Ryan Seacrest and the Christmas Curse (A Birthday Poem)

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Ryan Seacrest

T’was the night before Christmas, 37 years ere

Down in Dunwoody, Georgia, where the snowfall is rare

Though winter’d not visit, despite the townspeople’s behest

Santa did bring a gift to the family Seacrest

Into the world sprung young Ryan on that Christmas Eve

Knowing then not a lick of the mark he would leave

A boy of small stature, but smile so wide

He’d set out to become his town’s Christmas pride

He’d perform from the get-go, at home and at school

He even made radio — all thanks to his yule

But what he couldn’t know then was a truth harsh and terse:

Ryan’s Christmastime birthday would be a Christmastime curse

Young Seacrest would soon come to leave his Southern neighborhood

To bring wintery magic to the great Hollywood

But though he was his suburb’s own holiday icon, no doubt

Seacrest would contend with the big guns from there on out

Santa’s the true pride of Christmas, a figure so spectacular

Jesus as well, but let’s keep it secular

How could Ryan compete with a man so revered?

He didn’t have flying reindeer, could not grow a beard

But Seacrest would never be outdone by St. Nick

He’d take every job — yeah, that’d do the trick

He’d join up with Fox to host American Idol

But this wasn’t enough to earn him his desired title

So more jobs he’d gather, through more boundaries he’d tear

Though some were short lived, like American Juniors and On-Air

Still, he’d not quit — in himself, he believed

And soon, he’d be rocking many a New Years Eve

He’d visit Red Carpets, correspond with Today

Produce 15 shows for his old pal Kim K

And still, Seacrest was not safe from the occasional bashing

Like Joel McHale’s jabs, or Sacha Baron Cohen’s ashing

But even with celebrity snark making his journey tough

So many jokes about him and his love, Julianne Hough

Seacrest keeps smiling, keeps taking new roles

Bringing joy and entertainment to innumerable souls

So perhaps we were wrong (though saying that makes us miffed)

Maybe his Christmastime birth is no curse, but a gift

For it charged him to be a Santa all his own

Delivering yearlong merriment to American homes

A more ambitious young man you’re not likely to find

Next time you’re mocking his height, just keep that in mind

So at this time of year, we think of our friend Ryan

Who has made it to age 37 (no thanks to the Mayans)

And as we close our poem now, we’ve one last thing to say:

Merry Christmas to all — and to Seacrest, Happy Birthday.

[Photo Credit: Twitter]

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