Quoted:
Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,
Every creature was dead, including the mouse.
The stockings were booby-trapped, well and with care,
To blow Santa to bits when he arrived there.

The children lie bloody, dead in their beds.
With flies and rats chewing on their heads.
While I, dressed in black, AR-15 in hand,
Ready to kill Santa when in his sled he did land.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter.
I shot the carolers in their heads and watched them splatter.
Under cover of darkness, I gazed through my NV scope.
Was Santa out there?  My trigger finger quivered with hope.

It was then that I saw him on his cherry-red sled.
Ooohhh, how I wanted that fat slob dead…
As he flew through the air I took aim at a deer.
I squeezed on the trigger and blew off an ear.

“On Donner! On Blitzen!” Santa shouted in fright.
I wasted old Blitzen in dawn’s early light.
A tactical mag change, I’m hot on the gun,
I picked off more reindeer, damn this was fun.

Smoke trailed from the sled as I blew off Rudolf’s nose.
Fat 'ol Santa crash landed by my garden hose.
Then he dove through a window, getting into my house.
I cursed as I shot; I missed the fat louse!

I stalked through the house, snickering with glee,
Thinking of all the venison I was getting for free.
Then I thought of the poor kids, who would not get the toys in his sack.
I laughed out loud as I mounted my attack.

For when I was a boy I learned the truth from my mommy.
Fat old Santa is a despicable commie.
Dressed in commie red, he corrupts the kids,
Trespassing and littering, and raiding the fridge.

I stopped in a shadow and dropped into a crouch.
There was the fat louse, lying on my couch.
The smoke from his pipe circled his head like a wreath.
Tobacco spittle dribbling from his coffee stained teeth.

His furry red outfit was now grimy and black.
I stepped up closer and slung the AR across my back.
He had crumbs in his beard and fear in his eyes.
His false mythical status due to parents who lie.

I brandished a blade and slashed the nose off his face.
Then I growled, “Eat it! And don’t forget to say grace!”
He grunted to his feet, desperate to stay alive.
I paddled my holster and out came my .45.

I found my front sight and I shot him in the ass.
He fell off the porch, into a heap on the grass.
He crawled to his sled, urged his reindeer to flight.
I shouldered the AR and put him in my sight.

With a jingle of bells, up went the sled.
With a squeeze on the trigger, off went his head.
Fresh snow soon covered all the carnage in pure white,
And I exclaimed “A Bloody Christmas To All, And To All A Good Night!”

Quoted:
GD, sometimes it just doesn't make never makes sense.

Quoted:
1) That is not funny, and kind of creepy.
2) Given this is AR15.com, the creepiness is raised to the 87th power.

I highly recommend nuking the entire thread from orbit. It's the only way to be sure.

Quoted:
Somebody delete this please. Terrible.

Quoted:
Time to get those $89 BCG's and cheap ass lowers in the mail.

Somebody may be making the news soon.