Instalanchy

Link to a couple of Tacitus posts and all of a sudden every site referral comes from there. I will therefore take it as a sign for... hmm, a poem seems appropriate, although I canna say why.

Thus, I give you a commemorative poem from my past blogging activity:

Instalanchy
(With apologies to... come on, everybody knows the poem I butchered.)

'Twas blogging, and with pithy posts
Aspired to nimble rising fame:
All peaceful were my remote hosts,
And my soul dead to shame.

"Incite the Instalanche, my son!
The hits that rise, the folks you catch!
Beware the flamewars, though, and shun
The furious trolls you catch!"

I took my TypePad blog in hand:
Long time elusive link I sought --
Which found me by Technorati,*
And there I schemed and thought.

And, as in schemish thought I stood,
The Instalanche, with links of flame,
Came googling through the neighborhood,
Heh'ndeeding as it came!

One, two! One, two! clickthrough, clickthrough
My keyboard keys went clicky-clack.
The link I read, and with swelled head
I went and trackback'd back.

"And, did thou gain the Instalanche?
Enjoy the rush, my blogging boy!
O link-fill'd day! Callooh! Callay!'
I noted in my joy.

'Twas blogging, and with pithy posts
Aspired to nimble rising fame:
All peaceful were my remote hosts,
And my soul dead to shame.

*Cut me some slack, I'm working without a net here.

Comments

[James Casey]

That's a dem fine post, sir; a dem fine post.

[Edward]

Awesome poetraparody, Moe...

[Jordan]

Now that's a classic, Moe. Blogger's Vanity Fair, indeed. (Though I'd work on the scansion of the last line, the only place where your rhythm stumbles.)

[Moe Lane]

"Though I'd work on the scansion of the last line, the only place where your rhythm stumbles."

Ayup. I'm going to let it percolate until tonight. I should fix that lame 'rhyme' on the second stanza, too.

[Jordan]

Heh. Catch rhymes with catch unusually well, no? Funny I didn't notice at all until you pointed it out. Hm. Latch. Snatch (visual rhyme at least). Stretch. Ketch. Ketch(up). Wretch. Lech(er). Fletch.

[wanders off, muttering much like an engineering geek memorizing logarithms.]

[Anarch]

Brillig, Moe. Just plain brillig.

[Jordan]

Ben Domenech?

Haven't a clue how to pronounce the name.

[Jesurgislac]

Moe, you outgrabe yourself. Indeed you do, sir.