
My son knows a little bit about social media. And occasionally, he looks over my shoulder when I have time for Twitter. 
"So what's Twitter really like?" he asked me yesterday. 
I could have explained, as some suggest, how the tools are used for conversations and those conversations are dependent, in part, on who you follow or who follows you. 
But given the spirit of the season, I simply surmised that "it's a lot like the night before Christmas."
"How so?" 
"How so, indeed," I said. "Take the last two weeks for instance …" 
***
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all 'cross the Web, 
No Tweeter was blogging, not even 
Perez.
The postings were done, auto-scheduled with care, 
each blogger hoping that St. Click would soon be there. 
Ike Piggot and his Personal Brand were all snug in their beds, 
Dreaming up analogies to help fill some heads; 
And 
Geek Mommy in her 'kerchief, and 
Armano in his 'cap,'
had just settled down for a two-and-a-half hour nap. 
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, 
Mack Collier sprang to his screen to see what was the matter.
Away to the feed, 
Lisa Hoffman flew like a 
flash, 
Tore open her browser, and started looking at 
Mash. 
The 
blog drama du jour was on PR embargoes 
Spurred on by 
Arrington with 
new media in tow. 
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, 
But a miniature man, and eight 
tiny urls, oh dear. 
Spurred on by their 
social networks, so lively and quick, 
I knew in an instant it would be 
BC's pick.
More rapid than viral, with 
widgets they came, 
And they whistled, and shouted, and called each other by name;
"Now, 
Eggertson! now, 
Maltoni! now, 
Sledzik and 
Ryan!
On, 
Lewis! on 
Vargas! on, 
Kaufman and 
Gylon!
To the top of all searches! To the top of all lists!
Now Digg away! Digg away! Digg away all!"
Compared to all topics, those 
favorites did fly,
They bypassed all critics with an odd ROI,
So up on those memes, with conversations they flew,
Stumbling some posts, and 
delicious saves too.
And then, in a twinkling, though 
Chapel thought it a spoof,
Did 
Jeremiah say social media is recession proof?
Even I drew my mouse back, and was turning around,
When down the chimney came 
Brogan in a bound.
He was dressed all in leather, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were a mix between 
Web Betty and woot;
A bundle of Kmart toys he had flung on his back,
Made him look like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how 
Jacob!
His cheeks were like 
Megan, his nose like 
Chris Lynn!
And his droll little mouth was drawn up like a 
bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a stogie held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a 
Jason Falls belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a 
Shel Israel elf,
(
Basile laughed when he saw him, in spite of himself;)
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Let other 
brand builders know, they have nothing to dread;
So he spoke not a word, and went straight to his work,
Filled most of the stockings (except for some jerks),
And then, laying his finger aside of his nose,
Giving a nod, mentioned 
Izea, his host;
And he sprang off to 
backtype, or some other 
system,
And away they all flew like the 
Rowse of a 
thicket.
And then I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."
***
"It's like that every week?" 
"Yeah, pretty much." 
Happy Holidays.