang’s Korner for all his letters. Should be up soon.

Once upon a time there was a quilter named Beth. Though she was very poor, living in a dingy trailer park in Oklahoma with her two half-wit boys Conrad and Chip, and wildly obese, she made the most beautiful quilts! She sold them on eBay!

How beautiful were her quilts? Oh, they were wondrous! Stitched from the finest fabrics, each square on the glorious patchworks featured radiant colors, with lovely pictures of hearts, doves, and the most beautiful flowers. When you laid down at night to slumber and covered yourself with one of her quilts, it wasn’t so much the soft downy feathers that kept you warm, but the love that Beth put into every stitch.

As Christmas approached, the Internet was abuzz about the beauty and unmatched quality of Beth’s quilts, and her eBay orders went up and up and up!

“Oh my,” sung Beth, “with all these quilt sales, I’ll have enough money to buy Christmas gifts for Conrad and Chip! Braces for Conrad’s twig-like legs, and a glass eye for the gaping hole in Chip’s misshapen head!”

But everyone who ordered a quilt wanted to give it as Christmas gift, and Beth didn’t want to ruin her impeccable eBay rating, so it soon became clear that she’d have to work so very extra hard to get them all done on time. She worked day and night with very little sleep, taking breaks only to drain Conrad’s leg bag, but it wasn’t enough! There were only seven more days before Christmas, and she didn’t know how she’d get all those quilts done unless she didn’t sleep at all!

Thinking it was a lost cause, Beth began to cry silently in the trailer as she got up to open another box of Snackwells. As she went to the cupboard, she passed a window and saw Rick, her wiry neighbor. All Beth knew about Rick is he never seemed to sleep, spending all his time sitting on a lawn chair in front of his trailer smoking Old Gold 100s, drinking beer, and collecting disability from his dry wall job.

“Rick, oh Rick,” Beth yelled out the window. “How is it that you never sleep?”

“Come over to my trailer, and I’ll show you,” Rick said.

Beth lumbered over to Rick’s filthy trailer as Rick prepared a line of something that looked like ice crystals on his TV tray.

“Suck that up your nose, pudgy. You won’t sleep for days.”

Beth, thinking Rick was a Christmas Angel sprinkling pixie dust, used a rolled up re-order card from a Guns & Ammo magazine that was laying on the TV tray to huff that big fat gagger of a line in one pull. By the time she got back to her trailer, she felt more energized than she had even as a 210 pound twelve year old, and made 14 quilts in 26 hours, so clear was her mind and nimble her fat hands!

“This is a gift! Santa is real!” Beth laughed, but starting to crash a bit as she lumbered back to Rick’s to get more magic snow flakes.

“Oh, you’re back already,” Rick said. “Well this time, it’s gonna cost ya.”

“Cost me,” gasped Beth, “but I won’t have any money until I finish all my Christmas quilts!”

“I don’t want money, woman,” Rick replied.

Six days, 17 lines and 9 wet, fat-mouthed blow jobs later, Beth had finished all her quilts. She had enough money to buy the medical supply gifts for her half-wit sons, and had lost 60 pounds from not eating and doing meth for seven straight days in the process!

It really was, a Christmas miracle.

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What are you thankful for this holiday season? Share your thoughts below!