Christmas Carols for the Psychiatrically Challenged

Christmas Carols for the Psychiatrically Challenged

SCHIZOPHRENIA:  Do You Hear What I Hear?

MULTIPLE PERSONALITY DISORDER:  We Three Kings Disoriented Are

DEMENTIA:  I Think I’ll Be Home For Christmas

NARCISSISTIC:  Hark, the Herald Angels Sing About Me

MANIC:  Deck the Halls and Walls and House and Lawn and Streets and Stores
and Office and Town and Cars and Buses and Trucks and Trees and Fire
Hydrants and .  .  .

PARANOID:  Santa Claus Is Coming To Get Me

PERSONALITY DISORDER:  You Better Watch Out, I’m Gonna Cry, I’m Gonna
Pout, Maybe I’ll Tell You Why

DEPRESSION:  Silent Anhedonia, Holy Anhedonia, All Is Flat, All Is
Lonely

OBSESSIVE-COMPULSIVE DISORDER:  Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock,
Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle
Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle
Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle
Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell
Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell,
Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell,
Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock,
Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle
Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle
Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle
Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell
Rock, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock, ……..  (better start
again)

PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE PERSONALITY:  On The First Day of Christmas My True Love
Gave To Me (and then took it all away)

BORDERLINE PERSONALITY DISORDER:  Thoughts of Roasting on an Open Fire.

Christmas Carols

Funny Jokes – Breakfast

I Got Breakfast!

I try to be creative at disguising obvious gifts when wrapping Christmas presents. One year I bought a video for my four-year-old son, and not wanting him to guess what it was, I put it in a cereal box, wrapped it and put it under the tree.

Christmas morning he tore off the paper, let out a whoop and exclaimed, “Look, Mom, I got breakfast!”

‘Twas the Month After Christmas

‘Twas the month after Christmas, and all through the house, Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.

The cookies I’d nibbled, the eggnog I’d taste, At the holiday parties had gone to my waist.

When I got on the scales there arose such a number! When I walked to the store (less a walk than a lumber).

I’d remember the marvelous meals I’d prepared, The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rared.

The latte’s and snacks, the bread and the cheese, And the way I’d never said, “No thank you, please.”

As I dressed myself in my husband’s old shirt, And prepared once again to do battle with dirt.

I said to myself, as I only can, You can’t spend a winter disguised as a man!”

So–away with the last of the sour cream dip, Get rid of the fruit cake, every cracker and chip.

Every last bit of food that I like must be banished, ‘Till all the additional ounces have vanished.

I won’t have a cookie–not even a lick, I’ll want only to chew on a long celery stick.

I won’t have hot biscuits, or corn bread, or pie, I’ll munch on a carrot and quietly cry.

I’m hungry, I’m lonesome, and life is a bore, But isn’t that what January is for?

Unable to giggle, no longer a riot, Happy New Year to all and to all a good diet!