T’was the night before Christmas, of 2009.
Pre-flight preparations were going just fine.
The gifts were all loaded, tied in and tied twice.
The coal and the toys labeled naughty and nice.
So I went back inside, sat with old Mrs. Claus
For our pre-flight alone time—one eggnog two straws.
We sat on the couch, and I took off my shoes.
I said “What should we watch?”
She said “How ‘bout Fox News?”
“I don’t want to watch news—all that damage and dreck.”
She said “This isn’t news. It’s a man named Glen Beck.
All the folks down there watch. Claim he’s rightfully scared.”
“Scared of what?” I inquired. “Sit back. Be prepared.”
So I looked at this fellow. He didn’t seem tough.
Just a regular guy, neither naughty nor gruff.
Just a nice looking fellow so simple, so meek.
Thought I saw—there it was—a small tear on his cheek.
“I’m sorry, dear viewers.” He spoke from the heart.
“But those leftists are tearing our country apart!
They want something for nothing. Don’t think of the bill.
With their secret agenda of peace and good will.
Don’t let them fool you, don’t fall for their ploy.
They mean Marxist regime when they say love and joy.
Don’t give something for nothing or just cause they ask.
If they come up to beg, you must take them to task.
‘May I please have a bike? Could I get Action Bob?’
Tell that toddler cum Trotsky ‘Bug off! Get a job!’
Merry Christmas we say, that’s the Christmas we know.
When we’re singing White Christmas, we ain’t thinking snow.
Well, as fun as that was I had work to get done.
Had some gifts to deliver before break of sun.
I shook off my Snuggie and reached for my boot
When my wife screamed “You think you’re still going, old coot?
Did you hear what he said? What they’re trying to do?
All those things he described? He was talking to you!
Is there snow in your ears, you incompetent poop?
You’re not Jolly Saint Nick; you’re a Communist dupe!
You are your workers fill hundreds of shelves
Taking work from God-fearing American elves.
You don’t see the erosion, the moral decay.
See the reindeer sneak out by the stable to ‘play.’
And Rudolph, that red-nose you trust in the night
Got that nose from a pound of Afghanistan White!
You’re their best propaganda; they’re laughing at you.
Oh. . . Feliz Navidad means “We’re coming for you!”
“But that guy’s a tool! He’s a regular Scrooge!”
“I would rather be that than a Che-loving Stooge!”
Then she snatched up my boots and my cold-weather junk
And locked them all up in her grandmother’s trunk.
And that’s when I knew that she meant what what I heard.
So I picked up my Snuggie then flipped her the bird.
And she heard me exclaim, as I walked to my bed:
“I’m cancelling the cable; watch Oprah instead.”