Around the big top

Twisting up a Holiday classic


Since President Bush stepped up and pushed the auto loan through, I can’t write my original column I wanted to write about him missing his last chance to stand up for the little guy. I thought for sure when he was calling for “orderly” bankruptcy that he was going to let the whole industry crumble, but he impressed me.

That’s why I dedicated this poem, “The Night Before Christmas in the White House,” to number 43, or as I like to call him “dubya.”

Here goes nothing.

‘Twas the night before Christmas in the White House, not a creature was stirring but the President’s spouse.

Preparing for festivities in the world famous homestead, reassuring the President the Iraqi journalist never meant to throw a shoe at his head.

And Bush couldn’t sleep as he waited for Santa to come around, at the other end of the house Cheney slumbered as usual – hanging upside down.

Suddenly in the Oval Office there was a loud BANG, “what’s happening?” dubya said, “Terrorists!” he exclaimed.

Flanked by secret service men he rushed to the room, “Hey fat man” he shouted. “Guess what, yer doomed!”

But when the terrorist turned Mr. Bush was surprised, for it Santa Claus himself, W. couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Santa is that you?” was all the eloquent pres. could spit out, then seeing an empty bag, he asked “How come you’re not getting any gifts out?”

“Mr. President,” St. Nick said. “I couldn’t fulfill your wish. … For you see,” the jolly one added. “You’re on my naughty list.”

“But no!” Bush replied. “It just can’t be!” What about the loan I pushed through for the big three?”

“It was too little too late,” Santa snapped back with an angry shout. “Plus for seven years I gave you the benefit of the doubt!

“Do you really think you were good? Look deep in your soul, I honestly thought you would unilaterally attack the North Pole!

“After 9/11 you invaded Iraq while Osama found refuge in a cave, and you let New Orleans get swept away in a wave!

Santa tried to go on about the economy but Cheney flew into the room as bat, then changed to a human with large fangs and shouted “Enough of that!”

He approached Santa with a black hood and water in a pail, but Santa was near the chimney and said “Sorry boys, gotta bail!”

“Another terrorist got away,” Dick growled to George, he ordered snipers to take aim as Santa’s sleigh headed north.

They shot blindly wondering exactly what they were shooting at, Mr. President and VP considered how’d they’d attack.

“Should I call Donald Rumsfeld?” Cheney asked his boss. “Nah,” he replied. “All is not loss.

“Even though not getting presents really makes my blood boil, I’m not mad, remember, we both work for big oil!”

The powerful men laughed merrily as Santa doubled back in his sleigh, and they were immediately hushed to see if Santa had something to say.

“I know times are hard,” St. Nick shouted for all to hear. “But Merry Christmas, be happy, things will be better next year.

“No longer will Americans feel alone, disenfranchised and estranged — for this administration is over, January 20th brings change!”


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