Here's my take on the classic poem, "T'was the night before Christmas." It's a slight modernization of Clement Clark Moore's original 1822 version. Happy Holidays to all!
T'was the night before Christmas, when all through the Cloud,
Not a blogger was posting, not even Matthew Dowd.
The data was stored on the network with care,
In hopes that St Sergey soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While images of Elsa danced on their iPads.
And mamma with her Macbook Air and I with my Surface Pro 3,
Had just settled our brains on a MOOC course for free.
When out of the desktop there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what's the matter.
Minimizing the Windows and closing the Flash,
I logged out of Facebook to stave off a crash.
The light from the glow of our new browser Chrome,
Gave luster to the image appearing on my G+ Home.
When, what to my wondering eyes should project,
But a miniature St Sergey, wearing a pair of Google specs.
With a little old smirk, so lively and gay,
I knew in a moment, it must be St Sergey.
More rapid than eagles, faster than I could count,
He whistled, and shouted, and called for a Hangout!
"Now Zuckerberg! Now Silbermann! Now Bezos and Page!
On, Cook! On, Mayer! On Costelo and Crowley!
To your desktops and laptops! Come heed my call!
Now log in! Log in! Log in all!"
I stood in confusion, ever wondering why,
When to my amazement, each one did reply.
Imagine my shock, when came into view,
A brace of tech leaders, and St Sergey too.
And then, in a twinkling, he began to chat,
In a state of mere shock, all alone there I sat.
As I turned on my mic, and adjusted the sound,
Alone on the screen, St Sergey was found.
He was dressed all in finery, from his head to his toes,
His shirt Kenneth Cole, his pants vintage Girbaud.
With a pair of Google Glasses adorning his head,
He looked like a tourist, just back from Club Med.
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 in a smile,
His wholesome demeanor showed no trace of guile.
The stump of a toothpick he held tight in his teeth,
A faint aura encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a clean-shaven face and a mop of curly hair,
That ever was tousled, though he did not care!
He was stylish and goofy, a right jolly old nerd,
And I laughed when I saw him, before he uttered a word!
Though a wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to wonder if we'd something to dread.
He spoke many things, from augmented reality to asteroid mining,
Filling the air all night, while the others sat pining.
To get in their two cents, a mere word, or a phrase,
At his ability to blather, everyone did amaze!
Then he sprang to his feet, this wily ol' geek,
And ended the Hangout, 'ere anyone could speak.
But I heard him exclaim, as he blinked out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"