twas-the-night-before-christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas, at least in LA—
For Dan, Phil, Jack, and Pewds, ‘twas in fact Christmas Day.
But for Mark, the clock chimed out eleven at night,
And he scritched Chica’s ears as he reached for the light.

All his friends and his loved ones were likely asleep,
But Mark texted “goodnight” before counting his sheep.
His eyelids grew heavy, mind drifting toward dreams,
When the silence was shattered by thudding and screams.

“Oh, godDAMMIT!” A voice echoed out of the smog;
Mark jumped out of bed and tripped over his dog.
He recovered and made for the window with poise,
Which vanished when he spied the source of the noise:

‘Twas Arin, decked out in a red coat and hat,
With a sleigh full of gifts and an elf-costumed cat.
And pulling the sled as it hurled through the sky
Were the Game Grumps and Holly—turns out, they can fly!

They were dressed up as deer, with bright antlers and hooves,
And cute onesies to keep them all snug on the roofs.
Their noses were painted; t’were tails on their butts,
As they flew past the window (and Mark’s frantic “WHAT”s).

“Now, Suzy; now, Barry; now, Ross, Dan, and Brian!
On, Vernon; on, Holly; on, Jack, Matt, and Ryan!
To the top of the house, without hitting more walls!
And don’t challenge me, Ross; you don’t have the rein-balls!”

As Arin called out, the Grumps swooped in to land;
Mark wondered if he should go offer a hand.
The rooftop was angled, not built for a sleigh,
And a hospital’s no place to spend Christmas Day.

But before Mark could move, he did hear a soft sound—
‘Twas the thump of the sled as it safely touched down
And the shuffling of friends on his roof in hoofed feet,
So Mark whipped out his phone, and he tweeted a tweet.

“All the @GameGrumps in costumes came out of the sky.
They’re up on the housetop! I swear I’m not high.”
Then his phone gave a buzz in the palm of his hand,
For @bwecht had replied, “Mind your own business, man.”

Mark huffed but then straightened and made for the stair
After giving the screen one more halfhearted glare,
For he heard Arin’s boots on the living room floor,
And Mark had a few questions, and then several more.

Arin bustled about, a large sack near his feet
From which he took gifts and then stacked them up neat.
A smile lit his face with each present retrieval;
When he laughed, his form shook like a bowl full of evil.

“Dude, what the hell?” Mark demanded, perplexed,
“You broke into my house! Where’s the courtesy text?
And why didn’t you tell me our friends can all fly?
Are these presents a trap? Like a face full of pie?”

Arin’s eyes, they did twinkle; he spoke not a word,
Merely finished unpacking, Mark’s questions unheard,
For his headphones were hidden beneath his red cap.
Then he vanished, his ears full of jolly gift-rap.

Mark gaped like a fish, then he rushed out the door;
All the Grumps shot him hand-hearts and took off once more.
They explained not a thing; Arin yelled, merry-bright:
“Happy holidays, all, and to all, a good night!”

Mark facepalmed and dragged himself into the house;
Not a creature was stirring, neither Chica nor mouse.
All the gifts glimmered, innocent, under the tree;
They could wait til the morning, post-sleep and coffee.

And so if, in December, you hear a strange sound
While you’re sleeping with nary a witness around,
Just remember this tale, and do try not to jump
If you creep out of bed and discover a Grump. ;)

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As the old Gravity Falls legend goes…

 whether you’re naughty OR nice, a jolly little triangle will break into your house and eat all your food (and leave you spiders and nightmares if you’re lucky)

the most obnoxious part of the holiday season is commercials that try to sound like ‘Twas The Night Before Christmas and have a dinky xylophone playing in the background while the narrator tells you in rhyme to buy a Ford

Twas the night before Christmas...

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the nation
the Christians were having a grand celebration.
They left their offices early and closed all the shops,
and it seemed almost as though the whole world has just stopped.

But hidden away, tucked far out of sight
The Others were having a less silent night.
They emerged from their houses in frolicsome fleets,
Shouting with glee as they danced through the streets:

“Now Muslim! Now Jain! Now, Buddhist and Hindu! 
On, Jewish! On, Pagan! On, Bahá’í and Shinto! 
And all other faiths, and all nonbelievers! 
Get ready for Dim Sum, get ready for movies!”

And so off they went, the whole ethnic flock
to India Palace and Mandarin Wok.
They stuffed themselves silly on dumplings and kheer
only stopping to watch the movies premier

Then they all stayed out late because
none of them had to get home for Santa Clause.
And at the end of the day they said with delight:
"Merry Christmas to some, but to all a good night!”

A Dark Souls Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the Shrine,
Not a creature was stirring, not even Patches, that swine.
The Firelink ruins were, as expected, quite bare,
As I have no hands, and Lautrec wouldn’t share.

The Chosen was resting by the bonfire,
now lit,
While Hollows everywhere prayed they wouldn’t be hit.
And Anastasia in her cage, and I in my hole,
both realized that keeping fires going was our only goal.

When outside Firelink, there arose such a clatter,
I stretched my neck high to see what was the matter.
Up into the sky, I flew like, well, a snake,
To try and figured out what caused me to wake.

Fire was burning outside of the Shrine!
“Hraaaaoooog!” I exclaimed, as that is my line.
No one had awoken, as I had hoped that they would,
and I trembled as I heard the feared phrase: “GIT GUD!”

It was a powerful man, in a mask he was clad,
And I whispered to myself “Not Giantdad.”
More rapid than eagles, he ran with such speed,
And he yelled about items and rings I would need.

He was too far away, so I couldn’t quite hear,
though I’m sure he said something like “RINGS BRING GREAT CHEER!”
Then, in thirty seconds flat, he was right by the well,
Of Firelink Shrine, what he did I shall tell.

He pulled out a sack, from where I don’t know,
And began to pull out objects that started to glow.
A string of lights here, a string of lights there,
Suddenly Firelink wasn’t so bare!

He dashed towards Lautrec, the Knight of Carim,
Placing right by him, a bottle of cream.
“THIS IS SO YOU’RE SUPPLE SKIN WON’T DRY,
BECAUSE IF IT DID, WE’D ALL CERTAINLY CRY.”

Next was the Firekeeper, asleep in a cell.
The book he gave her, “How To Speak Well.”
Then he dashed toward Seigmeyer, a compass in hand,
As the man always seemed to wander all over the land.

An estus flask was placed next to the Chosen Undead,
And a wreath was expertly placed on his head.
A note was then left by the clerics in a ditch.
It said, and I quote, “WHAT RINGS YOU GOT, BITCH?”

By my pit the Legend left a decorated tree,
then ran shouting before I could fully express my glee.
“REMEMBER TO LEVEL YOUR STATS UP RIGHT,
THE LEGEND HAS SPARED YOU, MERRY CHRISTMAS, GOODNIGHT.”

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AND now, The Night Before Christmas.
This would be a good time for the muslims to go to the bathroom…
Twas the night before Christmas
And all the Jews were at the movies…or eating chinese food…
Will you?!
What? I’m just trying to include everyone!
Twas…
HOLD IT!
WHAT?!
Who the hell says twas?
Its in the story!
Well its old and stupid!
Its tradition!
…tis it?
Twas the night before christmas and all through the house…
Why is it always a house?
What?
You know there are kids who live in apartments…how do Santa Claus get to the kids in the apartments Uncle Jeffy?…He has to buzz his ass in *BUZZ* Santa Claus…
And all through the apartments not a creature was stirring…
Except for the assholes in 2B…they’re drunk and hitting each other with manores…oy vey…thats jewish for holy shit..
…Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse
Mouse? YOU WISH! YOUR IN AN IMPARTMENT! THATS A RAT!
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care
And believe me the room could use some fresh air…seriously how the hell did that tradition start?
What?
Hanging up dirty landry and hoping Santa will fill it with goodies YUCK! I’d like to suck on this candycane but it smells like dads feet! Good thing the tradition wasnt a jockstrap…Sally whats in yours? …Nuts…and mommy says there magicly delicious!
YOU ARE RUINING THIS STORY!
Well your the pervert eating out of your own jockstrap! Isn’t this the part where the kids are sleeping with sugarplums dancing in their heads?
Yeah
What does that mean? I think they’re huliucinating, these apartment children are on drugs…Santa’s gonna bring me a GIJOE and a bong…and Daddy wants a hohoho…ITS DADDY AND THE THREE HOES…
With momma in her cercif and me in my cap, we had both settled down
FOR A BIG SNORT OF CRACK!…aww…guitar guy your in the story too… Look, you have to get to the part where Santa gets busted for breaking and entering, where the hell is that…
ITS NOT BREAKING AND ENTERING!
Oh, keep reading I think it qualifies…
As I drew in my head was turning around, down the chimney Saint Nicholas came with a bound
He fell down?
…Yes
And doesnt say his face was red?
Yeah
WHY DOES NO ONE SEE THIS! THIS GUY IS DRUNK OFF HIS ASS! This is a horrible, horrible story
He was dressed all in fur to his foot, and his clothes were all covered in ashes and soot
Fat, drinking and driving, wearing a furry gay outfit, covered in soot and smoking, and YOU let him in the house because he said he had something for your kids…WHAT THE HELL KIND OF FATHER ARE YOU ANYWAY! If I were you I’d check his ID then tazer his fat ass! How fat is this guy anyway, everyone is always leaving him plates of cookies, I bet he’s a diabetic too, don’t you think? You oughta leave him a plate of insulin how bout that? Can’t wait to hear this story next year, The Night Before Christmas Part II, Santa is on dialysis and he’s missing a leg…and all his little dollys have poloyosis…
CAN I FINISH THIS STORY?!
Oh please do…
He spang to his sleigh and to his team gave whistle
Got to go quick cause there’s a cop with a pistol…
But I heard him exclaim as he drive out of sight…
Merry Chirstmas too all, oh crap, I ran over your bike…

‘Tis the night before Christmas, in the warm South Pacific
Still a satellite searches, its aims non-specific;
It roves over frequencies, wideband and narrow,
Searches for people and places in peril;

John’s brothers are nestled all snug in their beds;
And it’s not like he wants them to be elsewhere instead;
But the world’s a big place, and big places require,
Someone to watch them in case something’s on fire.

Scott’s not asleep, the lone instigator,
If John is the watcher then Scott is the waiter  
When the call hits the comms and the lounge comes alight,
Scott’s already ready for a long winter’s night.

The moon o'er the island shines silver on whitecaps,
But down come three boys in their PJ’s and nightcaps,
A situation’s arisen, that’s all that they know,
Though still sleepy and stumbling, Thunderbirds still have to go.

Thunderbird 1 with its thrusters a'thundering,
Takes to the skies over hearts wide and wondering.
Scott arcs over the ocean, til the mainland’s in sight,
Though it’s not his chariot children look for tonight.

Load Pod A, load Pod B, load extra hydraulics,
Load your little brothers, cuz we’re all workaholics
All clear on the runway! All clear in the hangar!
Obligatory off-rhyme with Thomas Brodie-Sangster!

Thunderbird 2 puts a hurricane to shame,
Slow may be steady, but this isn’t a game;
Off of the launchpad—Mach Four–Five–Six–Seven
Thunder to shame all the choirs of Heaven.

Scott’s at the forefront, angling north,
Still the distress call drawing them forth,
Virgil and Gordon and Alan behind,
John, ever-watchful, the eye in the sky.

So Scott overtakes him and doesn’t believe it,
It’s a good thing his brothers will catch up and see this.
The craft in distress is a sleek little sleigh,
It’s listing just slightly, reindeers disarrayed.

“Thunderbird 5, this is Thunderbird 1,
Disable all vid feeds, don’t record this run.”
John’s got a clear view, his brother’s by proxy,
There’s no way in hell Santa’s getting a doxxing.

“Thunderbird 2, drop your altitude slightly,
It’s a midair-landing, keep her still and fly tightly.
Alan and Gordon, get up on the roof.
From what I can see it’s the lead reindeer’s hoof.”

The Terrible Twosome are consummate professionals,
This sort of deed, well it’s hardly forgettable;
Gordon’s all giddy and Alan’s all solemn,
And they get it all sorted, tell the Big Guy they’ve got him.

He speaks not a word, just a nod and a wave,
There’s an exchange of glances and the boys all behave,
A leather gloved finger on the side of a nose,
Then the crack of a whip and the old elf just goes.

And then back to reality, everything sorted,
Back home to the hangars, a crisis averted.
Not a word to be spoken, not a thing left to say,
But they know in their hearts that they saved Christmas Day.

Still it’s anticlimatic, that quiet flight home,
Might have at least had a “thanks!” from the lumpy old gnome,
But on the return approach, from on high like a diamond—
For the first time in—well, ever—there’s snow on the Island.

— 

Prelude In Z

Merry Christmas, TAG team <3

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Michelle Obama and Kermit read “Twas the Night Before Christmas”.

"'Twas the Night Before Christmas" By Clement Clarke Moore

Clement Clarke Moore wrote this poem in 1822 for his own children. It is also referenced with the title, “A Visit from St. Nicholas”. The poem is the origin for many of the modern notions of Santa Claus, his plump and cheerful white-bearded look, the names of his reindeer, and even the tradition that he brings toys to children.

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse ;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there ;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds ;
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads ;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave a lustre of midday to objects below,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny rein-deer,
With a little old driver so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name :


“Now, Dasher ! now, Dancer ! now Prancer and Vixen !
On, Comet ! on, Cupid ! on, Donder and Blixen !
To the top of the porch ! to the top of the wall !
Now dash away ! dash away ! dash away all !”
As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky ;
So up to the housetop the coursers they flew
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too–
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot ;


A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
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 nose like a cherry !
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow ;
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 a little round belly
That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself ;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread ;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings ; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose ;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team 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, and to all a good night !”

Let us take a moment to appreciate Mr. Nast’s adorable depiction of Victorian house mice, complete with their own daybeds, quilts, side table, pocket watch, and, for some reason, their very own wall-mounted telephone.

And of course, Season’s Greetings, Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year from the North Jersey History and Genealogy Center!

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’Twas the Night Before Christmas (1974)