Hanes HallbirnMonday,24 December 2012

The Snap:

It’s Christmas time! For many, this season evokes images of presents, the birth of Jesus, and time together with family. But not me. No, I’m not dreaming of a white Christmas. Instead, I’m dreaming of an angry, piss-drunk Santa who rides into Washington D.C. and slaps the shit out of the politicians who have reached another impasse in negotiations over the so-called Fiscal Cliff (that’s shot number one if you ‘re playing the Fiscal Cliff drinking game, kids, with two more to come).

My dream of The Night Before Christmas goes something like this…

The Download:

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the House
Not a Representative was stirring (many were asleep with a spouse)
The Republicans were excited to cut Medicare,
And hoped that tax cut extensions soon would be there

The Democrats were nestled all snug in their beds
While visions of tax revenues, danced in their heads
With Michelle Obama in her kerchief, and the President in his cap,
They had just settled their brains, for a Fiscal Cliff (!) nap

When out on the Internet there briefly arose such a clatter
That Senators sprang from their bourbons, to see what was the matter
But public concern gave way to apathy, as quick as a flash
And so the politicians went back to shilling for cash

The moon above Washington set the city aglow
Casting light on the inaction of the elected below
When what to their wondering eyes should appear
But a miniature motorcade, eight secret service at the rear

“Take your heads outta your asses, and take them out quick!”
Shouted the motorcade leader, who looked a lot like St. Nick
More rapid than eagles, the politicians came
But not fast enough, so he called them by name

“Now, Obama! Now Boehner! Now Geitner and Biden!
On McConnell! On Pelosi! Someone wake up Paul Ryan!”
To the top of Capitol Hill! To the top — don’t stall!
Now dash away! Dash away! You must heed this call!

As dry gin down a senator’s throat does fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, and throw on a tie.
So up to the House floor the Representatives flew,
With a plan filled with pork, and taxes too.

And then, via a signal, from the dish on my roof
Came more partisan bickering, from each little goof.
As I slapped my forehead, from the inaction I’d found,
Down the House floor St Nicholas came with a bound!

He was dressed all in fur, with an ass-kicking boot on his foot,
And his clothes were tarnished more with whiskey than soot.
With a bundle of compromises, and a whip to crack,
And he looked like a mediator, all hopped up on Jack.

His eyes — full of anger! I’m mean seriously — very!
His fists were clenched — he looked terribly scary!
His droll little mouth let some expletives flow,
And he smacked a Congressman from Texas, just for show.

A joint from Colorado was held tight in his teeth,
And his beard reeked terribly of tequila and beef.
He had broad shoulders and a bit of a belly,
That shook as he staggered, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was slurring and stumbling, a right drunken old elf,
And he barfed on Lamar Smith, and then on himself!
But a clench of his fists, and a twist of his head,
Soon gave the Reps to know they had much to dread.

He shouted curse words, but then went to work,
And tore into the politicians, each little jerk.
And laying his fist into John Boehner’s nose,
And giving a shout, up to the podium he rose!

He berated each politician, his words sharp as a thistle,
And then ran to his sleigh, as fast as a missile.
But I heard him warn, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
“Fix this Fiscal Cliff (!) fast! Or I’ll be back with more spite!”

Hat Tips:

The Night Before Christmas, Image Credit: Wikimedia Commons

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