The other day I posted "Twas the Neocon Christmas", which jerked the right-wingers' chain. In the interest of fairness, and pissing everybody off this holiday season, here's the flip side--
'Twas the night before Christmas,
and all through the pad
Not a hipster was tripping,
not even old Dad;
Eco-tote sacks were hung
by the chimney with care,
In hope that the Welfare checks
soon would be there;
The children were nestled
all smug in their beds,
While visions of Stevia-plums
danced in their heads;
And mamma in her Earth-shoes
and I in my tweed,
Had just settled down
for a good hit of weed,
When out on the lawn
there arose such a clatter,
I turned on mainstream media
to see if it mattered.
Away to the window I wandered all stoned,
Tore open the shutters of my Fannie Mae home.
There was moon on the chest of the new-fallen snow
(It's not PC to talk about titties, you know),
When, what through my rose-colored
glasses was seen,
A foreign import hybrid, and eight Welfare queens,
With a little old driver, so correct and elite,
I knew in a moment it must be Saint Keith.
More rapid than handouts, his worshippers came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, MLK! Now Chavez! now, Leary and AlGore!
On, Mao! on Lenin! on, Barack, go spend more!
To the ghost of Karl Marx! Free Abortions on call!
Now Save the Trees! Tax and Spend! Healthcare for all!"
As trans-genders that for the Gay Marriage Act chant,
When they meet a conservative, whine, snarl and rant,
So up to the house-top those liberals they flew,
With a load of tax dollars, and St. Olbermann too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard it so sweet
That prancing and pawing, like gays in the street.
As I held out my hand for distributed wealth,
Down the chimney St. Olbermann slithered with stealth.
He wore organic cottons, from his head to his foot,
And he filled both my hands as he said 'Here's the loot';
A bundle of stimulus was slung on his back,
And he looked like a Congressman, opening his PAC.
His wit-- how it sparkled! his speech was a honey!
His checks were all written, with working folks' money!
His Marx-quoting mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the flush of his cheeks was a self-righteous glow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the hash-smoke encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad grin and a socialist agenda,
That showed when he laughed like a real tax & spender.
He was chummy and slick, a tree-hugging old elf,
And I went for his bullshit, in spite of myself;
With a twist of his head and a leftie eye-winker
He made me so glad I'm a real Kool-Aide drinker;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Rewrote the Constitution; then turned with a jerk,
Then laying his finger aside of his nose,
And snorting some coke, up the chimney he rose;
He bowed toward Mecca, to avoid confrontation,
And away they all flew like a global-warming demonstration.
But I heard him proclaim, as away they all swept,
"Happy Christmas to all-- at least all that's far-Left."
[Wishing you all a very pinko (or even rainbow) Christmas]