’Twas the night before Christmas, and all of my mail
Couldn’t be less convincing to create a sale.
And ridiculous e-mails, repulsive to see,
Still aren’t as repulsive as spots on TV.
The worst of the lot are commercials by Dell,
Whose product is good but whose TV spots smell.
That obnoxious dweeb spokesman appeals to the young
But his smirk looks like he has been chewing on dung.
If you think these objections are callous and crude,
Tell that ugly kid he should quit calling me “Dude.”
Then there’s Sprint, whose commercials
are over the fence,
Which is where they should be
since they make zero sense.
But at least they don’t make us grimace,
cringe and scream
Like Jamie Lee Curtis’ spots for VoiceStream.
And there’s old Joe Isuzu, so worn out and tired.
Hey, do this guy a favor by getting him fired.
Gee, what a surprise! Mail from Capital One,
Exactly the same as they’ve previously done.
And United Airlines gives me more miles to fly.v Uh-oh! Do I have to sign with MCI?
Every credit card mailing is standardly grooved
With the standard approach: “You have been
pre-approved.”
Here’s some porno e-mail. Hmmm, that’s
really uncouth
Since it wasn’t expected…but really, the truth
Is that although the message was never invited
It does get the reader a wee bit excited.
Here’s a wonderful offer—a new DVD,
And can you believe it, it’s truly all free?
Except, by the way, for the handling and shipping,
Just thirteen bucks. That’s their new way of off-ripping.
Ah, some costly new software. Now, what shall we call it?
Oh, it’s called “CRM”? Then we’d better install it.
And now, eight months later, we’re getting news off it:
Has it girded its loins to bring in a big profit?
Sure, it’s made lots of money for…uh…better hold it:
It’s made lots of money for whoever sold it.
Our Priority Mail shipment, with speed that’s a-blaze,
Was delivered quite fast—in just four to eight days.
So we’ll ship UPS. That’s the service we like…
Except that their drivers are going on strike.
Aw, let’s head for a Web site to place a new order.
So what if that vendor is south of the border?
It’s a wonderful bargain. And I want to try it.
Ugh—how do I get to the page where I buy it?
Well, it’s one hour later, and I still can’t check out,
So I guess I’ll just give up and then get the heck out.
It may be that one day a Webmaster will hear
Our ongoing plea: “Will you please make it clear?
Will you please make it easy? Will you please do it right?”
No, of course they won’t do that. It would mean a plightv In which we’d discover that what Webmasters do
Is conceal easy methods from me and from you.
You can see why we’ve reached the infernal conclusion
That they and the devil are deep in collusion.
So I’ll just stick with e-mail. Gee, here are the names
Of some 10 million buyers, half guys and half dames.
They’re just sitting there, waiting to open their coffers
For any and all unsolicited offers.
Is it really true they are all wealthy high-flyers
Who qualify as the top level of buyers?
Of course it’s true. List mavens never would lie.
Oh? Then why did my e-mails just curl up and die?
I guess that we’re missing
a crucial dimension,
So let’s call
our ad agency
for its attention.
What’s our agency’s number? I somehow forgot it.
Oh, last week a conglomerate came in and bought it.
And to maintain the image and maintain the fame,
They dismissed all the staff and they then
changed the name.
To be sure that the takeover wouldn’t be stressful,
They announced that they bought it ’cause it was successful.
Well, a still-bigger agency hove into view
’Tis the season to be jolly. So indulge me while I indulge myself by corrupting the classic Clement Moore poem
And bought up the buyer. So what else is new?
For lunch we’ll have cheeseburgers,
then we’ll see Bernie.
Who’s Bernie? You know him—our fatso attorney.
We’ll stoke up at McDonald’s and Burger King too,
Then it’s off to see Bernie, who’s eager to sue.
And since we have butter and cream on our shelves,
In fairness we ought to be suing ourselves.
Now I’m watching TV but I’m never alone,
Because that’s when those boiler rooms
always will phone.
Telemarketers, why can’t you ever just say,
“My name is” instead of “How are you today?”
I’ll tell you how I am: My wires are tripped
By your dull repetition of that worn-out script.
But whenever we think, “Take this business and shove it,”
We pull up short. Truth is, we really do love it.
Can you think of a challenge that’s new every day?
No, you can’t. And that’s why, with a smile, we all say,
In a voice loud enough for old St. Nick to hear:
“Merry Christmas to all…and just wait till next year!”
(Now, who would have written this
in such high dudgeon?
Just one possibility: Your old Curmudgeon!)
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