Engineers for the Integrity of Broadcast Auxiliary Services Spectrum

An EIBASS Night Before Christmas

With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore and Henry Livingston

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even an EIBASS mouse;
The NPRM and ex parte letters were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that Saint BAS Spectrum soon would be there.
The R&Os were nestled all snug in their ECFS files,
While visions of Recon Orders danced in their heads.
And Chris in his 'kerchief, and Barry and Vinny in our caps,
had just settled down for a long e-mail nap,
When out on the spectrum commons there arose such a clatter,
we sprang to our computers to see what was the matter.
Away to the Internet we flew like a flash,
Tore past the ECFS home page and threw up the cache.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen woe
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But an EIBASS sleigh pulled by nine engineers.
With two drivers, one short and skinny and one tall and wide,
I new in a moment it must be Saint R and Saint E.
More rapid than eagles their coursers they came,
And they whistled and shouted, and called them by name:

"Now Kenneth! Now Paul! Now Gerry and Bill!
On, Mike M. and Mike N., on Howard and Karl and Burt!
To the top of the ECFS! To the top of ex parte!
Now file away! file away! file away all!
As short comments that before EIBASS filings fly,
When met with an obstacle, mount to the reply comments sky,
So up to the docket-tops the coursers they flew,
With a sleigh full of direct but not strident comments, and Saint R and Saint E, too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the Daily Digest the prancing and
pawing of each astute burden of proof.
As I drew in my head and was turning around, down the Internet EIBASS
came with a bound. It was dressed all in "formal," from its start to its end,
albeit its filing receipt was all tarnished with ashes and "send."
A bundle of comments they had flung on their backs, and they looked like
peddlers just opening their packs.
Their eyes– how they twinkled! Their dimples how merry! Their cheeks
were like roses, their noses like cherry!

Their droll little mouths were drawn up like a bow, and beards on their chins
were as white spaces as snow. The stump of an iPhone they held tight in
their teeth, and the RF emitted circled their heads like damped RF sheaths.
They had broad faces and one quite a belly, that shook, when he laughed like
a bowlful of jelly. Both experienced and SBE certified, two right jolly old
elfs, I laughed when I saw them, in spite of myself.
Two winks of their eyes and twists of their heads, soon gave me to know I
had nothing to dread. They spoke not a word, but went straight to their
work, meeting comment deadlines without going beserk.
And laying their cursors to the side of the "file comments" close, and giving
a nod up the Internet they rose.
They sprang to their sleigh, to their team gave a whistle,
and away they all flew like the like a BS-seeking missile.
But I heard them exclaim, ere they drove out of sight, "Merry Spectrum
Integrity to all, and to all a good-night."