The Night Before Christmas in 2023

‘Twas the time before Christmas, in a contrasting 2023
Not that anything artificial was stirring, not even with GPT;
The stockings of influencers, clouded pink with dyed blond(e) hair,
In hopes of somehow uncaging St. Nicolas memes here and there;
Some children nestled snug, teaching to fish gave a life of good stead,
While visions of mullet haircuts danced upon years of laughter ahead
And Mama Russia still had its chief, with hammer, sickle, and cap,
Had this made the Middle East not wake peacefully from its nap—
When in public any perceived antisemitism sports such a clatter,
Even if barefoot, serving nasi goreng could be a protesting matter.
Away from windows, there are crises at sea and points of flash,
Torn open volcanoes, storms, floodwaters with crocodiles, ash.
The silver spoon is decoded enigma-like via costly labels at a co.,
Gave lustre to division, no middle, just those above or below;
When, wondrously bits of coins had value again, or so it would appear,
But it is now, and blowing bubbles into 2024 are leaps of faith for the year,
With cutting costs while making ends meet, could prove quite the trick,
Know a little drum solo can be played with but one poultry drumstick.
More rapid savings prospects course, Boxing Day sales too early they came,
And cribs for beds, assembly required, DIY shouted, online discounts claim:
Now a list checked but once! Keeping things cheap! Carol or Karen,
Um, Scrooge? Um, Grinch? Spam not green eggs or ham serve ‘em;
Get it to the consumer right now, at worst, do a product recall!
Now blessings offered! To couples both same! “God welcomes all!”
As though a birthday speech moment, so spoke a life-like Brian of a guy,
When obstacles meet, turn another cheek, lest opinions may crucify;
So up to others, many think I’m White, if that’s what they always knew,
Full opinions can make a Jewsus, Jesús, even Jeseuss in the ville-of-Who:
And then despite mistletoes twinkling, fire and brimstone meant be aloof
The prancing and pawing may be more four riders and each horses’ hooves.
As I’ll not be drawn into picturing the Prophet this time around,
Downing the minute hand away from midnight is gospel that’s sound:
Dress’d in casual wear or business attire, from head to foot,
And did clothes matter with ones, zeroes, sudo, and root;
A bundle of questions, all answered with 42, by a monolith so black,
And look you’d best return to the office, or AI will give you the sack:
Disguise—new uses for reindeer! Self-drive: like a future EV,
Check the new sl.AIs, deep fakes, a pretrained cold reading turkey;
Droll conversations with chatbots and allowing HALly by the bow,
And if you think it’s cold in cyberspace, face that voices said no;
The burnt-out stumps of firebrand political tigers with no teeth,
And smoke from the rattle of many a sabre, best kept in sheath.
A Frankenstein in sense, murmured, hardly gold divine comedy
House guests like seafood, stay too long and things get smelly:
Chubby and rhyming with plump, then there are questions about wealth,
Was the colour orange (jump) suited to insurrection or complexion itself?
A wink to the correct use of personal pronouns caused aches in the head
Soon there was non-binary baking identifying with neither ginger or bread.
Then a little bird said, renamed, it now thought that its ex was such a jerk,
And then xmas, COVID-XIX JN.1, more dough kneaded conxpiracies to work,
And pointing fingers are asides of stones, glass houses, throws and throes
And given so many nods, it’s the smell of names by any other rose.
Sprung like sprigs of willow, whipped like cream, then given a whistle,
And away it all drove in a stainless steel truck gleaming like tinsel:
But pinched pennies now claimed to earn interest, that’s right—
Merry Christmas to all, and to all of 2023 assuredly good night!