Merry Christmas from the Posts of Christmas Past

Greetings, gentle readers,

I am not certain that thou hast met me afore. It is I, Sir Ten-to-Three, who once wast Baby New Year, in the year of our Lord 1023, the year in which all fairy tales you know from thine childer days traspired. Some time ago, I hadest the greatest privelege to escort the Baby New Year 19-Wonderful on his travails and adventures, and the lords of Rankin and Bass didst maketh a now neglected film aboutest it. Perhaps thou havest seenst it?

That ist me, on the righteth, afore the fire-nosed beast.

The King of This Blog, long mayest he reignest, askedethest me to droppeth by to relateth to thou the Christmas posts of years past that haveth gracest His Majesty’s blog. And whatest the hellest, itest ist not liketh Hollywood hath been knocking downst mine dooreth since; so, I said him yea.

In the year of our lord 2005, the King didst issue a Christmas proclomation concerning a gift he wished to receive bearing the images of unholy cow abominations dressed as knights. I hast it on good authority that his keen ploy didst succeedst, though the coupons attached to the ill-gotten calender, never were they usedest.

In the year of our lord 2008, the King did mark Christmas Day with this image of a holy nativity. I doth not aknow what this is, i’truth, for in mine kingdom on the Archipelago of Last Years, we never mention this Newborn King, though we dost appeareth to be medieval.

Likewise in the year 2008, some marginalia concerning the same subject were postedeth here.

Across many years, the King hath caused his scribes to produce festive posts on months. Behold, these posts on December from 2008, 2009 part one, and 2009 part 2.

This year, as thy well knowst, the King of the Blog hast spoken of Uther’s Christmas Knight and of something else having to do with the visitation of three wise men to ere mentioned king. I didst attend a party at the abode of this noble knight Cleges, and dost not be fooled or have thine eyes coveredeth. Four of five stars, no more. The miniature cocktail sausages wast as cold as the heart of the dread beast Aeon (afore mine adventures with the noble 19-Wonderful).

19-Wonderful on mine Island of the Year 1023. Good times.

Comments on this entry are closed.

  • Γοργώ

    Þyn Englisshe herteþ myn heved.

    • Sir Ten-To-Three

      Egads, odds bodkins, and zounds! Thy criticism dost wound, sir knight.  It dost wound terrible, forsooth, terrible.

      • Γοργώ

        Good sere, I cry yow mercy.  I xuld a wretyn, “_Yowr_ Englysche herteþ myn hevyd.”

  • Maria

    Thou art hilarious!

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