A little Christmas satire that didn’t turn out as well as I’d hoped. But I already typed it out and everything so …
Consider this an open thread.
A Lame Duck Christmas
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when scared like a mouse,
A lame duck was stirring, Both in Senate and House.
November elections, still hung in the air
(though most of the Democrats just didn’t care.)
Their omnibus nestled, all snug and unread,
And visions of pork barrels danced in their heads.
San Fran Nan in her kercheif, with gums all aflap,
Had a DREAM their agenda they still could enact.
Though the voters had risen and made such a clatter
To Nancy and Harry that just did not matter.
They wish for no asking, and hope you will tell,
and card check and START would both also be swell.
The moon on the breast of the fresh DC snow,
did naught to dissuade, “It is Green we must go!”
When what to their wondering eyes should appear,
But a deal to keep George Bush’s tax cuts next year.
With a little estate tax, (they called it a hitch)
They wasted no moment, yelled “cuts for the rich!”
More rapid than eagles, objections they came,
they hollered and shouted, class warfare the game.
“The wealthy, the wealthy, we really should get ’em!”
“Passing wealth to their children, we just musn’t let ’em!”
“From the top to the bottom, from the big to the small.
We should tax away! Tax away! Tax away all!”
“As dry leaves that before global warming do fry,
so we must bleed the earners, we must bleed them dry!”
And there in both Houses, the battle it grew,
to tax all the wealthy. And oh yes, you too.
Like most of their efforts, good sense it did lack,
A last-minute straw for America’s back.
While citizens holiday cheer did indulge
In Washington egos and budgets would bulge.
The stump of our fortunes they held in their teeth,
And the smoke of the scorched earth hung thick like a wreath.
They would empty your pocket, and also your belly
The best gift this year, might just be KY-Jelly.
The lame duck was grumpy and quick to the fight,
to achieve an agenda, no matter what’s right.
With tax breaks and spending still up in the air,
The people knew not how their fortunes would fare.
But lest you despair of this vision so bleak,
It isn’t a window, it’s merely a peek.
The future’s not written, their mission could fail.
The will of the people may still yet prevail.
And much like a wandering mystery missile,
Dem plans may drift off, like the down of a thistle.
And then we’d exclaim, after winning the fight
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”