How The Googler Stole Christmas

By jameszol
Published on December 21, 2007

Every SEM Down in Sphinnville Liked Paid Links a lot…
But the Googler, who lived just north of Sphinnville, Did NOT!
The Googler hated Paid Links! The whole Paid Link 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 shoes were too tight.
But I think that the most likely reason of all,
May have been that his spam team was two sizes too small.
Whatever the reason, His spam team or his shoes,
He stood there on Linking Eve, hating the SEMs,
Staring down from his cave with a sour, Googley frown,
At the warm lighted windows below in their town.
For he knew every SEM down in Sphinnville beneath,
Was busy now, advertising a website wreath.
“And they’re writing their ‘08 budgets!” he snarled with a sneer,
“Tomorrow is Paid Links! It’s practically here!”
Then he growled, with his Googler fingers nervously drumming,
“I MUST find some way to stop Paid Links from coming!”
For Tomorrow, he knew, all the SEM girls and boys,
Would wake bright and early. They’d rush for their links!
And then! Oh, the links! Oh, the links!
Links! Links! Links!
That’s one thing he hated! The PAID LINKS!
LINKS! LINKS! LINKS!
Then the SEMs, young and old, would sit down to a feast.
And they’d feast! And they’d feast! And they’d FEAST!
FEAST! FEAST! FEAST!
They would feast on Goog-pudding, and rare Goog-roast beast.
Which was something the Googler couldn’t stand in the least!
And THEN They’d do something He liked least of all!
Every SEM down in Sphinnville, the tall and the small,
Would stand close together, with Paid Link bells ringing.
They’d stand hand-in-hand. And the SEMs would start pinging!
They’d ping! And they’d ping! And they’d PING!
PING! PING! PING!
And the more the Googler thought of this SEM Paid Link Scheme,
The more the Googler thought, “I must stop this whole theme!”
“Why, for three years I’ve put up with it now!”
“I MUST stop this Paid LInk from coming! But HOW?”
Then he got an idea! An awful idea!
THE Googler GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA!
“I know just what to do!” The Googler laughed in his throat.
And he made a quick Black hat and a cloak.
And he chuckled, and clucked, “What a great Googlery trick!”
“With this cloak and this hat, I look just like a webmaster!”
“All I need is a website…” The Googler looked around.
But, since good websites are scarce, there was none to be found.
Did that stop the old Googler? No! The Googler simply said,
“If I can’t find a website, I’ll make one instead!”
So he called his Plexmate, Max. Then he took some link juice,
And he tied a big TBPR on the top of his site.
THEN He loaded some content And some old sponsored spots,
On a ramshackle column And he hitched up old Max.
Then the Googler said, “Giddap!” And the site started down,
Toward the homes where the SEMs Lay asnooze in their town.
All their windows were dark. Quiet snow filled the air.
All the SEMs were all dreaming sweet dreams without care.
When he came to the first little link broker on the square.
“This is stop number one,” the old Googlery hissed,
And he climbed to the roof, empty pages in his fist.
Then he slid down the signup. A rather tight pinch.
But, if Webmasters could do it, then so could the Googler, inch by inch.
He got stuck only once, for a moment or two.
Then he stuck his head out of the fireplace flue.
Where the little Link Selling sites all hung in a row.
“These link sellers,” he grinned, “are the first things to go!”
Then he slithered and slunk, with a smile most unpleasant,
Around the whole room, and he took every visible PR!
Pop guns! And bicycles! Roller skates! Drums!
Checkerboards! Tricycles! Popcorn! And plums!
And he stuffed them in bags. Then the Googler, very nimbly,
Stuffed all the sites, one by one, up the chimney!
Then he slunk to the paid reviews. He took the SEMs’ feast!
He took the Goog-pudding! He took the roast beast!
He cleaned out that icebox as quick as a flash.
Why, that Googler even took their last can of Goog-hash!
Then he stuffed all the links up the chimney with glee.
“And NOW!” grinned the Googler, “I will stuff up the tree!”
And the Googler grabbed the tree, and he started to shove,
When he heard a small sound like the coo of a dove.
He turned around fast, and he saw a small SEM!
Little Cindy-Lou SEM, who was not more than two.
The Googler had been caught by this tiny SEM daughter,
SEM had got out of bed for a cup of cold water.
She stared at the Googler and said, “Googler, why,”
“Why are you taking our Linking tree? WHY?”
But, you know, that old Googler was so smart and so slick,
He thought up a lie, and he thought it up quick!
“Why, my sweet little tot,” the fake Webmaster lied,
“There’s a link on this tree that won’t pass PR on one side.”
“So I’m taking it home to my workshop, my dear.”
“I’ll fix it up there. Then I’ll bring it back here.”
And his fib fooled the child. Then he patted her head,
And he got her a drink and he sent her to bed.
And when CindyLou SEM went to bed with her cup,
HE went to the chimney and stuffed the tree up!
Then the last thing he took was the log for their fire!
Then he went up the chimney, himself, the old liar.
On their walls he left nothing but hooks and some wire.
And the one speck of food That he left in the house,
Was a crumb that was even too small for a mouse.
Then He did the same thing To the other SEMs’ sites
Leaving crumbs Much too small For the other SEMs’ mites!
It was quarter past dawn… All the SEMs, still a-bed,
All the SEMs, still asnooze when he packed up his sled,
Packed it up with their links! The anchor text! The titles!
The tags! And the tinsel! The trimmings! The trappings!
Three thousand feet up! Up the side of Mt. Crumpit,
He rode with his load to the tiptop to dump it!
“PoohPooh to the SEMs!” he was Googlishly humming.
“They’re finding out now that no Paid Links is coming!”
“They’re just waking up! I know just what they’ll do!”
“Their mouths will hang open a minute or two,
Then the SEMs down in Sphinnville will all cry BooHoo!”
“That’s a noise,” grinned the Googler, “That I simply MUST hear!”
So he paused. And the Googler put his hand to his ear.
And he did hear a sound rising over the snow.
It started in 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 Sphinnville! The Googler popped his eyes!
Then he shook! What he saw was a shocking surprise!
Every SEM down in Sphinnville, the tall and the small,
Was linking! Without any visible paying at all!
He HADN’T stopped Paid Links from coming! IT CAME!
Somehow or other, it came just the same!
And the Googler, with his Googler-feet ice-cold in the snow,
Stood puzzling and puzzling: “How could it be so?”
“It came with out nofollow! It came without tags!”
“It came without packages, boxes or bags!”
And he puzzled three hours, till his puzzler was sore.
Then the Googler thought of something he hadn’t before!
“Maybe Paid Links,” he thought, “doesn’t come from a store.”
“Maybe Paid Links…perhaps…means a little bit more!”
And what happened then? Well…in Sphinnville they say,
That the Googler’s small spam team Grew three sizes that day!
And the minute his spam team didn’t feel quite so tight,
He whizzed with his load through the bright morning light,
And he brought back the toys! And the food for the feast!
And he, HE HIMSELF! The Googler carved the roast beast!

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