sutomcat
No recent Cali or Iggy awards; Mr Irrelevant
- Joined
- Aug 15, 2011
- Messages
- 25,349
- Like
- 109,630
Apologies to Clement Clarke Moore
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the site
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mite;
The posts were tacked by the admins with care,
In hopes that The Old Scout soon would be there;
The lurkers were nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of Orlando danced in their heads;
And Tom E in his 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,
When out In Off Topic there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to my laptop I flew like a flash,
Tore open the screen and engaged super cache.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave a lustre of midday to my screen aglow,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But an approval request from a poster’s premiere,
With a handle so corny and full of blarney,
I knew in a moment that he must be Arnie.
More rapid than eagles his pending posts came,
And with PMs relentless, he called out by name:
"Now, Dasher! now, Cherie, now Millhouse and Grotto!
On, Jarhead! on, Toga! on, TrueBlue and Otto!
To the top of the board! to daily articles for football!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with a temp ban; the posters will cry;
So To Syracuse.com, the mouth breathers they flew
With their heads full of hate, and St. Dougie too—
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney the Old Scout came with a bound.
He was dressed In a trench coat, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of columns he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the skin on his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly
He took off his coat; it was worn and smelled funny.
He sat and he sighed, then his face turned quite sunny.
He was weary but happy, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Headed me a column; said sorry; I just lurk,
So I sat down and read one, and i saw right away;
The Old Scout was watching, the team’s every play.
He professed an affection for Dino so strong,
It exceeded his love, for ‘Ole Ben so headstrong;
‘The corner’s been turned, and the offense is humming;
DeVito is money, and an NC is coming’.
Then I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight—
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the site
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mite;
The posts were tacked by the admins with care,
In hopes that The Old Scout soon would be there;
The lurkers were nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of Orlando danced in their heads;
And Tom E in his 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,
When out In Off Topic there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to my laptop I flew like a flash,
Tore open the screen and engaged super cache.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave a lustre of midday to my screen aglow,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But an approval request from a poster’s premiere,
With a handle so corny and full of blarney,
I knew in a moment that he must be Arnie.
More rapid than eagles his pending posts came,
And with PMs relentless, he called out by name:
"Now, Dasher! now, Cherie, now Millhouse and Grotto!
On, Jarhead! on, Toga! on, TrueBlue and Otto!
To the top of the board! to daily articles for football!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with a temp ban; the posters will cry;
So To Syracuse.com, the mouth breathers they flew
With their heads full of hate, and St. Dougie too—
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney the Old Scout came with a bound.
He was dressed In a trench coat, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of columns he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the skin on his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly
He took off his coat; it was worn and smelled funny.
He sat and he sighed, then his face turned quite sunny.
He was weary but happy, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Headed me a column; said sorry; I just lurk,
So I sat down and read one, and i saw right away;
The Old Scout was watching, the team’s every play.
He professed an affection for Dino so strong,
It exceeded his love, for ‘Ole Ben so headstrong;
‘The corner’s been turned, and the offense is humming;
DeVito is money, and an NC is coming’.
Then I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight—
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”
