one of the best things about having 7 years worth of archived gmail and gtalks is the gems that come up when you search for something.
in this case i put in 'twenty twelve' (a techno song in the vein of aviici that my brother sent me) and up came this incredible poem by what looks to be one of huyett's friends. not sure how this was missed the first time around (aka december 12th 2008) but it's too good not to be shared. plus we like power hours and christmas is coming.
i wish to give credit to whoever wrote the below poem and say 'well done friend'.
HOW THE GRINCH STOLE POWERHOUR
Every Yorker up in York-ville liked PowerHours a lot…
But the Grinch, who lived just south of York-ville, did
NOT!
The Grinch hated PowerHours! They came once a
season.
Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the
reason.
It could be his head wasn't screwed on just
right.
It could be, perhaps, that his undies were too
tight.
But I think that the most likely reason of all
May have been that his liver was two sizes too
small.
But, whatever the reason, his undies or liver,
He stood there before PowerHours, anger making him
quiver.
Staring down from Trump Tower with a sour, Grinchy
frown,
At the fun and festivities to the north side of
town.
For he knew every Yorker from west side to east,
Was preparing to take 60 shots at the least.
"And they're finding their shotglasses!" he
snarled with a sneer,
"Tomorrow is PowerHour! It's practically here!"
Then he growled, with his Grinch fingers nervously
drumming,
"I MUST find some way to stop PowerHour from
coming!"
For, Tomorrow, he knew, as happened four times a
year,
They'd arrive at 86th St. with glasses and
beer.
And then, oh the fun! Oh the FUN! FUN! FUN! FUN!
That's the one thing he hated! The FUN! FUN! FUN! FUN!
Then the Yorkers, at long last, would raise glasses of
beer.
They'd drink beer! They'd drink beer! They'd drink BEER!
BEER! BEER! BEER!
They'd drink beer once a minute, as their sobriety
decreased.
Which was something the Grinch couldn't stand in the
least!
And THEN they'd do something he liked least of all!
Every Yorker up in York-ville, the tall and the
small,
Would gather together, the guests and the hosts.
They'd raise up their glasses, and shout out the
toasts!
To your mom! To the 80s! And to girls that be
craaazy!
To good friends! To Christmas! And to not making babies!
And the more the Grinch thought of these good-natured
toasts,
The more he decided it's what he hated the most.
"Why, for a year and a half I've put up with it
now!
I MUST stop this PowerHour from coming! But HOW?"
Then he got an idea! An awful idea!
THE GRINCH GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA!
"I know just what to do!" The Grinch said in a
flash.
And he found an ironic t-shirt and m'stache.
How sarcastically witty, though not known as a
quipster,
In his tight jeans and t-shirt, he'd look just like a
hipster!
"All I need is a fixie…" The Grinch looked
around.
But since he wasn't in Brooklyn, there were none to be
found.
The Grinch snarled to himself, "As the
situation demands it,
I'll do the next best thing and take public
transit."
So he walked to the subway, paid with nickels and
dimes,
And finally got in after
swiping twelve times.
THEN he boarded the subway running under the
street,
And kicked an old woman out of her seat.
And the train started moving with leaps and with
bounds,
Towards 86th St. at the north side of town.
All the sub stops were empty. A slight haze filled the
air.
All the Yorkers were dreaming sweet dreams without
care.
Then his stop, up the stairs, down the street to the
east,
As the Grinch saw the red door his excitement increased.
"This is stop number one," the old Hipster
Grinch hissed,
And he jimmied the lock with a flick of his wrist.
Then he climbed flights of stairs, taking breaks in
between,
To ease the discomfort of tight hipster jeans.
When he got to 4B he tapped lightly on the door,
And on hearing no answer he jimmied once more.
Once inside the first thing that he saw were
shotglasses,
A whole pile left by prior shot masses.
So he tore open the shudders and threw out the sash,
And tossed all the glasses outside in a crash.
Then he slithered and slunk, with an unpleasant
jeer,
Around the whole room, and he took all the beer!
Budweiser! Keystone! And Milwaukee's Best!
Coors! Pabst Blue Ribbon! And all of the rest!
He stuffed them in bags, then the Grinch, without care,
Threw all of the beer down four long flights of
stairs.
Then he took all the wine, which he drained down the
sink,
To ensure that there'd be nothing left for to
drink.
Then he dashed to the stereo gleaming with glee.
"And NOW!" grinned the Grinch, "I will
take the CD!"
So the Grinch grabbed the mix and was leaving the
house,
When he heard a small sound like the squeak of a
mouse.
He turned around fast and he saw a small Gee!
Little Dylan Grace Gee, who was not more
than twenty-three.
The Grinch had been caught by this Dylan Grace Gree
Who'd arisen from bed for a middle-of-night pee.
She stared at the Grinch and said, "Hipster, but
why? "
"Why are you taking our precious mix? Why?"
But, you know, that old Grinch was so smart and so
slick,
He thought up a lie and he thought it up quick!
The fake Hipster Grinch declared, with a sneer on his
lips,
That the songs on the mix were insufficiently hip.
"So I'm taking it back down to Brooklyn, my
dear.
I'll add some new songs, then I'll bring it back
here."
And his fib fooled Ms. Gee. Then he patted her
head,
And she went to the bathroom and got back in bed.
Then the Grinch took his leave, for the damage was
done,
Took a cross-town bus, then the downtown 1.
It was quarter past dawn, all the Yorkers in bed,
All the Yorkers still snoozing, with dreams in their
heads.
The Grinch took off downtown, his mission complete,
Imagining the faces of Yorkers in defeat.
He had the CD! They couldn't drink without songs!
There was no way his plan could have possibly gone wrong!
And just to be safe, he had taken the beer,
He had taken the shotglasses, the outcome was clear!
So he hurried back home to the top of Trump Tower,
And took a long nap 'til the Hour of Power.
In his dreams he envisioned just what they would
do,
They would gasp! They would groan! They would cry out
"BooHoo!"
The Yorkers, at last, would cease with their fun,
And the PowerHour tradition would finally be done.
When the Grinch finally woke he was full of good
cheer,
He ran to the edge, put his hand to his ear.
And from York-ville up north he heard something real
low.
It started out low, then it started to grow.
But the sound wasn't sad! Why, this sound sounded merry!
It couldn't be so! But it WAS merry! VERY!
He stared down at York-ville, the Grinch popped his eyes!
Then he shook! What he saw was a shocking surprise!
Every Yorker in York-ville, the tall and the small,
Was toasting! Without any beverage at all!
He HADN'T stopped PowerHour from coming! IT CAME!
Somehow or another, it came just the same!
And the Grinch, staring down at the merriment
below,
Stood puzzling and puzzling: "How could it be
so?"
"It came without beer! Without glasses or
songs!"
The Grinch stood there thinking: "Where had he gone
wrong?"
And he puzzled three hours, till his puzzler was
sore.
Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before!
"Maybe PowerHour," he thought, "isn't just
about beer."
"Maybe PowerHour…perhaps…it about people and
cheer!"
And what happened then? Well…In York-ville they
say,
That the Grinch's small liver grew three sizes that day!
And the minute his liver felt up to the fight,
He whizzed up to Yorkville in the night's fading
light,
He brought back the CD, bought some beer for the
host,
And he, HE THE HIPSTER GRINCH, made a holiday toast!
