The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #59418 Message #2460411
Posted By: Amos
08-Oct-08 - 02:38 PM
Thread Name: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
The outlook wasn't brilliant for the MOAB team that day:
The thread was sagging toward the end, and Amos was away,
And when Rapaire was taken over, and Little Hawk went dead,
A pall-like silence fell upon the lovers of the thread.
A straggling few jumped off the line, to music, while the rest
Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought, "If only Amos would return from th distant Eastern coast...
We'd put up even money now, if Amos would just post."
But Amos wasn't back yet, just Donuel and Rapaire,
And the former was hoodoo, while the latter put on airs;
So upon that stricken multitude sat glumness, fear and dread,
For there seemed but little chance of Amos posting to the thread.
But Donuel made a funny post, to the wonderment of many,
And Rapaire, the often pompous, wrote a thing both bright and zany;
And when the dust had lifted, and men saw what had transpired,
Old Mom was hanging half-way up, while the Getaway crew retired.
Then from five thousand throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It pounded on the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Amos, mighty Amos, was returning to the 'Cat.
There was ease in Amos' manner as he sat before his keys;
There was pride in Amos'bearing as he typed up quite a breeze.
And when, responding to the cheers, he nodded his wise head,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Amos at the thread.
Ten thousand eyes were reading as he pressed his first "Submit";
Five thousand tongues applauded as he showed his winsome wit;
Then while the others shouted out, to see our Mom raised high,
Some caterwauling Mugwump snide said the post was just a lie!
"The man's a frasud!", the Mugwump said. "This isn't Amos' style!
The typos are too many!" But Amos only smiled.
He shook his wrists and typed again, the screen was blazing bright.
The crowd stood up and shook the house! But the bum said, "That ain't right!"
From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on stern and distant shore;
"Kill him! Kill the Mugwump!" shouted some one on the stand;
And it's likely they'd have killed him had not Amos raised his hand.
With a smile of Christian charity his friendly visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the thread go on;
He stretched his typing fingers,, and once more the post rang true;
But the Mugwump, blinded by his sins, again said, "That ain't you!"
"Fraud!" cried the maddened Mugwump, and and the crowd yelled "You're the Fraud!"
But one scornful look from Amos and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they his brain cells strain,
And they knew that Amos wouldn't let old Mom fall down again.
The post has flown, it's language round, and full, and rich and true;
The post appears, and every voice as one calls "It IS you".
And now the Mugwump falters, and he falls to a verbal hammer
As Amos--mighty Amos--deftly straightens out his grammar.
With effortless skill he rectifies the Mugwump's definitions,
And using polysyllables, displays his erudition,
'Til none can doubt the cure has come, for all their fear and dread:
'Tis Amos, mighty Amos, once again is on the thread.
Now in this favored MOAB land the sun is shining bright;
Now the guitars are ringing out, and MOAB hearts are light,
And MOAB men are laughing, and MOAB children shout;
Except crestfallen Mugwump, missed by none, who done struck out.