Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Sega-16
Not a troll was stirring, not even the tweens.
The rep-thanks were hung on our walls with care,
In hopes that talk of new games soon would be there.
Babes born after the 16-bit wars all snug in their beds,
While visions of Mario 64 danced in their heads.
And Melf in his robes of academe, and Baloo in his cargo-plane,
Had just settled the ban hammer on someone again.
When out in Off Topic there arose such a clatter,
I refreshed the page to see what was the matter.
Away from Facebook I arose like a star,
Tore open the "new posts" and threw up the scroll bar.
The moon on the breast of a new babe pic,
Gave the lustre of mid-day to links I had clicked.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But Joe's Flying Spaghetti Monster and a six-pack of beer.
With a glass of scotch, as it so happens,
I knew in a moment it must be Christopher Hitchens.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them all names!
"Now Dolts! now, Idiots! now, Morons and Fools!
On, Hypocrites! On, Jerks! on, on Chowderheads and Tools!
To the top of the page! to the top of the wall!
Now rail away! Type away! Misquote away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with a new fact, with their Keyboards they vie.
So up to the forum top with hotkeys they flew,
With magazine scans, and sales figures too.
And then, in a twinkling, I saw at the top,
The prancing and pawing of a contrarian fop.
As I drew out my hands, and was clicking around,
The first secret-santa post I found.
He was dressed all in silk jammies, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all shiny, but beside him he put,
A mail carrier beaten box, which he opened with a tack,
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 neck kinda hairy!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
As he gazed in his box his face was aglow.
The stump of a joint 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,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
The shaky camera he held to his head,
Soon gave me to know the point of the thread.
He spoke too much and went straight to explain,
And filled my eyes with what he had gained.
And laying his fingers on what he now owned,
And giving a nod, out of the box they arose!
As others then posted I gave out a sigh,
and opened my boxes to see what I'd find.
But to all you heathens and crazies and pals,
"Happy Christmas to all, or to each his own rationale!"