decisive thoughts for precise living
From your favorite impresario:With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore.‘Twas the night before Christmas, in Bill Bogaard’s houseNot a statement was stirring, not even to denounce;The Chinese float in the Rose Parade is there,And laughs at that whole damn thing Heritage Square;The council was nestled all snug in their vaults,While excuses were thrown around how nothing’s their faults;Steve Haderlein in no shirt, McAustin will watch,Sid Tyler settles down with a fist and a Scotch,When out on the lawn there arrived Chris Holden,Gordo sprang from the chicken to see our hero golden.Away from her homework went Jacque from the computer,Steve Madison was a former federal prosecutor.Chris Holden on the lawn with a ribbon and bowGave the presents to each one with photographers in tow,When, what to their wondering eyes should appear,But a Maserati, and eight tiny reindeer,With a little old driver who wasn’t a dickWhen will I give up this Madison schtick?More rapid than Measure A not passing they came,And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;“Now, Truitt! Lusvardi! Anonymous! and Proctor!On, Coleman! Centinel! McPherson and Wilson!And I heard him exclaim, as they’re no longer here“Merry Christmas to all in the wild blogosphere.”- AP
From your favorite impresario:
ReplyDeleteWith apologies to Clement Clarke Moore.
‘Twas the night before Christmas, in Bill Bogaard’s house
Not a statement was stirring, not even to denounce;
The Chinese float in the Rose Parade is there,
And laughs at that whole damn thing Heritage Square;
The council was nestled all snug in their vaults,
While excuses were thrown around how nothing’s their faults;
Steve Haderlein in no shirt, McAustin will watch,
Sid Tyler settles down with a fist and a Scotch,
When out on the lawn there arrived Chris Holden,
Gordo sprang from the chicken to see our hero golden.
Away from her homework went Jacque from the computer,
Steve Madison was a former federal prosecutor.
Chris Holden on the lawn with a ribbon and bow
Gave the presents to each one with photographers in tow,
When, what to their wondering eyes should appear,
But a Maserati, and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver who wasn’t a dick
When will I give up this Madison schtick?
More rapid than Measure A not passing they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
“Now, Truitt! Lusvardi! Anonymous! and Proctor!
On, Coleman! Centinel! McPherson and Wilson!
And I heard him exclaim, as they’re no longer here
“Merry Christmas to all in the wild blogosphere.”
- AP