Sunday, December 09, 2007
You can take Santa out of the Ghetto, but you can't take the Ghetto out of Santa
Santa's got a fat setup in the North Pole with all those midget slaves and electronics and shit, but it wasn't always like that. Santa actually grew up in the Coney Island area of Brooklyn and got his first big break shooting hoops in the rough-and-tumble Carey Gardens housing project. St. Nick's skills on the playground earned him the respect to get out of the gang life that engrossed so many of his peers, but the experience scarred his fragile mind. Beneath his outwardly jolly demeanor, a hard understanding of the ugliness of man exists.
Obviously Santa has since moved on to a better place up North, but legend has it in Carey Gardens that Santa still maintains an apartment in the building, and through extensive philandering has fathered a large proportion of its residents.
Think this is a joke, do you? Why is it that you never hear poems about Santa as a young man? Ever consider that, smartass?
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2 comments:
I remember Santa smokin' those red devils... SSSSSSSSS!
Here's a poem about santa as a young man:
Hitting the bricks late in the night,
that fat motherfucker cold picking some fights.
A big red suit and a high school diploma,
teenage santa got more pussy than Richard Roma.
It was tough on the streets being white in the hood,
but his big black boots did him plenty of good.
His head was shaved, big gold teeth in his jaw,
ten bitches blew him before he learned to draw.
Sixteen inches from balls to tip,
the girls always loved santa's pre-come drip.
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