To my liberal friends: Please accept my best wishes for a politically correct winter solstice holiday (and I hope you aren't offended by the above photo. If you are, get over yourself).
To everyone else: Merry Christmas.
The Night Before Liberal Christmas
'Twas the night before the non-religion-specific secular winter holiday,
When all through the federally-funded Section 8 house,
Not a creature was stirring,
Not even a small Rodent-American;
The flame-retardant UL-approved stockings were hung ten feet from the biannually inspected chimney as required by law with care,
In hopes that Obama's Wealth Redistribution Czar soon would be there;
The audio and video monitored children were nestled all snug in their safety beds,
While visions of Michelle Obama's healthy food choices danced in their heads;
And my baby mamma in her 'kerchief,
And I in my backwards cap,
Had just settled down after smoking some medical marijuana for a nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I dialed 9-1-1 to see what was the matter.
Away to the safety-barred window I flew like a flash,
But the shutters don't open, neither does the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen climate change snow,
Gave the lustre of an ozone-depleted mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my red wondering eyes should appear,
But a government sleigh, and eight drug-sniffing reindeer,
With a little old driver, so slow and un-quick,
I knew in a moment it must be Obama's Wealth Redistribution Czar.
More rapid than flying endangered species his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Daschle! now, Pelosi! now, Sanders and Reid!
On, Schumer! on Rangel! on, Frank and, um,...Ileana Ros-Lehtinen!
To the top of the ramped-in-compliance-with-the-Disabilities-Act porch! to the top of the nerf-covered wall!
Now inspect away! inspect away! inspect away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the federally funded Section 8 house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of regulations, and Obama's Wealth Redistribution Czar too..
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the solar roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
(no animals were harmed in the making of this poem, so back off PETA)
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Obama's Wealth Redistribution Czar came with a bound.
He was dressed all in camo, from his head to his foot,
And his uniform was all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of regulations he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a commie just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! (dude was obviously plastered)
His little Nazi mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the climate change snow;
The stump of his crack pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of sugar-free all-fruit organic gelatin product.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old bureaucratic elf,
And I cried when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had much to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Writing citations; he sure was a jerk,
After I greased his palm he laid his finger aside his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like lame ducks from a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy non-religion-specific secular winter holiday to all, and to all a good-night."
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