Bonus Party: It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like, Well, Christmas

From its first sentence, you can tell Cokesbury’s Christmas Party was written in a more innocent, less politically-correct time:

Every group of young people, every Sunday school class, and every society expects to have a party for Christmas.

It’s actually kinda cute, reading that sentence these days. You wouldn’t dare write such a thing today, for fear of offending someone outside of the everys mentioned because the exceptions are no longer content – or mature – enough to brush off this innocent Judeo-Christian all-inclusiveness and instead scream not for inclusion of their belief or non-belief, but for the abolition of what was believed and celebrated by

SMACK!

Sorry. Feeling a little persecuted these days. But still, you have to agree that sentence today would either be replaced by this:

Non-progressive, easily-offended conservative Republican young people (all three of them, two of them named Biffy), conscripted enrollees in parochial, partiarchally-oppressive Jebus-schools, and societies embodied by the cranky, evil-looking old people taking the Pledge of Allegiance as they begin their Christopher Mott Society meeting at the beginning of the Dick van Dyke film Cold Turkey expect to have a Christmas party in which they can espouse their evil, monocultural beliefs in order to perpetuate oppression of atheists, progressives and other open-minded folks who see Jebusism for the crock and fraud that it is, so they may as well celebrate stupidly. Because they’re progressively and morally and ethically bankrupt individuals who will die and go to hell, that is, if there were such a place, you know, which really isn’t a progressive thought, so let’s not even go there. But we’ve got a urinating dog and Bob Newhart! What could be better?

Or this:

[Embarrassed silence, feet shuffling, um, let’s not offend anyone by suggesting, you know, anything about Christ -- ]

SMACK!

I know. I suppose I’m feeling a bit persecuted these days. But on to the party:

Three nights before Christmas,

When all through the town,

Wise men and wise women

Will be looking around

For evenings of fun

And places of cheer,

Don’t look any further,

Come right over here.

For Thursday at eight,

The time has been set;

Bring a gift for another,

And see what you get.

Then, Cokesbury advises, “Give the address of the place where the party is to be held.” Don’t want people wandering the town searching in vain for your party now, do you?

Here’s the first game, a real corker:

The Doll Shop. All the even numbers are placed on one side and the odd numbers on the other. Two persons are selected from the even number group to be the shopkeepers, and two persons are selected from the odd number group to be the doll shoppers. After the game has been played for five or six minutes, depending on how much time the leader wishes to take up with it, a change is made, and the odd group become the shopkeepers and the even group the doll shoppers, and an equal amount of time should be allowed the odd group. The object of the game is to see who can have the largest number on their side when the time is up. The game proceeds in the following manner: The buyers come to the doll shop and say they are interested in buying some dolls. They do not want dolls that are too serious. All the dolls that they take must be laughing, giggling dolls. The shopkeeper then demonstrates the dolls, which are the persons on his side. They walk with stiff legs and try to imitate dolls. The purchaser asks questions about them such as, “Will this doll go to sleep?” “Does this doll say Mama?” The shopkeeper must demonstrate by making the doll say “Mama.” Any other crazy question may be asked by the shopper, and if the doll laughs he gets it. If the doll remains serious, he goes back to his side and another is demonstrated. After sides have been changed and the odd side has had an equal amount of time, a prize may be given to the winning side, such as a small jar of candy, or a bag of peanuts, or something that can be divided among the players of the group.

Or, they could just pull a Dick Van Dyke/Sally Anne Howes (so you don’t think I’m down on Mr. Van Dyke):



Bonus points to the shopper who can bombast as much as Baron Bomburst.

Now it’s on to a more sophisticated game:

Hang Up the Christmas Stocking. A mantel has been drawn on a sheet with crayons or lamp black. A place is marked for the stocking. Each guest is blindfolded and turned around and must walk to the mantel and pin the stocking the first place he touches. Five a prize to the one who gets the stocking nearest to the right place.

And this is why the Jebus-lovers are so feared these days. They get to five a prize, you know. I’m sure it’s a typo. I’ve never fived a prize my entire life.

Here’s another game sure to offend the atheists on your non-denominational winter holiday list:

Christmas Stagecoach. This is played like the game of Stagecoach. One person reads the Christmas poem, “’Twas the Night Before Christmas” as the other players sit in a circle with all chairs full. The players are given words in advance, for example, house, mouse, reindeer, stockings, toys, etc. As the poem is read, the one who has the word must get up and turn around. At any time the person who is reading may yell “Santa Claus,” and when he does so all must change seats. If the leader secures a seat, the one left over becomes the reader.

(Yes, yes, I know the poem by Clement Clarke Moore is really called “A Visit from St. Nicholas,” but “Twas” is an alternate title, so don’t get all knotted up about it. I guarantee there’ll be other stuff you can get knotted up about here. This is, after all, the main, central celebration of the Jebus-freakin’ capitalism-lovin’ hypocritical hypocritin’ booger-beings.)

Of course, there are three ways you can do this game. You can do it straight right out of the Cokesbury Bible (I hope I didn’t offend anyone by using that word – straight – because I suppose folks could use it queer right out of the Cokesbury Bible . . . what? Why are you all leaving? Was it something I said?). Or, alternatively, you could do it in a way that makes people move whenever they hear an offensive word or idea in the poem. Or you could substitute the Larry the Cable Guy version:



Uncle Jessee. Whooooooo.

And yet another game:

Christmas Presents. These have been brought by each guest and placed on the tree and numbered. The number should be concealed, or perhaps it would be better to have the presents put in a basket and numbered by the leader and then have the basket brought in just before time to give out the presents. Of course there will be a lot of crazy presents. Nothing should cost over ten or twenty-five cents. As the numbers are called, the one holding that number comes up and gets his package and opens it and plays with it. This will cause a lot of fun.

Confession time: My family, for years, played a similar game, but with white elephant gifts specifically chosen for hilarity. The most popular was a pair of Argentinian underwear – a pair of yellow briefs – that appeared from year to year. Once they were used to construct Noah’s Ark. Another year they were artfully folded into a rosette. They did cause a lot of fun. This game is actually worth doing, folks.

Now it’s refreshment time. You already know, of course, what Cokesbury’s first suggestion is. Say it with me:

Sandwiches and coffee.

Or, alternately, Christmas cookies cut in the shape of stars. Or coffee and fruit cake with red and green candies. Or whatever it is that Jebus-freaks like to eat this time of year. Babies or something.

Week Fifteen: Easter Party

Easter Bunny Is Watching You.

"Easter is not only the time of the resurrection of Christ," Cokesbury says, "but is also the beginning of spring, the time of the resurrection of nature. The sap begins to rise in the trees, the flowers peep through the ground, the birds sing, and the whole earth takes on the spirit of resurrected life. Easter is the time when spring fever begins to get into the blood, and the time for wholesome recreation has come."

The sap rises, indeed. Be prepared for lots of egg-related puns and enough bunny and chick-themed decorations to make your local holiday-anticipating merchant drool. And for you agnostics and atheists out there, relax. Cokesbury's Easter party is as secular as a car wash. Or, for that matter, Charles Schulz' It's the Easter Beagle, Charlie Brown. Witness:

Here's the invitation. Those who hate puns best skip it:

On Thursday evening, we are planning and egg-cellent Easter party. If this invitation is egg-cepted, we are egg-specting you to be there eggs-actly at eight. No eggs-cuses will be eggs-cepted. The girsla re eggs-pected to bring a chick had that was chick long ago, the one bringing the oldest and most ridiculous will win a chick prize. 414 Fern Street.

And, in case you didn't get enough: eggs, eggs, eggs, eggs, eggs. eggs. And chick. Don't bother moving to Fern Street; everyone will be too nauseated by the puns to notice you've given the incorrect address. And those who make it that far will egg 414 Fern Street, not your abode, so you're better of not revealing where you live.

Now, for the decorations, which will carry a certain motif even further:

Use yellow and green crepe paper streamers. Pictures of rabbits and chickens should be in evidence. Baskets of Easter eggs should be on the table and the piano. Use flowers, especially lilies in vases or pots.

Don't have a piano? Too bad. Better go get one, now. And if you're going that far, may as well move to Fern Street.

Now of course it's time to get your friends organized, because there's nothing worse than having a bunch of disaorganized friends at a party. Note this organization will make the next two activities, in which you'll encourage your friends to make articles of clothing out of garbage, go that much better.

Partners: Mutt and Jeff. The girls are taken into one room, and the boys remain in the other. The girls are arranged according to height, the shortest in front. The boys are arranged according to height, the tallest in front. The are then asked to number, beginning from the front. When all come together, the boy, the tall one who was in front and number one, will find the girl who is number one and the short one who was at the front, and they will be partners, and so on until all numbers are matched.

Remember, nothing says Easter more than pairing up your oparty guests to resemble characters from a comic strip created at the turn of the 20th century. This is, of course, keeping with the secular theme of your Easter Party (Bonus: Jeff was a resident of an insane asylum, until Mutt recognized his spylike qualities). If your guests need more illustration of the comic hijinx of Mutt and Jeff to get them in the proper Easter spirit, have them watch this:

Now, on to the Easter hats and frocks. Men, this is what Cokesbury wants you to do:

Provide each boy with crepe paper or tissue paper in various colors, and scissors, pins, and paste. Each boy is to make a hat for his partner, using these materials. After all have finished, a prize is given to the one producing the best hat in the estimation of the judges.

In lieu of making the hat, newspaper may be provided with which to fashion Easter frocks. A stack of old newspapers, among them some comic sheets to lend color. Instead of comic sheets, colored crepe paper may be supplied to decorate the dresses with, to make sashes, or collars, ties, etc.

Okay Internet Age, just try doing this activity without a newspaper. Just try. See what your wicked, information-wants-to-be-free attitude is doing? In ten years' time, NO ONE will be able to make a mock Easter dress out of newsprint. NO ONE will go home from an Easter party smudged with printers ink or with a tattoo of Alley Oop or Beetle Bailey on the thigh of their white pants. NO ONE. Is this the kind of world you really want?
You've got me in a fighting mood now. On to the next game:

Fighting Easter Eggs. Give each guest three hard-boiled eggs which have been colored. These can be the same eggs that are used for decorations. They are to fight eggs -- that is, they are to try to break the eggs of opponents by hitting them with their own egg. If they succeed in cracking the shell of the opponent's egg, they are to get the egg. The cracked egg thus acquired may be used to fight with, and it is possible to break a good egg with the other end that is not cracked. Whoever succeeds in winning the largest number of eggs wins a prize.

A prize like a few dozen shattered hard-boiled eggs. Or perhaps they'll be handed back in and use for the refreshments later on. Hope they haven't been out of the cold too long! It might also be a good idea to play a good battlin' song, like Battle of the Banjos or Barry Manilow's Copacabana, during the fighting to keep people in the proper frame of mind.

Note: You would NOT believe how hard it was to find a good rendition of this song on YouTube. Stop that laughing. Of COURSE there are good renditions of this song. And another note: How does one merengue? Ah, once again the Magic of YouTube.) Once your guests are all riled up, it's best to move into the next activity without letting them cool down:

Rabbit Relay Race. Get a number of Easter rabbits from the five-and-ten-cent store. There should be ten of these, although a smaller number will do, even four. In the relay the couples with the even numbers are matched against the couples with the odd numbers. The evens and the odds stand in two lines of equal number facing each other. Five rabbits are placed on a chair at the head of each line. Upon a signal from the leader, the first person in line picks up a rabbit and starts passing it down the line, then another and another until all ahve gone down the line. When they reach the other end of the line, the must be laid on a chair until all the rabbits have passed down. The one on the other end of the line must then start passing them back one at a time. This game may be lengthened by having the rabbits make to laps -- that is, to go down and back twice.

If you do this game, I recommend keeping Copacabana on a recurring loop until everyone is exhausted. Or at least until everyone has stuffed hard-boiled egg remnants into their ears.

Now, as it is wise once the children are riled up to calm them down with a quieter game, I recommend this one. Note to athiests and agnostics: I know this game involved the concept of Sunday. Simply think of it as just another day of the week, which, obviously, you already do.)

Making the Most of Easter Sunday. Give to each guest a sheet of paper with the words "Easter Sunday" written at the top. Allow them five or six minutes to make words from the letters in Easter Sunday. The guest making the longest list of words wins and hsould be given a prize.

Here are a few words I came up with:

saunaed tyres
assay denture
neauseates dry
undersea stay
sauteed yarns
unready asset
unsteady ears

Which is probably what you'll get before this post is over because I'm not done with Barry Manilow yet.

Anal retentives out ther are still wondering, of course, when we'll get to the reason for asking the chicks (remember, never call chicks broads) to bring their "chick" hats. Here you go; you can start breathing again:

Easter Bonnet Contest. The girls have been asked in the invitation to bring an old hat. The older the hat, the better and the funnier. Have them don these hats and parade before the group and the judges. The judges may decide the winner by holding his hand over the contestants and judging by the amount of applause. The one who has the oldest and funniest hat should receive a prize.

Maybe more broken eggs from the previous game, or, perhaps, a requirement to sing Copacabana karaoke style.

That's it, except for the refreshments, which again show off your cutting-sandwiches-into-impossible shapes ability:

Serve sandwiches cut in the shape of chicken or rabbit. A smal souffle cup of candy eggs. Ice-cream modlded as chicken, rabbit, or lily. Hot chocolate with marshmallows.

Truly, I'd love to have the marshmallow concession in a truly Cokesbury neighborhood. And that's it until next week's May-Day Party, except for this. And you know you want to sing along:

Her name was Lola,
she was a showgirl
with yellow feathers in her hair
and a dress cut down to there.
She would merengue
and do the cha-cha . . .