Various thoughts on current events with an emphasis on politics, legal issues, sports, and whatever is on my mind. Emails can be sent to firstname.lastname@example.org; please put "blog comments" in the subject line.
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the apartment
Not a creature was stirring, so out I went.
The stockings were hung by the window with care,
In hopes that they would soon be dry ... they were my best pair.
The cat was nestled all snug in his spot,
While visions of Fancy Feast danced in his head ... lots.
And I in my 'kerchief (really my cap),
Had soon had just settled my brain for a short winter's nap.
When out on the fire escape there arose such a clatter,
Yogee sprang from his bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window he flew like a flash,
And pushed open the blinds (sorry, no sash!).
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Was quite a sight, even with the mundane urban view below.
When, what to his wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
He knew in a moment it must be good old Nick.
To feed him ... it was about time he came!
But, instead he whistled, shouted ... it was so lame!
"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the roof! To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
[That's a weird simile, I cannot lie.]
So up to the building the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Stuff, and St Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, Yogee heard on the roof,
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As Yogee rose from his slumber,
Down he came ... that St. Nick is a bit of a bumbler.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with dust and soot.
A bundle of Stuff he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.
His eyes ... oh to be truthful, the cat cared not very!
Only one thing likely to make him merry!
Not his droll little mouth drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin as white as snow.
He wanted some Fancy Feast,
chicken, turkey, seafood, anything to satisfy the little beast.
When would he come in to fill his little belly?
He shook and meowed, it was louder than a telly.
Yogee ... not very jolly was he,
He was annoyed, wanting to eat ... yes, he.
With a wink of his eye and a push of the door,
Soon St. Nick gave him to know he need not wait any more.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all his bowls, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
Giving a nod, cleaned the litter box so it smelled like a rose!
All done, all cleaned up ... he sprang out back to his sleigh,
to his team and gave a whistle ... all was okay.
But, he also texted me a message, 'ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"