A Christmas Message to BellGab from AB

[jazmunda]

Not that AB. The real AB. The one who hasn't forsaken us.

Without further ado. I give you the Christmas message of aldousburbank as recited on the latest episode of The GabCast which will be available shortly here:

Aldous has given me permission to post the transcript of his beautiful Christmas message to BellGab. Once MV posts the audio please listen because the words are just words and it is best read with the accompaniment of the dulcet tones of aldous' voice.

Twas the night before Christmas
And all through the forum
Not much to say
No jingle bell
Random stupid thoughts
Now random fucking boring
Falkie had fed the kitties
With his own thread to share
Art Bell quit Dark Matter
Which died of dead air
Sardoni off the map, sleepless and Chine also quiet
But George’s secret door show is always a fucking riot
But as I loaded my vape pen with care
My hair suddenly sensed a certain magic in the air
What the hell is your fucking problem I thought I heard someone yell through the door
I saw nothing through the window so I inhaled, then I heard some more
A voice with an accent like some kind of fuckin Boston rumble, gruff, with a clear Kafkaesque fucking  grumble
So it doesn’t feel like Christmas and your life is a chore
No more Dark Matter
My God you’re such a fucking bore
When will Art return should I listen to Coast instead?
Well here’s a better idea go read the politics thread
Who’s gay, who’s straight interests me not
Tell us something we want to know bitch; which is of course are you hot?
George Knapp winding down
The Coast franchise in stitches
My favorite posts now done by troll sucking bitches
And so I remain
I shall work out of sight
You’re all so god damn pitiful
Fuck you
Goodnight
And as I sniffed the air
it smelled likel old books and beer
A certain mix of madness, intensity, good cheer, a touch of spice, street wisdom mixed with possibly cocaine
These things have an odour of an easy laughter combined with hard pain
And I thought long and hard while letting out my exhale
I suddenly knew the rest of this tale
Though we may not see him and he never writes and no one can replace him which really really bites
The spirit of Eddie Coyle lives on in my head
Like when I count my blessings starting with I’m not in jail, I’m not dead
Beyond this you see there’s not too many degrees mostly don’t burn the forest to see through the fucking trees
No matter how harsh, unhappy, uptight
Everyday is a  chance to make it all right
And when this day is over put this in your sight
There’s also one chance to have a good night
So with this simple truth I’m bringing you fucking weirdos to share
But I forgot what we were talking about so now I don’t care but if I did I would only say this much
Happy Christmas, Boxer Day, Equinox, Kwanza and all that fucking stuff

[ziznak]

hmmmmmm had this silly thought that the world might end and the only record of human history left ends up being this poem...