Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Twas the Night Before Christmas, Mass Hysteria Edition


'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the blog

Only GHABB,Y was stirring, laying a shit log,

Red Stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that Teixeira (SHIT!) soon would be there;


The readers were passed out and drunk in their beds,

While visions of championships danced in their heads;

Hazel, dressed a Superfan, and Smarty in URI cap,

Tried to feed GHABB,Y sugar, and wake DaveR from his nap.

Sh!tshow called his bookie, but had run out of cash,

And Raquel took in Christmas by smoking some hash.


When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

We, drunk and stoned, stumbled to see what was the matter.

The moon on the breast of some more goddamned snow

Gave the lustre of Foxboro to objects below.

When, what to our wondering eyes should we see,

But a miniature Edsel, and eight minorities.

With a little old driver, so racist and naughty,

We knew in a moment it must be Foxtrotty.


More rapid than eagles his Freed-Men they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, Papist! now, Spaniard! now, Free Negro Ortiz!

On, Hebrite! On Irish! On Hispano-Portugee!

To the right field porch and the left field wall!

You damnable freed-men must smash the base-ball!"


Like Rondo on the court these Freed-Men did fly,

And with the crack of a whip, they took to the sky,

So up to the house-top, like Cassel’s passes they flew,

With a sleigh full of
Irish-Abusers, and Messr. Foxtrotty too.


And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

The stomping and dragging of each minority hoof.

With
Irish-Abuser in hand, he then turned around,

And down the chimney Messr. Foxtrotty came with a bound.


He was dressed fine linens, from head to his shoe,

Wearing a formal wool suit, designed by a Jew;

A bundle of presents he had flung on his back,

And he looked strong of constitution, unlike the haemophiliac.


His eyes -- how they twinkled! his ascot how merry!

His cheeks were not jaundiced, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was pursed at the lips,

And his handlebar mustache, so sharp at each tip;

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 his knuckles were ruddy,

That bled when he would beat an Irishman bloody.


Worthington then looked upon us, that son of a gun,

And turned his ire to us editors, drunken one by drunken one.

He first looked to Raquel, called her a painted whore,

But she did not hear him, as she checked the B’s score;

His ire soon met Smarty, who was on the toilet bootin’,

Though his vomit may have actually come from eating some gluten;

Soon Sh!tShow and DaveR were next in his round,

But the absentee editors simply could not be found;

He next turned to GHABB,Y but had little luck,

Further emotionally damaging that miserable diabetic fuck;

He finally turned upon Hazel, and insulted Matt Ryan,

And at the mention of an Eagle, HZMLS started cryin’.


His mission finally accomplished, he laid a finger by his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his minorities gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all, unless you’re a Hebrite."

7 comments:

DALE! said...

fucking hilarious - when do we get the one hour televised musical?

Worthington P. Foxtrotty said...

Slanderous libel! Perfidity! I sense the influence of a cowardly Belgian at work!

If you were not sorely afflicted with the Mellitus form of the di-aebaetaeus, sir, I would give you a hearty caning!

Pepster said...

I beg to differ with the proper Mr. Foxtrotty, this was brilliant.

Pepster said...

Oh yeah, and Merry Christmas to all!

Raquel said...

Bestest. Ever.

Boatdrinks said...

Belated, but true holiday happiness to everybody.
Awesome poem!

Rocco said...

Hey, I'm finally sober enough to read again. Well done!