Look at the other people in this thread, doing things in half measures. I only put zero effort into fourteen lines and those were so that I could insult Cat Examiner.
'Twas the night of Jack Chickmas, when thro' the podcast;
Not a person was listening, not even Frank West;
The readings were hung in the hopper with care,
In hopes a ridiculist soon would be there;
The readers were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sissykiss lurked in their heads
And Jack in his t-shirt, with liquor in hand,
dwelled on what he could not understand—
When out on the speaker arose such a clatter,
He sprang from his thoughts to see what was the matter.
Away to the keyboard he flew like a flash,
Woke up the monitor, and saw some new trash.
The site had new documents it wished to show,
Giving terrible light to “art” from below;
When, what to Jack's wondering eyes should appear,
But his favorite poem about reindeer,
with anapestic meter, lively and quick,
He knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
But changes abounded, for obsessed nerds came
And altered the poems with topics, to name:
“Now! Tracer, now! Shopper, now! Endor and German,
“On! Lifter, on! Furries, on! Reform and Ryan;
"To the top of reddit! To the top of my wall!
"Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"
As Pringles from their new spring-loaded-can fly,
When that invention launches them to the sky;
So Icarus-like these poems they flew,
With contrived scansion—and St. Nicholas too:
And then with a mis-step, they give us proof
that poems have rules, as they crash and cry “Oof”.
As Jack read out the doc, and was pouring a drink,
Outside Cat Examiner stopped to think:
He was dress'd all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnish'd with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys was flung on his back,
And he look'd like a peddler just opening his pack:
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 like a bow,
And the beard of 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.
He had a broad face, and a little round belly
That shook when he laugh'd, like a bowl full of jelly:
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And He laugh'd when he saw his new self;
For before he had an idea into his head
To prepare a set of poems to be read.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Searched Reddit; keeping eye out for a jerk,
Reading through his verse, at first he was glad,
but parodies began to drive him quite mad.
His Santa-kin self like a Juggalo grew,
until it became all Examiner knew:
For now he exclaimed, to drive others from sight—
Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night.