Programmers Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before implementation and all through the house
not a program was working, not even a browse.
The programmers hung round their cubes in despair
with hopes that a miracle soon would be there.

The users were nestled all snug in their beds
while visions of inquiries danced in their heads.
When out of the cope there arose such a clatter
I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter.

And what to my wandering eyes should appear
but a super contractor with a six pack of beer.
His resume glowed with experience so rare
he turned out great code with a bit-pushers flair.

More rapid than eagles, his programs they came –
he whistled and shouted and called them by name;
“on update, on add, on enquire, on delete, on batch jobs,
on closing, on function complete.”

His eyes were glazed over, fingers nimble and lean
from weekends and nights spent in front of the screen.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
soon gave me to know I had nothing dread.

He spoke not a word but went straight to his work
turning specs into code; then he turned with a jerk
and laying his finger upon the enter key,
the system came up and worked perfectly.

The updates updated, the deletes they deleted,
the inquiries inquired, the closing completed.
He tested each whistle, he tested each bell,
and with nary abend, all had gone well.

They system was finished, the tests were concluded,
the client’s last changes were even included.
And the user exclaimed with a snarl and a taunt,
“IT’S JUST WHAT I ASKED FOR, BUT NOT WHAT I WANT.”

Date: Wed, 10 Dec 1997 13:54:18 -0500

The Night Before Christmas for Moms

It was the night before Christmas, when all thru the abode
only one creature was stirring, and she was cleaning the commode.
The children were finally sleeping, all snug in their beds,
while visions of Nintendo 64 and Barbie, flipped through their heads.
The dad was snoring in front of the TV,
with a half-constructed bicycle on his knee.
So only the mom heard the reindeer hooves clatter,
which made her sigh, “Now what’s the matter?”
With toilet bowl brush still clutched in her hand,
she descended the stairs, and saw the old man.
He was covered with ashes and soot, which fell with a shrug.
“Oh great,” muttered the mom, “Now I have to clean the rug.”
“Ho-ho-ho!” cried Santa, “I’m glad you’re awake.”
“Your gift was especially difficult to make.”
“Thanks, Santa, but all I want is some time alone.”
“Exactly!” he chuckled, “I’ve made you a clone.”
“Exactly!” he chuckled, “I’ve made you a clone.”
“A clone?” she asked, “What good is that?
Run along, Santa, I’ve no time for chit-chat.”
The mother’s twin. Same hair, same eyes,
same double chin. “She’ll cook, she’ll dust, ”
she’ll mop every mess. You’ll relax, take it easy,
watch The Young & the Restless.” “Fantastic!” the mom cheered.
“My dream come true! “I’ll shop. I’ll read., I’ll sleep a whole night through! ”
From the room above, the youngest began to fret.
“Mommy?! I scared… and I ‘m wet.”
The clone replied, “I’m coming, sweetheart.”
“Hey,” the mom smiled, “She knows her part.”
The clone changed the small one, and hummed a tune,
as she bundled the child, in a blanket cocoon.
“You the best mommy ever. ” I really love you.”
The clone smiled and sighed, “I love you, too.”
The mom frowned and said, “Sorry, Santa, no deal. ”
That’s my child’s love, she’s trying to steal.”
Smiling wisely Santa said, “To me it is clear, ”
Only one loving mother, is needed here.”
The mom kissed her child, and tucked her into bed.
“Thank you, Santa, ” for clearing my head.
I sometimes forget, it won’t be very long,
when they’ll be too old, for my cradle-song.”
The clock on the mantle began to chime.
Santa whispered to the clone, “It works every time.”
With the clone by his side Santa said, “Goodnight.
Merry Christmas, Mom, You’ll be all right.”

Date: Wed, 10 Dec 1997 13:54:18 -0500

A Microsoft Christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, except Papa’s mouse.
The computer was humming, the icons were hopping,
As Papa did last-minute Internet shopping.

The stockings were hung by the modem with care
In hope that St. Nicholas would bring new software.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of computer games danced in their heads.

PageMaker for Billy, and Quicken for Dan,
And Carmen Sandiego for Pamela Ann.
The letters to Santa had been sent out by Mom,
To santaclaus@toyshop.northpole.com –

Which has now been re-routed to Washington State
Because Santa’s workshop has been bought by Bill Gates.
All the elves and reindeer have had to skedaddle
To flashy new quarters in suburban Seattle.

After centuries of a life that was simple and spare,
St. Nicholas is suddenly a new billionaire,
With a shiny red Porsche in the place of his sleigh,
And a house on Lake Washington that’s just down the way
From where Bill has his mansion. The old fellow preens
In black Gucci boots and red Calvin Klein jeans.
The elves have stock options and desks with a view,
Where they write computer code for Johnny and Sue.

No more dolls or toy soldiers or little toy drums (ahem – pardon me)
No more dolls or tin soldiers or little toy drums
Will be under the tree, only compact disk ROMS
With the Microsoft label. So spin up your drive,
From now on Christmas runs only on Win95.

More rapid than eagles the competitors came,
And Bill whistled, and shouted, and called them by name.
“Now, ADOBE! now, CLARIS! now, INTUIT! too,
Now, APPLE! and NETSCAPE! you are all of you through,

It is Microsoft’s SANTA that the kids can’t resist,
It’s the ultimate software with a traditional twist –
Recommended by no less than the jolly old elf,
And on the package, a picture of Santa himself.

Get ’em young, keep ’em long, is Microsoft’s scheme,
And a merger with Santa is a marketer’s dream.
To the top of the NASDAQ! to the top of the Dow!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away – wow!”

And Mama in her ‘kerchief and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
The whir and the hum of our satellite platter,
As it turned toward that new Christmas star in the sky,
The SANTALITE owned by the Microsoft guy.
As I sprang from my bed and was turning around,
My computer turned on with a Jingle-Bells sound.

And there on the screen was a smiling Bill Gates
Next to jolly old Santa, two arm-in-arm mates.
And I heard them exclaim in voice so bright,
Have a MICROSOFT CHRISTMAS, and TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT.

Date: Wed, 10 Dec 1997 13:54:18 -0500

The Night Before Christmas Internet Style

A festive holiday poem
Hugh Drumm & Vincent Ambrose

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Net,
There were hacker’s a surfing. Geeks? Yeah, you bet.
The e-mails were stacked by the modem with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
The newbies were nestled all snug by their screens,
While visions of Java danced in their dreams.
My wife on the sofa and me with a snack,
We just settled down at my rig (it’s a Mac).
When out in the Web there arose such a clatter,
I jumped to the site to see what was the matter.
To a new page my Mac flew like a flash,
Then made a slight gurgle. It started to crash!!
I gasped at the thought and started to grouse,
Then turned my head sideways and clicked on my mouse.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
My Mac jumped to a page that wasn’t quite clear.
When the image resolved, so bright and so quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick!
More rapid than mainframes, more graphics they came,
Then Nick glanced toward my screen,
my Mac called them by name;
“Now Compaq! Now Acer!”, my speaker did reel;
“On Apple! On Gateway!” Santa started to squeal!
“Jump onto the circuits! And into the chip!
Now speed it up! Speed it up! Make this thing hip!”
The screen gave a flicker, he was into my RAM,
Then into my room rose a full hologram!
He was dressed in all red, from his head to his shoes,
Which were black (the white socks he really should lose).
He pulled out some discs he had stored in his backpack.
Santa looked like a dude who was rarin’ to hack!
His eyes, how they twinkled! His glasses, how techno!
This ain’t the same Santa that I used to know!
With a wink of his eye and a nod of his head,
Santa soon let me know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, gave my Mac a quick poke,
And accessed my C drive with only a stroke.
He defragged my hard drive, and added a SIMM,
Then threw in some cool games, just on a whim!
He worked without noise, his fingers they flew!
He distorted some pictures with Kai’s Power Goo!
He updated Office, Excel and Quicken,
Then added a screensaver with a red clucking chicken!
My eyes widened a bit, my mouth stood agape,
As he added the latest version of Netscape.
The drive gave a whirl, as if it were pleased,
St. Nick coyly smiled, the computer appeased.
Then placing his finger on the bridge of his nose,
Santa turned into nothing but ones and zeros!
He flew back into my screen and through my uplink,
Back into the net with barely a blink.
But I heard his sweet voice as he flew from my sight,
“Happy surfing to all, and to all a good byte!”

Date: Wed, 10 Dec 1997 13:54:18 -0500

The Night Before Christmas

The Night Before Christmas (A Visit From St. Nicholas) by Clement Clarke Moore

(the original text, so not really a joke, but it’s nice to know what’s being spoofed elsewhere.)

‘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 down for a long winter’s nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the 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 the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it 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 BLITZEN!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top 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 hand, 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 of 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 bowlful 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.”

Twas The Night Before Finals

Twas the night before finals, and all through the college, The students were praying for last minute knowledge. Most were quite sleepy, but none touched their beds, While visions of essays danced in their heads.

Out in the taverns, a few were still drinking, And hoping that liquor would loosen their thinking. In my own room I had been pacing, And dreading exams I soon would be facing. My roommate was speechless, his nose in his books, And my comments to him drew unfriendly looks.

I drained all the coffee, and brewed a new pot, No longer caring that my nerves were all shot. I stared at the notes, but my thoughts were muddy, My eyes went ablur, I just couldn’t study. “Some pizza might help,” I said with a shiver, But each place I called refused to deliver.

I’d nearly concluded that life was too cruel, With futures depending on grades made in school. When all of a sudden, our door opened wide, And Patron Saint Put-It-Off ambled inside.

His spirit was careless, his manner was mellow, All of a sudden, he started to bellow. “On Cliff’s notes, on Crib notes, On Last Year Exams. On Wing-It and Sling-It and Last Minute Crams.”

His message delivered, he vanished from sight, But we heard him laughing outside in the night. “Your teachers have pegged you, so just to your best, Happy Finals to All, and to all a Good Test.”

Date: Wed, 10 Dec 1997 11:02:52 -0500

Politically Correct Santa

‘Twas the night before Christmas and Santa’s a wreck…
How to live in a world that’s politically correct?
His workers no longer would answer to “Elves”,
“Vertically Challenged” they were calling themselves.
And labor conditions at the north pole
Were alleged by the union to stifle the soul.
Four reindeer had vanished, without much propriety,
Released to the wilds by the Humane Society.
And equal employment had made it quite clear
That Santa had better not use just reindeer.
So Dancer and Donner, Comet and Cupid,
Were replaced with 4 pigs, and you know that looked stupid!
The runners had been removed from his sleigh;
The ruts were termed dangerous by the E.P.A.
And people had started to call for the cops
When they heard sled noises on their roof-tops.
Second-hand smoke from his pipe had his workers quite frightened.
His fur trimmed red suit was called “Unenlightened.”
And to show you the strangeness of life’s ebbs and flows:
Rudolf was suing over unauthorized use of his nose
And had gone on Geraldo, in front of the nation,
Demanding millions in over-due compensation.
So, half of the reindeer were gone; and his wife,
Who suddenly said she’d enough of this life,
Joined a self-help group, packed, and left in a whiz,
Demanding from now on her title was Ms.
And as for the gifts, why, he’d ne’er had a notion
That making a choice could cause so much commotion.
Nothing of leather, nothing of fur,
Which meant nothing for him. And nothing for her.
Nothing that might be construed to pollute.
Nothing to aim. Nothing to shoot.
Nothing that clamored or made lots of noise.
Nothing for just girls. Or just for the boys.
Nothing that claimed to be gender specific.
Nothing that’s warlike or non-pacific.
No candy or sweets…they were bad for the tooth.
Nothing that seemed to embellish a truth.
And fairy tales, while not yet forbidden,
Were like Ken and Barbie, better off hidden.
For they raised the hackles of those psychological
Who claimed the only good gift was one ecological.
No baseball, no football…someone could get hurt;
Besides, playing sports exposed kids to dirt.
Dolls were said to be sexist, and should be passe;
And Nintendo would rot your entire brain away.
So Santa just stood there, disheveled, perplexed;
He just could not figure out what to do next.
He tried to be merry, tried to be gay,
But you’ve got to be careful with that word today.
His sack was quite empty, limp to the ground;
Nothing fully acceptable was to be found.
Something special was needed, a gift that he might
Give to all without angering the left or the right.
A gift that would satisfy, with no indecision,
Each group of people, every religion;
Every ethnicity, every hue,
Everyone, everywhere…even you.
So here is that gift, it’s price beyond worth…
“May you and your loved ones enjoy peace on this earth.”

Date: Mon, 8 Dec 1997 13:47:43 -0500

The Tight Skirt

A woman was trying to board a bus, but her skirt was too tight and she couldn’t step up. She reached behind her and lowered the zipper a bit and tried again.

The Skirt was still too tight. She reached behind her and lowered the zipper some more.

She still couldn’t get on the bus and lowered the zipper a third time. All of the sudden, she felt two hands on her butt, which proceeded to push her up onto the bus.

She spun around, with anger in her eyes and said very indignantly, “Sir, I do not know you well enough for
you to behave in such a manner!!”

The man smiled coyly and said, “Lady, I don’t know you well enough for you to unzip my fly three times either!”

Birthday Party

A grandmother is throwing a party for her granddaughter, and had gone all out….. a caterer, band, and a hired clown. Just before the party started, two bums showed up looking for a handout. Feeling sorry for the bums, the woman told them that she would give them a meal if they will help chop some wood for her out back. Gratefully, they headed to the rear of the house.

The guests arrived, and all was going well with the children having a wonderful time. But the clown hadn’t shown up. After a half an hour, the clown finally called to report that he was stuck in traffic, and would probably not make the party at all.

The woman was very disappointed and unsuccessfully tried to entertain the children herself. She happened to look out the window and saw one of the bums doing cartwheels across the lawn. She watched in awe as he swung from tree branches, did midair flips, and leaped high in the air.

She spoke to the other bum and said, “What your friend is doing is absolutely marvelous. I have never seen such a thing. Do you think your friend would consider repeating this performance for the children at the party? I would pay him $50!”

The other bum says, “Well, I dunno. Let me ask him. HEY WILLIE! FOR $50, WOULD YOU CHOP OFF ANOTHER TOE?”

Star Wars Holiday Humor

Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker were having one of their little father and son chats. Lightsabers drawn and sparks flying.

Vader pinned Luke against a bulkhead and glared into his face, “I know what you’re getting for Christmas, Luke,” he said, “Ohhh, yes! I know!”

Luke fought himself free and jumped to a higher platform just out of Vader’s reach, “How do you know!?” Luke yelled at him, “How do you know what I’m getting for Christmas!?”

Darth Vader shot Luke an icey glare, “I felt your presents.”

Date: Fri, 5 Dec 1997 10:04:10 -0500