The Monday Morning Mirth

Tag: speed

  • Veet for Men Hair Removal Gel Creme

    Veet for Men Hair Removal Gel Creme 200 ml (Personal Care) – Customer Review

    After having been told my danglies looked like an elderly rastafarian I decided to take the plunge and buy some of this as previous shaving attempts had only been mildly succesful and I nearly put my back out trying to reach the more difficult bits. Being a bit of a romantic I thought I would do the deed on the missus’s birthday as a bit of a treat.

    I ordered it well in advance and working in the North sea I considerd myself a bit above some of the characters writing the previous reviews and wrote them off as soft office types…oh my fellow sufferers how wrong I was. I waited until the other half was tucked up in bed and after giving some vague hints about a special surprise I went down to the bathroom. Initially all went well and I applied the gel and stood waiting for something to happen. I didn’t have long to wait.

    At first there was a gentle warmth which in a matter of seconds was replaced by an intense burning and a feeling I can only describe as like being given a barbed wire wedgie by two people intent on hitting the ceiling with my head. Religion hadn’t featured much in my life until that night but I suddenly became willing to convert to any religion to stop the violent burning around the turd tunnel and what seemed like the destruction of the meat and two veg.

    Struggling to not bite through my bottom lip I tried to wash the gel off in the sink and only succeeded in blocking the plughole with a mat of hair. Through the haze of tears I struggled out of the bathroom across the hall into the kitchen by this time walking was not really possible and I crawled the final yard to the fridge in the hope of some form of cold relief. I yanked the freezer drawer out and found a tub of ice cream, tore the lid of and positioned it under me. The relief was fantastic but only temporary as it melted fairly quickly and the fiery stabbing soon returned.

    Due to the shape of the ice cream tub I hadn’t managed to give the starfish any treatment and I groped around in the draw for something else as I was sure my vision was going to fail fairly soon. I grabbed a bag of what I later found out was frozen sprouts and tore it open trying to be quiet as I did so. I took a handful of them and tried in vain to clench some between the cheeks of my arse. This was not doing the trick as some of the gel had found it’s way up the chutney channel and it felt like the space shuttle was running it’s engines behind me.

    This was probably and hopefully the only time in my life I was going to wish there was a gay snowman in the kitchen which should give you some idea of the depths I was willing to sink to in order to ease the pain. The only solution my pain crazed mind could come up with was to gently ease one of the sprouts where no veg had gone before.

    Unfortunately, alerted by the strange grunts coming from the kitchen the other half chose that moment to come and investigate and was greeted by the sight of me, arse in the air, strawberry ice cream dripping from my bell end pushing a sprout up my arse while muttering…" Ooooh that feels good ". Understandably this was a shock to her and she let out a scream and as I hadn’t heard her come in it caused an involutary spasm of shock in myself which resulted in the sprout being ejected at quite some speed in her direction. I can understand that having a sprout farted against your leg at 11 at night in the kitchen probably wasn’t the special surprise she was expecting and having to explain to the kids the next day what the strange hollow in the ice cream was didn’t improve my status…So to sum it up Veet removes hair, dignity and self respect…:)

  • 101 Ways to Really Annoy People

    1. Sing the Batman theme incessantly.

    2. In the memo field of all your checks, write "for sensual massage."

    3. Specify that your drive-through order is "to go."

    4. Learn Morse code, and have conversations with friends in public consisting entirely of "Beeeep Bip Bip Beeep Bip…"

    5. If you have a glass eye, tap on it occasionally with your pen while talking to others.

    6. Amuse yourself for endless hours by hooking a camcorder to your TV and then pointing it at the screen.

    7. Speak only in a "robot" voice.

    8. Push all the flat Lego pieces together tightly.

    9. Start each meal by conspicuously licking all your food, and announce that this is so no one will "swipe your grub".

    10. Leave the copy machine set to reduce 200%, extra dark, 17 inch paper, 98 copies.

    11. Stomp on little plastic ketchup packets.

    12. Sniffle incessantly.

    13. Leave your turn signal on for fifty miles.

    14. Name your dog "Dog."

    15. Insist on keeping your car windshield wipers running in all weather conditions "to keep them tuned up."

    16. Reply to everything someone says with "that’s what YOU think."

    17. Claim that you must always wear a bicycle helmet as part of your "astronaut training."

    18. Declare your apartment an independent nation, and sue your neighbors upstairs for "violating your airspace".

    19. Forget the punchline to a long joke, but assure the listener it was a "real hoot."

    20. Follow a few paces behind someone, spraying everything they touch with Lysol.

    21. Practice making fax and modem noises.

    22. Highlight irrelevant information in scientific papers and "cc:" them to your boss.

    23. Make beeping noises when a large person backs up.

    24. Invent nonsense computer jargon in conversations, and see if people play along to avoid the appearance of ignorance.

    25. Erect an elaborate network of ropes in your backyard, and tell the neighbors you are a "spider person."

    26. Finish all your sentences with the words "in accordance with the prophesy."

    27. Wear a special hip holster for your remote control.

    28. Do not add any inflection to the end of your sentences, producing awkward silences with the impression that you’ll be saying more any moment.

    29. Signal that a conversation is over by clamping your hands over your ears.

    30. Disassemble your pen and "accidentally" flip the ink cartridge across the room.

    31. Give a play-by-play account of a persons every action in a nasal Howard Cosell voice.

    32. Holler random numbers while someone is counting.

    33. Adjust the tint on your TV so that all the people are green, and insist to others that you "like it that way."

    34. Drum on every available surface.

    35. Staple papers in the middle of the page.

    36. Ask 1-800 operators for dates.

    37. Produce a rental video consisting entirely of dire FBI copyright warnings.

    38. Sew anti-theft detector strips into peoples backpacks.

    39. Hide dairy products in inaccessible places.

    40. Write the surprise ending to a novel on its first page.

    41. Set alarms for random times.

    42. Order a side of pork rinds with your filet mignon.

    43. Instead of Gallo, serve Night Train next Thanksgiving.

    44. Publicly investigate just how slowly you can make a "croaking" noise.

    45. Honk and wave to strangers.

    46. Dress only in clothes colored Hunters Orange.

    47. Change channels five minutes before the end of every show.

    48. Tape pieces of "Sweating to the Oldies" over climactic parts of rental movies.

    49. Wear your pants backwards.

    50. Decline to be seated at a restaurant, and simply eat their complimentary mints by the cash register.

    51. Begin all your sentences with "ooh la la!"

    52. ONLY TYPE IN UPPERCASE.

    53. only type in lowercase.

    54. dont use any punctuation either

    55. Buy a large quantity of orange traffic cones and reroute whole streets.

    56. Pay for your dinner with pennies.

    57. Tie jingle bells to all your clothes.

    58. Repeat everything someone says, as a question.

    59. Write "X – BURIED TREASURE" in random spots on all of someone’s roadmaps.

    60. Inform everyone you meet of your personal Kennedy assassination/UFO/ O.J Simpson conspiracy theories.

    61. Repeat the following conversation a dozen times: "Do you hear that?" "What?" "Never mind, its gone now."

    62. Light road flares on a birthday cake.

    63. Wander around a restaurant, asking other diners for their parsley.

    64. Leave tips in Bolivian currency.

    65. Demand that everyone address you as "Conquistador."

    66. At the laundromat, use one dryer for each of your socks.

    67. When Christmas caroling, sing "Jingle Bells, Batman smells" until physically restrained.

    68. Wear a cape that says "Magnificent One."

    69. As much as possible, skip rather than walk.

    70. Stand over someone’s shoulder, mumbling, as they read.

    71. Pretend your computer’s mouse is a CB radio, and talk to it.

    72. Try playing the William Tell Overture by tapping on the bottom of your chin. When nearly done, announce "no, wait, I messed it up," and repeat.

    73. Drive half a block.

    74. Inform others that they exist only in your imagination.

    75. Ask people what gender they are.

    76. Lick the filling out of all the Oreos, and place the cookie parts back.

    77. Cultivate a Norwegian accent. If Norwegian, affect a Southern drawl.

    78. Routinely handcuff yourself to furniture, informing the curious that you don’t want to fall off "in case the big one comes".

    79. Deliberately hum songs that will remain lodged in co-workers brains, such as "Feliz Navidad", the Archies "Sugar" or the Mr. Rogers theme song.

    80. While making presentations, occasionally bob your head. like a parakeet.

    81. Lie obviously about trivial things such as the time of day.

    82. Leave your Christmas lights up and lit until September.

    83. Change your name to "AaJohn Aaaaasmith" for the great glory of being first in the phone book. Claim it’s a Hawaiian name, and demand that people pronounce each "a."

    84. Sit in your front yard pointing a hair dryer at passing cars to see if they slow down.

    85. Chew on pens that you’ve borrowed.

    86. Wear a LOT of cologne.

    87. Listen to 33rpm records at 45rpm speed, and claim the faster speed is necessary because of your "superior mental processing."

    88. Sing along at the opera.

    89. Mow your lawn with scissors.

    90. At a golf tournament, chant "swing-batabatabata-suhWING-

    batter!"

    91. Ask the waitress for an extra seat for your "imaginary friend."

    92. Go to a poetry recital and ask why each poem doesn’t rhyme.

    93. Ask your co-workers mysterious questions, and then scribble their answers in a notebook. Mutter something about "psychological profiles."

    94. Stare at static on the TV and claim you can see a "magic picture."

    95. Select the same song on the jukebox fifty times.

    96. Never make eye contact.

    97. Never break eye contact.

    98. Construct elaborate "crop circles" in your front lawn.

    99. Construct your own pretend "tricorder," and "scan" people with it, announcing the results.

    100. Make appointments for the 31st of September.

    101. Invite lots of people to other people’s parties.

  • Anger Management

    When you occasionally have a really bad day, and you just need to take it out on someone, don’t take it out on someone you know, take it out on someone you don’t know, but you know deserves it.

    I was sitting at my desk when I remembered a phone call I’d forgotten to make.

    I found the number and dialed it.

    A man answered, saying ‘Hello.’

    I politely said, ‘This is Chris. Could I please speak with Robyn?’

    Suddenly a manic voice yelled out in my ear ‘Get the right fucking number!’ And the phone was slammed down on me.

    I couldn’t believe that anyone could be so rude.

    When I tracked down Robyn’s correct number to call her, I found that I had accidentally transposed the last two digits.

    After hanging up with her, I decided to call the ‘wrong’ number again.

    When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled ‘You’re an asshole!’ And hung up.

    I wrote his number down with the word ‘asshole’ next to it, And put it in my desk drawer.

    Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills or had a really bad day, I’d call him up and yell, ‘You’re an asshole!’

    It always cheered me up.

    When Caller ID was introduced, I thought my therapeutic ‘asshole’ calling would have to stop.

    So, I called his number and said, ‘Hi, this is John Smith from the telephone company. I’m calling to see if you’re familiar with our Caller ID Program?’

    He yelled ‘NO!’ And slammed down the phone.

    I quickly called him back and said, ‘That’s because you’re an asshole!’ And hung up.

    One day I was at the store, getting ready to pull into a parking spot.

    Some guy in a black BMW cut me off and pulled into the spot I had patiently waited for.

    I hit the horn and yelled that I’d been waiting for that spot, but the idiot ignored me.

    I noticed a ‘For Sale’ sign in his back window, so I wrote down his number.

    A couple of days later, right after calling the first asshole (I had his number on speed dial) I thought that I’d better call the BMW asshole, too.

    I said, ‘Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?’

    He said, ‘Yes, it is.’

    I then asked, ‘Can you tell me where I can see it?’

    He said, ‘Yes, I live at  34 Oaktree Blvd., in Pittsburgh. It’s a yellow ranch style house And the car’s parked right out in front.’

    I asked, ‘What’s your name?’

    He said, ‘My name is Don O’Reilly.’

    I asked, ‘When’s a good time to catch you, Don?’

    He said, ‘I’m home every evening after five.’

    I said, ‘Listen, Don, can I tell you something?’

    He said, ‘Yes?’

    I said, ‘Don, you’re an asshole!’

    Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too.

    Now, when I had a problem, I had two assholes to call.

    Then I came up with an idea…

    I called asshole #1.

    He said, ‘Hello’

    I said, ‘You’re an asshole!’ (But I didn’t hang up.)

    He asked, ‘Are you still there?’

    I said, ‘Yeah!’

    He screamed, ‘Stop calling me’

    I said, ‘Make me.’

    He asked, ‘Who are you?’

    I said, ‘My name is Don O’Reilly.’

    He said, ‘Yeah? Where do you live?’

    I said, ‘Asshole, I live at 34 Oaktree Blvd., in Pittsburgh, a yellow ranch style home and I have a black Beamer parked in front.’

    He said, ‘I’m coming over right now, Don. And you had better start saying your prayers.’

    I said, ‘Yeah, like I’m really scared, asshole,’ and hung up.

    Then I called Asshole #2.

    He said, ‘Hello?’

    I said, ‘Hello, asshole,’

    He yelled, ‘If I ever find out who you are…’

    I said, ‘You’ll what?’

    He exclaimed, ‘I’ll kick your ass’

    I answered, ‘Well, asshole, here’s your chance. I’m coming over right now.’

    Then I hung up and immediately called the police, saying that I was on my way over to 34 Oaktree Blvd, in Pittsburgh, to kill my gay lover.

    Then I called Channel 7 News about the gang war going down in Oaktree Blvd in Pittsburgh.

    I quickly got into my car and headed over to Pittsburgh.

    I got there just in time to watch two assholes beating the crap out of each other in front of six cop cars, an overhead news helicopter and surrounded by a news crew.

    NOW I feel much better.

    Anger management really does work.

  • Analogies and Metaphors

    Every year, English teachers from across the country can submit their collections of actual analogies and metaphors found in high school essays. These excerpts are published each year to the amusement of teachers across the country. Here are last year’s winners.

    Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.

    His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.

    He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.

    She grew on him like she was a colony of E. Coli, and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.

    She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.

    Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

    He was as tall as a six-foot, three-inch tree.

    The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife’s infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM machine.

    The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn’t.

    McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.

    From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you’re on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.

    Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.

    Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.

    John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.

    He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant, and she was the East River.

    Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.

    The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.

    The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.

    He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.

    The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.

    It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools.

    He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.

  • Analalogies and Metaphors in High School Essays

    Every year, English teachers from across the country can submit their collections of actual analogies and metaphors found in high school essays. These excerpts are published each year to the amusement of teachers across the country. Here are last year’s winners.

    Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.

    His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.

    He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.

    She grew on him like she was a colony of E. Coli, and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.

    She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.

    Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

    He was as tall as a six-foot, three-inch tree.

    The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife’s infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM machine.

    The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn’t.

    McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.

    From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you’re on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.

    Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.

    Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.

    John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.

    He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant, and she was the East River.

    Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.

    The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.

    The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.

    He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.

    The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.

    It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools.

    He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.

  • Calling In Sick

    Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable.

    No matter how legitimate my excuse, I always get the feeling that my boss thinks I’m lying.

    On one recent occasion, I had a valid reason but lied anyway, because the truth was just too darned humiliating.

    I simply mentioned that I had sustained a head injury, and I hoped I would feel up to coming in the next day.

    By then, I reasoned, I could think up a doozy to explain the bandage on the top of my head.

    The accident occurred mainly because I had given in to my wife’s wishes to adopt a cute little kitty.

    Initially, the new acquisition was no problem.

    Then one morning, I was taking my shower after breakfast when I heard my wife, Deb, call out to me from the kitchen.

    "Honey! The garbage disposal is dead again. Please come reset it."

    "You know where the button is," I protested through the shower pitter-patter and steam. "Reset it yourself!"

    "But I’m scared!" she persisted. "What if it starts going and sucks me in?" There was a meaningful pause and then, "C’mon, it’ll only take you a second." So out I came, dripping wet and butt naked, hoping that my silent outraged nudity would make a statement about how I perceived her behavior as extremely cowardly. Sighing loudly, I squatted down and stuck my head under the sink to find the button.

    It is the last action I remember performing.

    It struck without warning, and without any respect to my circumstances.

    No, it wasn’t the hexed disposal, drawing me into its gnashing metal teeth.

    It was our new kitty, who discovered the fascinating dangling objects she spied hanging between my legs.

    She had been poised around the corner and stalked me as I reached under the sink.

    And, at the precise moment when I was most vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I unwittingly offered and snagged them with her needle-like claws.

    I lost all rational thought to control orderly bodily movements, blindly rising at a violent rate of speed, with the full weight of a kitten hanging from my masculine region.

    Wild animals are sometimes faced with a "fight or flight" syndrome.

    Men, in this predicament, choose only the "flight" option.

    I know this from experience.

    I was fleeing straight up into the air when the sink and cabinet bluntly and forcefully impeded my ascent. The impact knocked me out cold.

    When I awoke, my wife and the paramedics stood over me.

    Now there are not many things in this life worse than finding oneself lying on the kitchen floor butt naked in front of a group of "been-there, done-that" paramedics.

    Even worse, having been fully briefed by my wife, the paramedics were all snorting loudly as they tried to conduct their work, all the while trying to suppress their hysterical laughter……and not succeeding.

    Somehow I lived through it all.

    A few days later I finally made it back in to the office, where colleagues tried to coax an explanation out of me about my head injury.

    I kept silent, claiming it was too painful to talk about, which it was. "What’s the matter?" They all asked, "Cat got your tongue?"

    If they only knew!

    Why is it that only the women laugh at this?

  • Thw Windshields of Airliners

    Scientists at NASA built a gun specifically to launch standard 4 pound dead chickens at the windshields of airliners, military jets and the space shuttle, all traveling at maximum velocity. The idea is to simulate the frequent incidents of collisions with airborne fowl to test the strength of the windshields.

    British engineers heard about the gun and were eager to test it on the windshields of their new high speed trains.  Arrangements were made, and a gun was sent to the British engineers.

    When the gun was fired, the engineers stood shocked as the chicken hurled out of the barrel, crashed into the shatterproof  shield, smashed it to smithereens, blasted through the control  console, snapped the engineer’s back-rest in two, and embedded itself in the back wall of the cabin, like an arrow shot from a bow.

    The horrified Brits sent NASA the disastrous results of the experiment, along with the designs of the windshield and begged the US scientists for suggestions.

    You’re gonna love this . .. …

    NASA responded with a one-line memo:

    "Defrost the chicken."

  • The College Freshman

    A self-important college freshman attending a recent football game took it upon himself to explain to a senior citizen sitting next to him why it was impossible for the older generation to understand his generation.

    ‘You grew up in a different world, actually an almost primitive one’, the student said, loud enough for many of those nearby to hear. ‘The young people of today grew up with television, jet planes, space travel, man walking on the moon. Our space probes have visited Mars. We have nuclear energy, ships and electric and hydrogen cars, cell phones, computers with light-speed processing… and more.’

    After a brief silence, the senior citizen responded as follows:

    ‘You’re right, son. We didn’t have those things when we were young… so we invented them. Now, you arrogant little shit, what are you doing for the next generation?’
    The applause was amazing…….

  • Little Matt and the Bike

    For his birthday, Little Matt asked for a 10-speed bicycle.
    His father said, "Son, we’d give you one, but the mortgage on this house is $300,000 and your mother just lost her job. There’s no way we can afford it."

    The next day the father saw Little Matt heading out the front door with a suitcase.
    So he asked, "Son, where are you going?"

    Little Matt told him, "I was walking past your room last night and I heard you tell mum you were pulling out. Then I heard her tell you to wait because she was coming too. Well, I’ll be damned if I’m staying here by myself with a $300,000 mortgage and no fucking bike!"

  • The Science of Santa

    1. No known species of reindeer can fly. BUT there are 300,000 species of living organisms yet to be classified, and while most of these are insects and germs, this does not COMPLETELY rule out flying reindeer, which only Santa has ever seen.
    2. There are 2 billion children (persons under 18) in the world. BUT because Santa doesn’t (appear to) handle the Muslim, Hindu, Jewish, and Buddhist children, that reduces the workload to 15% of the total — 378 million according to Population Reference Bureau. At an average (census) rate of 3.5 children per household, that’s 91.8 million homes. One presumes there’s at least one good child in each.
    3. Santa has 31 hours of Christmas to work with, thanks to the different time zones and the rotation of the earth, assuming he travels east to west (which seems logical). This works out to 822.6 visits per second. This is to say that for each Christian household with good children, Santa has 1/1000th of a second to park, hop out of the sleigh, jump down the chimney, fill the stockings, distribute the remaining presents under the tree, eat whatever snacks have been left, get back up the chimney, get back into the sleigh and move on to the next house. Assuming that each of these 91.8 million stops are evenly distributed around the earth (which, of course, we know to be false but for the purposes of our calculations we will accept), we are now talking about .78 miles per household, a total trip of 75-1/2 million miles, not counting stops to do what most of us must do at least once every 31 hours, plus feeding, etc. This means that Santa’s sleigh is moving at 650 miles per second, 3,000 times the speed of sound. For purposes of comparison, the fastest man-made vehicle on earth, the Ulysses space probe, moves at a poky 27.4 miles per second — a conventional reindeer can run, tops, 15 miles per hour.
    4. The payload on the sleigh adds another interesting element. Assuming that each child gets nothing more than a medium-sized Lego set (2 pounds), the sleigh is carrying 321,300 tons, not counting Santa, who is invariably described as overweight. On land, conventional reindeer can pull no more than 300 pounds. Even granting that "flying reindeer" (see point #1) could pull TEN TIMES the normal amount, we cannot do the job with eight, or even nine. We need 214,200 reindeer. This increases the payload — not even counting the weight of the sleigh — to 353,430 tons. Again, for comparison — this is four times the weight of Elizabeth Taylor.
    5. 353,000 tons travelling at 650 miles per second creates enormous air resistance — this will heat the reindeer up in the same fashion as spacecrafts re-entering the earth’s atmosphere. The lead pair of reindeer will absorb 14.3 QUINTILLION joules of energy. Per second. Each. In short, they will burst into flame almost instantaneously, exposing the reindeer behind them, and create deafening sonic booms in their wake. The entire reindeer team will be vaporized within 4.26 thousandths of a second. Santa, meanwhile, will be subjected to centrifugal forces 17,500.06 times greater than gravity. A 250-pound Santa (which seems ludicrously slim) would be pinned to the back of his sleigh by 4,315,015 pounds of force.

    In conclusion: If Santa ever DID deliver presents on Christmas Eve, he’s dead now.