With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore.
'Twas the week before finals, and all through Medford,
Not a Jumbo was working, not even a nerd;
The textbooks were shut on their desks with great glee,
"Why study," they asked, "When we have TV?"
The students were nestled all snug in their suite,
While visions of reality served as a treat;
And ladies in their PJs, and I in some flannel,
Had just settled down to choosing a channel.
When on NBC there arose such a roar,
Ivana sprung on the street 'cause she was a whore,
Away went the tramp, who crassly dropped trou,
"You're fired," said Donald, with his large furrowed brow.
The moon on the breast of the luscious Summer,
Gave a glare off the screen; FOX made us dumber.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a commercial break; so up the dial we veered.
With a remote trigger finger, so lively and quick,
I was able to find MTV with one flick,
On air was "Laguna," a show with acclaim,
My buddy adored it, she called them by name:
"Now, Christina! Now, Lo! Now Talan and Stephen!"
On, Trey and on Morgan! On LC and Kristin!"
To the top of the class! To the top of the dune!
Now graduate, graduate! Can you believe it, it's June!"
Next up on the sched was Real World in Philly,
This was season 15; it's getting tired and silly.
So up to the bar-top, to the liquor buffet,
With the nympho named Sarah and the dixie MJ.
And then, in a twinkling, we heard o'er next door,
Was the dweeb typing a paper for Poli Sci 4.
As I turned in my hand, the brass plated knob,
The dork pulled an "Alt/Tab;" he wasn't doing his job.
His face turned all red, as he knew he was wrong,
"I got hooked into Minesweeper, FreeCell and Pong."
A bundle of books he had stacked on his desk,
His room was disheveled in a style grotesque.
"Come join us," I beckoned. He reacted with joy.
"Alrighty, why not? I'll jump in on the ploy."
The laptop closed shut, papers piled in a stash,
The geek, the ladies and I resumed watching trash.
The clock chimed eleven, we knew it was due,
To watch Jonny Stewart, a comic, a Jew.
He had a big head, and a hairdo to match,
That shook when he laughed like a bushel of thatch.
He was skinny and short, a right jolly ol' bloke,
And I laughed when I heard a Bush-bashing joke,
A wink of his eye and lib'ral bias we're fed,
Soon let us know I had all things to dread.
The RA came soon, he told us to work.
"Quiet Hours," he said; I called him a jerk.
And laying a finger on my surly chest,
He dared me to repeat, even in jest.
Then on the Teev, was the classic "Blind Date,"
'Stead of fighting, I said, "Let us Pro-crastinate."
We sprang to the couch, we slapped our high fives,
And away we laughed at other folks' lives.
To all Jumbos I say, before our futures look bleak,
"Easy finals to all, and to all a good week!"
