Matt's Macs

'Twas the Night Before (a Mac) Christmas

- 2001.12.24 - Tip Jar

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house;: No hardware was stirring, not even the mouse;
The stockings were hung by the iMac with care,: In hopes that blank CDs would soon be found there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,: While visions of GIFs danced in their heads;
And mamma with her web layout, and me with the scripts;: Had just settled down for a long night of creative bliss,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,: I hit option-S before seeing what was the matter.
Away from my Mac I flew like a flash,: Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow;: With the luster of my new iBook y'know,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,: But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
Like a Mac 512 driver, so compact and quick,: I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than FireWire his coursers they came,: And he clicked, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, DASHER! now, DANCER! now, PRANCER and VIXEN!: On, COMET! on CUPID! on, DONNER and BLITZEN!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!: Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
Like the files that are uploaded to the Net on the 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 Mac goodies, and St. Nicholas too.
And in a screen redraw, I heard on the roof: The prancing and clicking of each little hoof.
As I put down my tablet, and was turning around,: Through the front door St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his toes,: And his clothes were all covered with dust and snow;
A bundle of Mac software he had flung on his back,: And he looked like a consultant just opening his pack.
His TiBook - how it glowed! the Apple how merry!: His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
How the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;: Like the iMac sitting on my desk y'know
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, like buttons on the OS X desktop place.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,: And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A boot of his TiBook and a spin of the hard drive,: Reminded me that Santa had arrived;
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 and giving a nod,: He went out the door, with listening to his iPod;
He zipped to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,: And away they all flew like the down of many pixels.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,: "HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT!"

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