Friday, December 12, 2003

Bah, Humbug! 

For local readers, a treat! Dave Christopherson is working on his internet-less Mac and can't post anything, but he sends along a ditty running around his college here at SCSU.
�Twas the night before finals at S-C-S-U;
Few creatures were working � much less at MnSCU.
Our wallets were drained, with no contract in sight.
All hoped St. Mc-Cor-mick would soon set things right.

The IFO leaders all cried in their beer,
Dashed visions of health-care plans brought them no cheer;
And Roy in this season did sit back and chime
�Bout how all professors had so much free time.�

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter.
Away in Centenn�yal I sought a window . . .
No, wait, they�re not in yet; I guess I�m just slow.

The sun shone down where our college would be
Warehoused on fourth floor where no one could see.
When, what to my wondering eyes should now show,
But a huge S-U-V, with eight minions in tow.

With a great big old driver, so slow and not quick,
I knew in a moment it was Mc-Cor-mick.
More rapid than eagles his subjects all came,
To settle a lawsuit � I think Dick was his name.

"Now, Saigo! now, Spitzer! now, Ludwig and Bernie!
On, Veeder! on Holder! on, Fisher and Ernie!
For a plan to secede, you must never succeed;
Just dumb down, yes dumb down, you follow my lead.�

Those dry quips that on discuss-list once flew
Lie now banished by threats of sanctions that grew
�Gainst thoughtless remarks.� Now, civility�s the rule:
�Judge not another; why, that�s just too cruel.�

�Tolerate anything . . . except for one thing;
It�s clearly intol�rance that must feel our sting.�
Then I thought to myself, �Wait a minute, hmm, huh?�
Why don�t I get it? Am I just a dense �duh�?

He was dressed all in fur, us to visit in haste,
Just like Liberace . . . the most lavish of taste!
A bundle of cash he had flung on his back,
To take from our campus and fill his own sack.

His red eyes so evil! His presence - how scary!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry.
His pursed little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
Made you wonder aloud, �Does he drive like Janklow?�

His eight elves stood �round him, like potted plants all,
Not fighting a lick to stop St. Cloud�s great fall
In ratings to rival one other school�s fate.
That�s right, you just guessed it: we�re a cold Metro State!

He was chubby and plump, a tall heavy old elf,
And I cringed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A glare of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon let me know I had much now to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled his own sack; then turned like a jerk,
And laying two fingers aside his red nose,
Mc-Cor-mick blew hard just before he arose.

He lurched to his truck, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all sped like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,