Twas the Night Before Christmas

Posted: December 23, 2014 by Micah in Randomnicity
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Well Citizens of the Internet, welcome to the last of last posts before Christmas. And you know what I think? You know what we need to do after a few weeks of wandering around the Internet basically making fun of every Christmas related object I could find that wasn’t actively nailed to the floor? I mean I made a whole video where I did nothing but yell about how much I hated various Christmas songs!! And here (in a totally not self-promotional moment) is that video.

So, as we stand on the precipice of Christmas what joy can we find?  What answers can we seek? What questions can we ask?

No idea.

But here’s a classic Christmas poem that I will now say a lot of weird things about.


‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

Are there a lot of mouse stirring problems in this house usually? Can you generally not sleep because of the raucous din of a thousand mice busily stirring things. Do you employ a large group of mice chefs? Or a small group of large mice? Or a mice group of large smalls?… What were we talking about?  

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

Hanging stockings by the Chimney: Because putting long dry pieces of fabric near open flames has always worked out well. 

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;

I don’t mean to come across as an ignorant buffoon, but I’ve never had Sugar Plums and they sound atrocious. Who dreams of Sugar Plums? What sort of screwed up child dreams of plums? I don’t care if they’re covered in gold and iphones, you don’t dream of plums. You dream of Volkswagon bugs and Playstation 4s. That’s what you dream of. You GET plums. 

Sugar plums: they're kind of like jelly beans... from purgatory.

Sugar plums: they’re kind of like jelly beans… from purgatory. 

And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap,

Stop calling your wife Mama. It’s just confusing. Your children will be confused, you’ll start calling your children’s Grandma, Grandma and no one will know who’s related to who or what’s really going on with the world. Stop the lies. 

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,

The Flash?? Dude, well done. No wonder you have a bunch of highly trained mice chefs. You’re the Flash. 

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,

Weird. You… you stay away from the snow, Moon. Don’t get all handsy… this is Christmas.  

Gave a lustre of midday to objects below,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,

Tell something… did your eyes wonder as they wandered??? 

But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny rein-deer,

So wait… is Santa some sort of tiny toy person? Like he’s made from plastic? This would explain how he’s gotten around unnoticed so long but… it would also make toy delivery about a zillion times more difficult. 

With a little old driver so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick.

It was his lively, quickness that gave him away? Not the red suit, sleigh, reindeer and huge stacks of presents. Cause I feel like that would give it away. 

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!

Prancer and Vixen?? That’s unfortunate. Especially one after the other. Those are kinda stripper names… good thig you don’t have a deer named Dancer, cause that would just be ridi- oh wait…

On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

This flight trajectory makes no sense. You were on the porch and then you were on the wall?? You’re already on the porch there, Santa. Just exit, there’s no need to play around on the walls.

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”

How have the Mrs. Dash people not made a commercial out of this?? Come on people, I’m GIVING these things away.

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—

Glad we included the “St. Nicholas too” line. Otherwise I would be concerned that the reindeer had just gone rogue and bailed on the big guy.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

Wait, there back on the roof now? I thought they were on the porch?? Or the wall. For a guy on such a tight schedule Santa is not a super efficient flyer.

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;

So according to this line Santa basically looks like Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins, as far as over all soot ratio. I think movies should do this more, at the end of things Santa is basically covered in soot to the point where all you can see is the whites of his house. It would bring a new blue collar look to Santa.

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack.
His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

This just got awkward. Did I just step into a Keats poem?? Santa’s cheeks are like a Red Red Rose?? Calm down there Nitro, keep your cap on.

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;

Santa smokes??? On the job??? Inside of houses containing young children?? Wow Santa. I don’t know what to do with that. We’re gonna have to get him one of those e-cig things or something… get it together Cringle.

He had a broad face and a little round belly
That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.

Obesity everyone. It’s likes jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.

Yeah, laugh at Santa… that’ll get you on the nice list.

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

I would still be worried. I’ve seen some creepy head twists in my time.

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;

Santa needs to come up with a better signal. Laying a finger  aside of his nose??? I mean what if you briefly pick your nose and the signals get crossed? What if you feel like you have to sneeze? I’m just saying, maybe come up with a wave or some sort of hand gesture. Efficiency people. 

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

Are thistle down’s especially quick? What the heck IS a thistle down anyway? It doesn’t sound super fast. I mean I have a Goose-down pillow and it’s fairly sedentary. 

Pictured: A Thistledown... the very soul of speed... apparently.

Pictured: A Thistledown… the very soul of speed… apparently.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight—
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”
And there you have it guys, I have no more to say except to echo the words of a pipe smoking, tiny person, with some unfortunately named reindeer: Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

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