Thursday, December 22, 2005
Looking To The Stars - And To All A Good Knight
Well, Uncle Starman was going to give you all the gift of a special holiday poem. He got inspired to write a parody of Twas The Night Before Christmas that was going to be a tribute to those bravest of fools; the small local comic shop owners. And about two days into this task, ol' Uncle Starman remembered why exactly he got into the business of writing comic book reviews and not poetry.
To wit, his poetry stinks.
So no matter what holiday you celebrate, know that you are not going to have to suffer reading the Vogonesque poetry parody that might well have made up the column this week had Uncle Starman been less kindhearted or had time to write something else before hitting the road to visit his parents.
Instead, we offer a much nicer poem than we ever could have hoped to receive from Uncle Starman. It was written by Brandon Blatcher and posted to the rec.arts.comics.misc group in 1998. We hope that you enjoy it and will be back here next week for the 4th Annual Starry Awards.
Twas the night before Christmas
and all throughout RAC,
not a creature was stirring,
and that was an odd little fact!
All the stockings were posted
to the chimney with glee
In the hope that they'd be filled
with comics for free!
The posters were nestled all snug in their beds,
While the Crisis graphic novel was delivered, but only in their heads;
And mamma in her thong, and I in my mask,
Had settled down for a muli part epic in which to bask.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I boomtubed from the bed, to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like the flash,
snitking open the shutters and clobbering the sash.
The moon colored real kewl, as was the computerized snow,
Giving more cheesiness to objects below,
When, what to my masked eyes did appear,
A miniature embossed sleigh and eight Photoshoped reindeer,
Pulling a costumed old driver so lively and quick,
I screamed in a moment "Take it elsewhere, you're off topic!"
Down the chimney he 'ported,
like a good mutantÂ© should.
He was so garishly attired,
I knew he belonged in this 'hood!
He spoke not a word,
it was essential to the plot,
at least till the editor changed it,
as you knew they would, those silly crackpots.
Yet he finished his work,
Just beyond the deadline,
with a nifty panel transition,
That would probably leave the artist in a bind
But I saw him letter
before he 'ported outta sight
"Merry Christmas to all
and to all a Good Night"
Tune in next week. Same Matt time. New Matt Year!