Coming up on the 2nd anniversary of the event. I think we need a holiday to commemorate.
please accept my poorly parodied rendition of The Night Before Christmas as my contribution to Baldosday. I put more work (20 minutes) into this than Nic has in the last year of streaming.
'Twas the night before Baldo'sday, when all through the crackhouse
Not a creature was stirring, not even a Pug's poisoned snout;
The trash heaps were strewn by the roomful with care,
In hopes that Pope Nickolas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all drugged in their beds;
While visions of any food at all danced in their heads;
And mamma in her 'fugue state, and I in my steel toe,
Had just xanied our brains for a long Star Trek show,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a middle aged swinger,
Tore open the shutters and shut up the 'fridgerator.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen coke,
Gave a lustre of midday to objects below,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a raving madman, a white trash villain, with all his horsepower,
With a little old Mustang so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment he must be Pope Nick.
More rapid than probation his sexpests they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now, Melton! now, Herrera! now Ethan and Scarlette!
On, Daggerpussy! on, Chaos! on, Valkyrie and [REDACTED]!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dont answer the door, dont answer it at all!"
As coca leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up to the housetop the sexpests they flew
With the sleigh full of cocaine, and Pope Nickolas too—
And then, in a twinkdeathening, I heard on the roof
The oinking and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Pope Nickolas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in Leisure Suits, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with coke and with goo;
A bundle of baldos he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a nigger just opening his pack.
His eyes—how they twinkdeathled! his dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was pulled back like a moke,
And the beard on his chin was as white as his coke;
The stump of a crackpipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a rat face and a little body, like a skelly!
That rattled when he laughed, like a dancing israeli.
He was thin and unpleasant, like a mean old frump
And I laughed when I saw him;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had violated the HRO;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his "work",
And filled all the stockings; which he did with a few jerks,
And laying his coke inside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the galaxy gas he rose;
He sprang to his mustang, to his team gave a hollerin'
And away they all flew like the methheads they were.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he crashed out of sight—
“Happy Baldo'sday to all, and to all a good night!”