T’was the Night Before Christmas (TBP Version)

14 comments

Posted on 24th December 2010 by Reverse Engineer in Economy

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T’was the night before Christmas, when here on TBP           

Not a poster was stirring, not even DP             

The threads were quiet and no Napalm was thrown               

Waiting for SSSt Nick to cast the first Stone                  

                  

The Liberals were all asleep in their beds          

While visions of entitlements danced in their heads                 

Conservatives snuggled next to piles of Gold         

Reviewing their contracts to Satan they Sold           

                  

When here on my laptop arose a Blue Screen               

and Zero Hedge was nowhere to be Seen                   

I worried my laptop had fatally crashed

No longer could I Smokey so endlessly Bash :-(

 

The Swamps of NJ were covered with Snow

All were Stuck in NJ with nowhere to Go

when what to his McMansion magically appeared

but 8 Newark Gangbangers full of Good Cheer

 

The 30 Blocks of Squalor were frozen in Ice

JimQ had never seen it so Nice

The People of Walmart charged up lots of stuff

On Sale Chinese Junk there is never enough!

 

 “Now Jamie, now Lloyd! Now Timmy!, now Ben!

On Soros! On Rodgers! On, on Xie Xuren!

To the Top of the Market, the Dow to the Moon

Then Dash away! Dash away! Dash away soon!

 

As Toilet Paper down the sewer is Flushed

 also so does the Economy get Crushed

So up to the top of the pile of Munis they go

Buying the debt in an unstoppable flow.

 

And then in a twinkling, I heard on the net

Karl Denninger go and make a Socialist Bet

Kucinich and Paul came from the Left and the Right

To attack the Fed in a bright fire fight

 

Bernie Sanders came with piss jar in hand

To filibuster for hours with the Socialist stand

Merkel showed female Krauts have a Prick

While selling her Beemers to Jolly St. Nick

 

Trichet’s eyes how they Twinkled, his Dimples so Merry

As children were starving from Dublin to Derry

Frog Pensioners were steeped in a terrible mess

How Sarkozy could fund them St Nick had no guess

 

In Korea artillery lit up the night sky

while in Afghanistan Towel Heads said let’s do or let’s die

Drone Aircraft patroled over towns far and wide

provoking Bombers with dynamite to commit Suicide

 

Walmart Shoppers waddled in so Jolly and Plump

Buying junk for Dollars both on the way to the Dump

The Euro slipped ever closer to the Edge

while Piglets pissed their pants all over Zero Hedge

 

Assange leaked not a word on this night

All Wikileaks data was kept locked up tight

PIIGS were Flying and Black Swans on the Wing

While J6P waited for the Fat Lady to Sing

 

RE sprang to his Keyboard, to write some more Doom

Preaching Armageddon to all in the room

But I heard him exclaim as he logged out from sight

“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a Good Night.

RE

14 Comments
  1. Administrator says:

    RE

    Fabulous!!! And I mean that.

    I hope you have a pleasant Christmas.

    We disagree on details, but the direction is not in doubt.

    24th December 2010 at 7:27 am

  2. Punk in Drublic says:

    Very funny. Nice job RE.
    I’m sure LLPOH will be a little dismayed that he didn’t make it in, but his name is hard to rhyme.

    24th December 2010 at 8:02 am

  3. dirtypierat says:

    Outstanding post, hilarious!

    24th December 2010 at 8:29 am

  4. MuckAbout says:

    RE: Just great… I think you hit almost every nail on the head!

    24th December 2010 at 10:30 am

  5. Goldie says:

    good job!

    24th December 2010 at 10:44 am

  6. newsjunkie says:

    Who knew that Reverse Engineer could be
    The Poet Laureate of TBP
    And in 10,000 words or less
    Summed up the state of our world and its mess.

    Great job, Merry Christmas!

    24th December 2010 at 12:06 pm

  7. StuckInNJ says:

    Quick drop by before heading out to travel.

    Very, very good. RE — most talented ex-trucker in the known universe. Creative and funny. That takes talent.

    However, this is quite a departure from your 10 thousand word high-browed stuff.

    Found this on the net. I swear YOU wrote this.

    Happy Festivus, RE!

    ==================================

    ‘Twas The Night Before Christmas

    ‘Twas the nocturnal segment of the diurnal period preceding the
    annual Yuletide celebration, and throughout our place of residence,
    kinetic activity was not in evidence among the possessors of this
    potential, including that species of domestic rodent known as Mus
    musculus. Hosiery was meticulously suspended from the forward edge of the
    wood burning caloric apparatus, pursuant to our anticipatory pleasure
    regarding an imminent visitation from an eccentric philanthropist among
    whose folkloric appellations is the honorific title of St. Nicholas.

    The prepubescent siblings, comfortably ensconced in their respective
    accommodations of repose, were experiencing subconscious visual
    hallucinations of variegated fruit confections moving rhythmically through
    their cerebrums. My conjugal partner and I, attired in our nocturnal head
    coverings, were about to take slumberous advantage of the hibernal darkness
    when upon the avenaceous exterior portion of the grounds there ascended
    such a cacophony of dissonance that I felt compelled to arise with alacrity
    from my place of repose for the purpose of ascertaining the precise source
    thereof.

    Hastening to the casement, I forthwith opened the barriers sealing
    this fenestration, noting thereupon that the lunar brilliance
    without, reflected as it was on the surface of a recent crystalline
    precipitation, might be said to rival that of the solar meridian
    itself – thus permitting my incredulous optical sensory organs to
    behold a miniature airborne runnered conveyance drawn by eight
    diminutive specimens of the genus Rangifer, piloted by a minuscule,
    aged chauffeur so ebullient and nimble that it became instantly
    apparent to me that he was indeed our anticipated caller. With his
    ungulate motive power travelling at what may possibly have been more
    vertiginous velocity than patriotic alar predators, he vociferated
    loudly, expelled breath musically through contracted labia, and
    addressed each of the octet by his or her respective cognomen – “Now
    Dasher, now Dancer…” et al. – guiding them to the uppermost exterior
    level of our abode, through which structure I could readily distinguish the
    concatenations of each of the 32 cloven pedal extremities.

    As I retracted my cranium from its erstwhile location, and was performing a
    180-degree pivot, our distinguished visitant achieved – with utmost
    celerity and via a downward leap – entry by way of the smoke passage. He
    was clad entirely in animal pelts soiled by the ebony residue from
    oxidations of carboniferous fuels which had accumulated on the walls
    thereof. His resemblance to a street vendor I attributed largely to the
    plethora of assorted playthings which he bore dorsally in a commodious
    cloth receptacle.

    His orbs were scintillant with reflected luminosity, while his submaxillary
    dermal indentations gave every evidence of engaging amiability. The
    capillaries of his malar regions and nasal appurtenance were engorged with
    blood which suffused the subcutaneous layers, the former approximating the
    coloration of Albion’s floral emblem, the latter that of the Prunus avium,
    or sweet cherry. His amusing sub- and supralabials resembled nothing so
    much as a common loop knot, and their ambient hirsute facial adornment
    appeared like small, tabular and columnar crystals of frozen water.

    Clenched firmly between his incisors was a smoking piece whose grey
    fumes, forming a tenuous ellipse about his occiput, were suggestive
    of a decorative seasonal circlet of holly. His visage was wider than it was
    high, and when he waxed audibly mirthful, his corpulent abdominal region
    undulated in the manner of impectinated fruit syrup in a hemispherical
    container. He was, in short, neither more nor less than an obese, jocund,
    multigenarian gnome, the optical perception of whom rendered me visibly
    frolicsome despite every effort to refrain from so being. By rapidly
    lowering and then elevating one eyelid and rotating his head slightly to
    one side, he indicated that trepidation on my part was groundless.

    Without utterance and with dispatch, he commenced filling the
    aforementioned appended hosiery with various of the aforementioned
    articles of merchandise extracted from his aforementioned previously
    dorsally transported cloth receptacle. Upon completion of this task,
    he executed an abrupt about-face, placed a single manual digit in
    lateral juxtaposition to his olfactory organ, inclined his cranium
    forward in a gesture of leave-taking, and forthwith effected his
    egress by renegotiating (in reverse) the smoke passage. He then
    propelled himself in a short vector onto his conveyance, directed a
    musical expulsion of air through his contracted oral sphincter to the
    antlered quadrupeds of burden, and proceeded to soar aloft in a
    movement hitherto observable chiefly among the seed-bearing portions
    of a common weed. But I overheard his parting exclamation, audible
    immediately prior to his vehiculation beyond the limits of
    visibility: “Ecstatic Yuletide to the planetary constituency, and to
    that self same assemblage, my sincerest wishes for a salubriously
    beneficial and gratifyingly pleasurable period between sunset and
    dawn.”

    24th December 2010 at 12:38 pm

  8. StuckInNJ says:

    Bill Maher’s 2010 Christmas Message. 2 min.

    He NAILS Oprah’s fat ass!!!

    Must see. Great message.

    24th December 2010 at 1:57 pm

  9. AKAnon says:

    Generally, I think BMES. But he got it right this time. And Oprah eats even more shit.

    24th December 2010 at 2:52 pm

  10. Punk in Drublic says:

    RE
    I don’t want to take away from your hilarious post… But it inspired me….

    On the first day of Christmas,
    The Burning Platform sent to me
    Smokey’s nuts to hang on my tree.

    On the second day of Christmas,
    The Burning Platform sent to me
    Two .44s,
    And Smokey’s nuts to hang on my tree.

    On the third day of Christmas,
    The Burning Platform sent to me
    Three Frenchy flames,
    Two .44s,
    And Smokey’s nuts to hang on my tree.

    On the fourth day of Christmas,
    The Burning Platform sent to me
    Four flipping birds,
    Three Frenchy flames,
    Two .44s,
    And Smokey’s nuts to hang on my tree.

    On the fifth day of Christmas,
    The Burning Platform sent to me
    Five gold maple leaves,
    Four flipping birds,
    Three Frenchy flames,
    Two .44s,
    And Smokey’s nuts to hang on my tree.

    On the sixth day of Christmas,
    The Burning Platform sent to me
    Six silver eagles,
    Five gold maple leaves,
    Four flipping birds,
    Three Frenchy flames,
    Two .44s,
    And Smokey’s nuts to hang on my tree.

    On the seventh day of Christmas,
    The Burning Platform sent to me
    Seven goofy pictures,
    Six silver eagles,
    Five gold maple leaves,
    Four flipping birds,
    Three Frenchy flames,
    Two .44s,
    And Smokey’s nuts to hang on my tree.

    On the eighth day of Christmas,
    The Burning Platform sent to me
    Eight markets crashing,
    Seven goofy pictures,
    Six silver eagles,
    Five gold maple leaves,
    Four flipping birds,
    Three Frenchy flames,
    Two .44s,
    And Smokey’s nuts to hang on my tree.

    On the ninth day of Christmas,
    The Burning Platform sent to me
    Nine jihadists dying ,
    Eight markets crashing,
    Seven goofy pictures,
    Six silver eagles,
    Five gold maple leaves,
    Four flipping birds,
    Three Frenchy flames,
    Two .44s,
    And Smokey’s nuts to hang on my tree.

    On the tenth day of Christmas,
    The Burning Platform sent to me
    Ten truthers crying,
    Nine jihadists dying,
    Eight markets crashing,
    Seven goofy pictures,
    Six silver eagles,
    Five gold maple leaves,
    Four flipping birds,
    Three Frenchy flames,
    Two .44s,
    And Smokey’s nuts to hang on my tree.

    On the eleventh day of Christmas,
    The Burning Platform sent to me
    Eleven banksters frying,
    Ten truthers crying,
    Nine jihadists dying,
    Eight markets crashing,
    Seven goofy pictures,
    Six silver eagles,
    Five gold maple leaves,
    Four flipping birds,
    Three Frenchy flames,
    Two .44s,
    And Smokey’s nuts to hang on my tree.

    On the twelfth day of Christmas,
    The Burning Platform sent to me
    Twelve senators lying,
    Eleven banksters frying,
    Ten truthers crying,
    Nine jihadists dying,
    Eight markets crashing,
    Seven goofy pictures,
    Six silver eagles,
    Five gold maple leaves,
    Four flipping birds,
    Three Frenchy flames,
    Two .44s,
    And Smokey’s nuts to hang on my tree!

    Merry Christmas everyone.

    24th December 2010 at 3:41 pm

  11. SSS says:

    Well done, RE. You nailed it with that post. Again, Merry Christmas.

    24th December 2010 at 3:42 pm

  12. Reverse Engineer says:

    Thanks everybody. :-)

    RE

    24th December 2010 at 4:05 pm

  13. Reverse Engineer says:

    BTW Jim, any chance you could submit this to Tyler Durden over on Zero Hedge? I think it would be good advertising for TBP.

    RE

    24th December 2010 at 4:11 pm

  14. Reverse Engineer says:

    Oh, one more thing.

    Stuck, I wrote that Parody while I was in college while imbibing pscilocybin laced eggnog, its been floating around the web ever since. I dropped it on the local network we had at Columbia at the time, and it obviously persisted on the server and got duped up after the arpanet morphed into the internet.

    Believe it or not….

    RE

    24th December 2010 at 8:28 pm

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