Here is my digital marketer’s take on the classic poem, “T’was the Night Before Christmas.” Happy holidays! I hope you enjoy…

T’was the night before Christmas, when all through the Cloud,

Not a blogger was posting, not even Matthew Dowd.

The data was stored on the network with care,
In hopes that St Sergei soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While images of Dora played on their iPads.

And mamma with her Nexus 7, and I with my Surface RT,
Had just settled our brains on a MOOC course for free.

When out of the desktop there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what’s the matter.
Minimizing the Windows and closing the Flash,
I logged out of Shutterstock to stave off a crash.

The light from the glow of the browser Chrome,
Gave luster to the image appearing on Google Home.
Where, what to my wondering eyes should detect,
But a miniature St Sergei, wearing a pair of Google specs.

With a little old smirk, so lively and gay,
I knew in a moment, it must be St Sergei.
More rapid than eagles, faster than I could count,

He whistled, and shouted, and called for a Hangout!
“Now Zuckerberg! Now, Cook! Now Silbermann, Bezos and Page!
On, Ellison! On, Weiner! On Costelo, on Crowley, and Mayer!
To the keys of the Macbook! To the keys of the PC!
Now log in! Log in! Log in all!”

I stood in confusion, ever wondering why,
When to my amazement , each one did reply.
Imagine my shock, when came into view,
A brace of tech leaders, and St Sergei too.

And then, in a twinkling, as he began to chat,
In a state of mere shock, all alone I sat.
As I turned on my mic, and adjusted the sound,
All alone on the screen, St Sergei could be found.

He was dressed all in finery, from his head to his toes,
His shirt Kenneth Cole, his pants vintage Girbaud.
With a pair of Google Glasses adorning his head,
He looked like a tourist, just back from Club Med.

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 in a smile,
His wholesome demeanor showed no trace of guile.

The stump of a toothpick he held tight in his teeth,
A faint aura encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a clean-shaven face and a mop of curly hair,
That ever was tousled, though he did not care!

He was stylish and goofy, a right jolly old nerd,
And I laughed when I saw him, before he uttered a word!
Though a wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to wonder if had something to dread.

He spoke many things, from augmented reality to asteroid mining,
Filling up the air, while the others sat pining.
To get in their two cents, a mere word, or a phrase,
His ability to banter on, everyone did amaze!

Then he sprang from his seat, this wily ol’ geek,
And ended the Hangout, ‘ere anyone could speak.
But I heard him exclaim, as he blinked out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”



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