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'Twas The Week Before M.Bell

(with apologies to Clement Moore)

'Twas the week before M.Bell, when all through the list

Everybody was flaming; everybody was pissed;

The e-nsults were flung at each other in despair,

While common civility disappeared in thin air;

Like children, they lay awake nights in their beds,

While self-righteous put-downs danced in their heads;

And I, in my anorak, (a strange kind of cap),

Had just settled down to read all this crap,

When out of my mailbox there arose so much chatter,

I sprang from my chair to avoid the blood splatter.

Away from my 'puter I ran in a dash,

And went down to the pub; perhaps I'll get smashed.

But soon from my monitors flickering glow

The email came flooding in; shit, what a flow!

When, what to my red bloodshot eyes should appear,

But eight amarok-dailies (in ten minutes) Oh dear!

My trusty old modem, so lively and quick,

Was bogged down with downloads, it made me quite sick.

More vapid than Spice Girls the emails they came,

As they shouted, and called each other a name:

Now, "Shithead!" now, "Wankstain!" now, "Birdbrain" and "Moron!"

I reached for a pencil & paper to keep score on.

It didn't take long for good manners to fall,

Now stab away! hack away! smash away, all!

While I'm usually a laid-back, easy-going kinda guy,

When I saw this lots' tripe, I started to cry.

So into the trash all the e-mails I threw,

The digests, the dailies, the off-topics too.

And then, in an instant, more appeared with a *poof*

More scratching and clawing, non-stop. What a goof!

As I threw in my hand, and was turning around,

My old modem gave up and died with no sound.

It doesn't take long for ill-will to take root,

Just give your opinion, your flame and yer boot!

The questions and interests of many years back,

Are now hackneyed and trite and quite ripe for attack.

That old green-eyed monster, all scaly and hairy,

Is an Amarok lurker. He's really quite scary!

He seems to appear here when topics get slow,

Now it's time to move on...let's get on with the show!

The insults and put-downs being hissed through clenched teeth,

Make no sense at all...what's the point? What's the beef?

This list is more violent than shows on the telly,

We could use a good laugh; where the hell is John Kelly?

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old fart,

With a voice like Gene Autry, and a hat like Black Bart;

But the Cowboy's not here, he's on Elements instead,

Where downloading e-mail won't fill you with dread;

Now he posts not a word, but goes straight to his work,

Not reading some arrogant, back-stabbing jerk.

So I may just go join him, I guess, I suppose,

Just as soon as I'm done re-arranging this prose;

I want Oldfield meat, not tendon and gristle,

Not flames thrown around like some mis-guided missile

But you'll hear me exclaim, as I give you my biddance,



~Drew's Amarok Member Profile
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