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Post by stepper on Dec 16, 2012 22:18:18 GMT -6
I'm doomed.
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Post by Phalon on Dec 18, 2012 11:50:57 GMT -6
First, I would like to express an overdue "thanks" to our Hostess Probstsess for all the dedication and love she gives to all the little furries. Tiring and stressful as it is, Poppet, you deserve that Jack and (gag) Pepsi, no bribery strings attached. And congratulations you over-achieving Cavemen and woman. Sorry, to my partner in low-point scoring crime, dearest Katina - can't say I gave it my all, but I gave it something...what it is I I gave I can't say either, because the headache it gave me erased it all from my memory. Looking forward to this newest challenge (eye-roll), but in the meantime, I wanted to leave a similar thing here - a poem I wrote which is actually a rip-off of a famous poem. Excuse me if I posted this before; I wrote it a few years ago, dug it out, and presented it at a library reading recently. The blurb at the end, which are the statistics that prompted to me write the poem might be outdated, but they still make me cry. "Christmas when I was growing up was magical. My parents, following an old European custom that has origins long since forgotten, went all out on Christmas Eve. Santa brought everything! He brought not only gifts and filled stockings, but he also brought the entire tree, fully decorated, for us to wake up to Christmas morning. Sometimes we’d even hear sleigh bells ring up on the rooftop at night and his heavy footsteps as he clomped around, making his way to the chimney. Years later, I discovered this wasn’t just an imagination working overtime in my excitement, but my Dad had actually got up in the attic, ringing bells and making sure he stomped loud enough for us to hear. I can’t imagine the work they packed into one night just for us kids to have a few moments of magic; magic would last a lifetime, long after the gifts were forgotten, as my brothers and I both remember with fondness days of Christmases past. If there was ever a Christmas that the gifts under the tree seemed scarcer than other Christmases (and I’m sure there were), my brothers and I never noticed. Fast forward from my childhood to this Christmas season. I stressed as to how I would find the time to get my Christmas shopping done. I fretted that because money was tight this year, Christmas might seem slimmer than in years past; I worried that my daughters might be disappointed. Had my parents ever wondered and worried the same? It didn’t matter to us kids; all we experienced was magic. Would it matter to my kids? Should it matter to me? Something I read blew me away, and I started to wonder ... what if? What If, On the Night Before Christmas
’Twas the night before Christmas, and out on the street, The family huddled together, praying for heat. The shelter was full, “There’s no room at the Inn.” How did this happen, where’d it begin?
The children were nestled, with cardboard for beds. With out-grown shoes on their feet, and no hats on their heads. I look at them now, with pain in my heart. Again I ask, “How did this happen, how did it start?”
I look at my wife; she deserves so much more. I never meant for us to end up homeless and poor. She works two jobs now; she’s always tired and beat. But on minimum wage, it seems ends never meet.
A company downsizing, my job it was gone. Everything was lost; it all turned out so wrong. All that we’ve worked for; it seemed none of it mattered. Just like that, the American Dream had been shattered.
The bills and the mortgage, The credit card debt. The condo vacation, The SUV payment. It all added up, But what’s that they say: Living beyond our means, “It’s the American Way!”
I woke from the dream with start, in cold sweat. The dream held a lesson; one I must not forget. Absorbed in ourselves, in our sorrows and joys, We forget the men, women, the girls and the boys.
For everyone, at times, can use the help of a stranger. And in forgetting, there lies an inherent danger. I remembered a man I’d seen just the other day, Who I’d hurried past, on my merry little way.
He was dressed all in rags, from his head to his foot, And his clothes were tarnished with grime and with soot. His eyes told a story, but I was unwilling to see – This man could be anyone; he could even be me.
His hands held a sign: “Willing to work. Please, give me a chance.” I hurried on by him, with barely a glance. I looked straight ahead, my eyes kept averted. “He’s just a bum,” my mind had asserted.
But what if I’d taken the time to see the pain in his eyes? Would I have seen things differently, and thought otherwise? Instead I passed him by, wrapped up in my own life, Never thinking he might have a daughter, a son, and a wife.
Those less fortunate, with never enough to eat, With no coats on their backs, or shoes on their feet. No child should go hungry, no father despair Because he can’t provide for his family; it’s all so unfair.
What if he was my neighbor, my cousin, my brother? What if he was me, and not some unfortunate other? Who’s responsible for that man holding the sign? The responsibility is everyone’s; it’s yours and it’s mine.
And when we view them as family, we can’t look away, From the man with no job, our eyes filled with dismay. From the child who is dirty, with clothes that are torn. From the woman whose face is tired and worn.
What if I was that man, out in the cold? Would I wish for presents wrapped in silver and gold? Or would I hope that others take note, and remember my plight, As I pray “Happy Christmas for all, and for all a warm night!” 'Families with children are now the fastest growing group of the homeless population in the United States. They account for about 40 percent of the people who become homeless each year, and currently make up 38 percent of the homeless. Of that population, 39 percent are children under the age of 18. One in 50 children in America is homeless.'Please, let’s not forget them.
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Post by stepper on Dec 18, 2012 18:32:35 GMT -6
What if we were tasked with a poem instead of a song?
“A poem” she says The one who makes rules “About Christmas” she says “And here are your tools
Seuss like you’ll make it And original fare I’ll score you my way And points will be fair”
But I cannot write Nor can I think My lines are all trite They’re short and they stink!
I toil and worry But words will not come Then arrives an idea I’ll ask Santa for some
The Man all in Red At the head of the line I’ve come to the mall But I’ve wasted my time
She’s beaten me to him El Scrappo you see “No rhymes on a whim No words will be free”
Of Christmases past I have memory But memories fade fast Like an old Christmas tree
“A bribe” I am thinking But what will it be? Bottled perfume? A big Reese’s tree?
What ‘present’ will do? What will it be? The thing that will make her Say the winner is “Me?”
No, she won’t have it That will not do Only the poem ‘Bout Christmas gets through
I’ve not got a rhyme And I can’t delay I’ve run out of time What shall I say
Of tinsel and trees And how bright lights shine And winters' freeze And memories of mine
I’m older now It’s advice that I’ve got And to be honest I’ve got a lot
I can remember From Christmases past It’s memories of family You’ll want to have last
I remember Dad’s story Of Mom’s first Christmas tree “To damn big for our door!” And we’d all laugh with glee
And our meal time table All crammed with food Put my old Grand-Pa In such a good mood
“And who made the gravy? What’s this that I see? It’s a lump my dear baby! Is there one in my tea?”
We laughed at old stories We made some for new And then we were parted The stories were through
So this is my present The one I give you Hug them all NOW You really need to
Hug ‘em and Hold ‘em The ones that you love Be kind and be gentle Like with kittens or doves
Don’t wait for ‘C’ day You should get started Because it will happen One day you’ll be parted
But you can be happy When later has come Life’s game’s about loving And you will have won.
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Post by katina2nd on Dec 18, 2012 20:51:58 GMT -6
First, I would like to express an overdue "thanks" to our Hostess Probstsess for all the dedication and love she gives to all the little furries. Tiring and stressful as it is, Poppet, you deserve that Jack and (gag) Pepsi, no bribery strings attached. I second that Gams. Sorry, to my partner in low-point scoring crime, dearest Katina - can't say I gave it my all, but I gave it something...what it is I I gave I can't say either, because the headache it gave me erased it all from my memory. No probs' we gave it our best shot, can't ask for more then that. Saw the latest challenge and my first thought was to simply stay away for a week (or two) but then figured that was a the cowards way out so decided to front up. "silly, silly man" ;D What you've presented is excellent Gams, is it okay if I just sponge off you and hope Hostess Probstsess awards us the game for your efforts, or do I actually *shudder* have to come up with something as well.
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Post by stepper on Dec 18, 2012 21:04:40 GMT -6
I don't think I could do it. I'd get all emotionally involved - and parting is NOT sweet sorrow.
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Post by Phalon on Dec 19, 2012 7:17:24 GMT -6
Thanks, Katina, but I posted that just because, and not as part of the game; it's not Seuss-like, not a song....and not posted in our "respective areas", which is what the Mighty Mostess Hostess requested.
I wonder if she means the public respective area or the super, super secret private respective area. I was just in there (super secretly) but it's all blank. Maybe that's why we didn't score more points - our answers magically disappeared, (sounds good, yes?). I bet the over-achievers had something to do with it, (sounds even better).
Oh, btw, I stuck mine in the super-secret place. Lemme know, Christmas Probstess, if you prefer the open-air Whovillain market.
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Post by Mini Mia on Dec 19, 2012 15:41:11 GMT -6
Since we're doing this separately, I just assumed we were to do it out in the open.
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Post by stepper on Dec 19, 2012 16:54:34 GMT -6
I bet the over-achievers had something to do with it, (sounds even better). {Hey! Gang! Turn off the vacuum!} Ahem. If YOUR answers accidentally got sucked over to OUR board somehow, we had nothing to do with it.
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Post by Mini Mia on Dec 19, 2012 17:19:16 GMT -6
When the game was over, and the scores were posted, I moved all threads from both boards dealing with that game to archives. 'Twas the only time I went in there.
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Post by stepper on Dec 19, 2012 17:29:31 GMT -6
Or that might explain it.
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Post by Scrappy Amazon on Dec 23, 2012 2:08:53 GMT -6
OK Folks! That's it! Any songs or poems posted after right now will not count! Game over. I'll post the scores after I talley them tomorrow!
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Post by Mini Mia on Dec 23, 2012 2:54:12 GMT -6
Yay, my brain can stop with the lyric.
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Post by stepper on Dec 23, 2012 10:56:27 GMT -6
OK Folks! That's it! Any songs or poems posted after right now will not count! Game over. I'll post the scores after I talley them tomorrow! I’ve got it figured out. Spock wins: the only alien not to break a rule. Kat wins: he got extra credit because he not only created a song, he had to translate it from Australian to English and kept the meter. I won: I brought Reese’s Trees. Phalon won: she posted numerous ditties and bribed the judges with Jack (and Pepsi? Really?) Joxie won: She buried all of us under a creative flood of songs. Nobody won: we were supposed to post in our respective areas and no area showed any respect for the holiday at all. Joxie won: She got the bribes and didn’t have to kill herself working on Seuss songs
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Post by Scrappy Amazon on Dec 26, 2012 13:16:35 GMT -6
Ok folks! I've done my duty! I have read all the entries, I have tallied the points, I have made my final decision! And the winner is: Phalon! I swear it has absolutely NOTHING to do with the box I got in the mail today.
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Post by Mini Mia on Dec 26, 2012 17:04:02 GMT -6
ME! ... uh ... huh? ... mumble ... mumble ... mumble ...
*cough* yay, phalon ... *cough*
Good job, Phalon. I guess overachievers never win.
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Post by Phalon on Dec 27, 2012 5:30:51 GMT -6
I've won?! Whoo-hoo!!!
I'd like to thank all my fans (myself), and apologize to my family, who has had to endure for the past week listening to me sing blurbs of 'O Roast Beef Slab' on occasion; it somehow got stuck in my head while writing, and won't leave.
Someone help me.
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Post by Scrappy Amazon on Dec 27, 2012 11:03:01 GMT -6
Jingle Bells Batman Smells.................?
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Post by Spock on Dec 27, 2012 13:17:26 GMT -6
Jingle Bells Batman Smells.................? Grandma's on her way ... Wonder how this "Carol By Committee" will end up?
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Post by katina2nd on Dec 28, 2012 0:50:16 GMT -6
Like to congratulate my partner, the ever so talented Wendy for her win.
Personally thought brevity may have carried the day, but hey I'm a good loser so there'll be no questioning of the decision from me, and no mention of any possibility of chicanery that I'm sure never took place behind the scenes.
;D
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Post by Mini Mia on Feb 9, 2013 22:29:50 GMT -6
Since we played individually this time, does that mean someone is getting kicked off the island?
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Post by Phalon on Feb 10, 2013 9:00:47 GMT -6
I think Scrappy's left us here to drive one another insane....or until she devises another challenge to drive us insane....or until she gets a new computer so she can post another challenge with the idea of driving us insane.
Or until I remember she asked me to tell you to close the thread because her computer blew a while ago and she's not supposed to post from work.
Whichever comes first.
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Post by stepper on Feb 10, 2013 12:45:01 GMT -6
It doesn't look closed to me. But I'm telling you right now I'm not making up any Valentine Day Carols. Leave it open so we can play if we feel like it. We need a way to get back as Scrappy and having her read a bunch of posts to which she cannot reply sounds like fun! Hey Scrappy! We're still here! (snicker snicker)
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Post by stepper on Feb 10, 2013 13:15:21 GMT -6
Whoosh was blocked at work. It's not like there were a whole lot of people posting here and wasting time, but now we can 't even look.
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Post by Mini Mia on Feb 10, 2013 20:43:55 GMT -6
I was wondering where she went. Sheesh! She's hard on computers isn't she?
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Post by Spock on Feb 10, 2013 21:33:00 GMT -6
... She's hard on computers isn't she? It must be her eclectic electric personality ...
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Post by stepper on Feb 11, 2013 18:35:58 GMT -6
How do you break a computer? Loan it to Scrappy. Satisfaction guaranteed.
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Post by Phalon on Feb 13, 2013 8:02:22 GMT -6
It's not blocked, but Scrappy's not supposed to look or post. Ms. Rulz though, is better at making them than she is at following them. (HA! I can say that because chances are by the time she sees it, I'll be prepared for the backlash).
How many is she up to now? Three? Four? I think maybe this last one was Number Two Rebuilt Twice. I hear her truck bit the dust too. I bet all forms of machinery shudder in fear when she even looks in their direction.
(Does anyone know of a Backlash Preparedness Class I can enroll in?)
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Post by Spock on Feb 13, 2013 13:44:11 GMT -6
... (Does anyone know of a Backlash Preparedness Class I can enroll in?) Sure, I have a correspondence course I created in the last few minutes just for people like you. Send me $5,000,000.00 cash using small, unmarked bills in a small, plain brown envelope and I will send you the website link and access information.
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Post by stepper on Feb 13, 2013 17:16:45 GMT -6
Don't worry Phalon, Ms Rulz will be weeks. She is waiting to see just how deep a hole we can dig. What’s the difference between a person who runs games and a pit bull chewing Alka-Seltzers? Nothing!! I slay me.
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Post by Phalon on Feb 14, 2013 7:18:39 GMT -6
Sorry for ya, Spock. I found the same course on e-bay for $1.99...and it included SparkNotes.
I'm thinking you just saved Scrappy some work with that one, Stepper.
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