BlackRIPTIDE

‘Twas the night before Christmas, When all through D.A., Dear Santy was browsing (‘stead of filling his sleigh). The deviants were nestled All snug in their arts, While visions of masterpieces Danced in their hearts. Back at his workshop, There arose such a clatter, Santa sprang from his desk chair To see what was the matter. An elf skidded into Santa’s computer pavilion, Shouting, “We’ve forgotten some gifts! About 44 million!” The jolly elf’s eyes Grew three sizes that day. “How could this happen? There’s no room on the sleigh!” “There’s that list you checked tw