Archive for December, 2013

You all know the melody, so sing along with the House GOP!

On the First day of Christmas my congress gave to me,
No food stamps for poor families.

On the second day of Christmas my congress gave to me,
Two shut downs
And no food stamps for poor families.

On the third day of Christmas my congress gave to me,
Three investigations, two shut downs,
And no food stamps for poor families.

On the fourth day of Christmas my congress gave to me,
Four whacko birds, three investigations, two shut downs,
And no food stamps for poor families.

On the fifth day of Christmas my congress gave to me,
Five defundings!
Four whacko birds, three investigations, two shutdowns,
And no food stamps for poor families.

On the sixth day of Christmas my congress gave to me,
Six reps-a-lying,
Five defundings!
Four whacko birds, three investigations, two shutdowns,
And no food stamps for poor families.

On the seventh day of Christmas my congress gave to me,
Seven budgets shrinking, six reps-a-lying,
Five defundings!
Four whacko birds, three investigations, two shutdowns,
And no food stamps for poor families.

On the eight day of Christmas my congress gave to me,
Eight tax breaks milking, seven budgets shrinking, six reps-a-lying,
Five defundings!
Four whacko birds, three investigations, two shutdowns,
And no food stamps for poor families.

On the ninth day of Christmas my congress gave to me,
Nine Bachmanns prancing, eight tax breaks milking,
Seven budgets shrinking, six reps-a-lying,
Five defundings!
Four whacko birds, three investigations, two shutdowns,
And no food stamps for poor families.

On the tenth day of Christmas my congress gave to me,
Ten lies a leaping, nine Bachmanns prancing, eight tax breaks milking,
Seven budgets shrinking, six reps-a-lying,
Five defundings!
Four whacko birds, three investigations, two shutdowns,
And no food stamps for poor families.

On the eleventh day of Christmas my congress gave to me,
Eleven birthers piping, ten lies a leaping,
Nine Bachmanns prancing, eight tax breaks milking,
Seven budgets shrinking, six reps-a-lying,
Five defundings!
Four whacko birds, three investigations, two shutdowns,
And no food stamps for poor families.

On the twelfth day of Christmas my congress gave to me,
Twelve scandals drumming, eleven birthers piping, ten lies a leaping,
Nine Bachmanns prancing, eight tax breaks milking,
Seven budgets shrinking, six reps-a-lying,
Five defundings!
Four whacko birds, three investigations, two shutdowns,
And no food stamps for poor families.

How the Liberal Stole Christmas

Posted: December 16, 2013 in The GOP

With great respect for (and apologies to) the great works of Dr. Seuss, I offer my Ode to the War On Christmas:

Every Foxie in Foxville liked Christmas a lot
But the Lib who lived just left of Foxville did not!

The Lib hated Christmas! The whole Christmas season!
Now, please don’t ask why. The ACLU knows the reason.

It could be, perhaps, that his budget was tight.
It could be his heads was not skewed to the right.

But I think that the most likely reason of all
May have been that his heart was just bleeding, that’s all.

But, whatever the reason, his heart or his knees,
He stood there on Christmas Eve hating Foxies,

Staring out from his hybrid with a sour, liberal frown
At the warm loaded weapons below in their town,

For he knew every Foxie down in Foxville beneath

Was busy now hanging their Obama-in-effigy wreath.

“And they’re loading their ammo,” he snarled with a sneer.
“Tomorrow is Christmas! They’ll be shooting the deer”

Then he growled, with his Lib fingers nervously drumming,
“I must find some way to keep Christmas from coming!

For, tomorrow, I know all the blond Fox girls and boys
Will wake bright and early, making Fox and Friends noise!

And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the lies and dumb banter!
If there’s one thing they hate, it’s a big fat Black Santa!

And they’ll shriek squeaks and squeals, racing ’round on their wheels.
They’ll dance with teabaggers tied onto their heels.
They’ll blow their HerbHoovers. They’ll bang their Trickledownies.
They’ll tell their big whoopers. They’ll bang their Benghazies.
They’ll spin their tall tales. They’ll slam Harry Reid.
They’ll beat Hillary Clinton. They’ll slam legal weed.
And they’ll play noisy games like Obamacare Stinks,
A game with death panels and Big Slurpy drinks!
Then Mayor Boehner will make ear-splitting noises galore
Without ever once bringing a bill to the floor!

Then all the Foxies, young and old, will sit down to a feast.
And they’ll feast! And they’ll feast! And they’ll FEAST! FEAST! FEAST! FEAST!

They’ll feast on the old, and they’ll feast on the poor,
A feast that they pay for with tax breaks galore!!

And then they’ll do something I hate most of all!
Every Foxie in Foxville, the tall and the small,

They’ll stand close together, with Christmas bells ringing.
They’ll stand hand-in-hand, as they pray to the Lord
That all the left wingers will wake up with sores

“And they’ll sing! And they’ll sing! And they’d SING! SING! SING! SING!”
And the more the Lib thought of this Fox Christmas Sing,
The more the Lib thought, “I must stop this whole thing!

Why for through all the Bush years I put up with it now!
I must stop Christmas from coming! But how?”

Then he got an idea! An awful idea!
The Lib got a wonderful, awful idea!

“I know just what to do!” The Lib laughed in his throat.
“I’ll make a Black Santy Claus hat and a coat.”

And he chuckled, and clucked, “What a great Liberal trick!
With this coat and this hat, I’ll be old Black Saint Nick!”
“All I need is a reindeer.” The Lib looked around.
But since all the reindeer were hunted, there was none to be found.

Did that stop the Liberal? Hah! The Lib simply said,
“If I can’t find a reindeer, I’ll use my Prius instead!”

Then he loaded some bags and some old empty sacks
On the top of the car with the family dog Max

Then the Lib pressed the peddle and the car started down
Toward the homes where the Foxies lay a-snooze in their town.

All their windows were dark. Foxies hate when it’s light.
All the Foxies were dreaming of a Santa who’s white.
When he came to the first little house of the square.

“This is stop number one,” the old Liberal Claus hissed,
As he climbed to the roof, arm raised with clenched fist.

Then he slid down the chimney, it was really tight, man!.
Almost as tight as a Paul Ryan plan.

He got stuck only once, for a minute or two.
Then he stuck his head out of the fireplace flue

Where the little Foxies guns hung all in a row.
“These guns,” he said, “are the first things to go!”

Then he slithered and slunk, with a smile most unpleasant,
Around the whole room, and took every stuffed pheasant!

Pop guns, filibusters, subpoenas, and cheese!
Checkerboards, tax breaks, their voter ID’s!

And he stuffed them in bags. Then the Lib, very nimbly,
Stuffed all the bags, one by one, up the chimney.
Then he slunk to the icebox. He took the Fox feast!
He took Fox Lie pudding! He took their red meat!

He cleaned out that icebox as quick as a flash.
Why, he even took the last bag of Stand Your Ground hash!

Then he stuffed all the food up the chimney with glee.
“Now,” grinned the Lib, “I will stuff up the tree!”

As the Lib took the tree, as he started his run,
He heard a small sound like the click of a gun.

He turned around fast, and he saw a blond Fox!
Little Megyn-Lou Fox, who’s IQ was like rocks.

She stared at the Lib and said, “Santy Claus, freeze!,
Why are you taking our Fox Christmas tree?”

But, you know, that old Lib was so smart and so slick,
He told her the tree was Obamacare sick!

“Why, my sweet little snot,” the fake Santy Claus said,
“They canceled its policy, this tree may be dead.

So I’m taking it down to the hospital dear.
I’ll buy junk insurance, then I’ll bring it back here.”

And his fib fooled the woman. He patted her head,
And he got her a scotch, and he sent her to bed.

And when Megyn-Lou Fox was in bed with her liquor,
He threw up the tree then climbed up much quicker!

And the one speck of food that he left for the mouse
Was a food stamp that was recently cut by the House.

It was quarter of dawn. All the Foxies in bed,
All the Foxies still snoozing, when he packed up his sled,

Packed it up with their scandals, their rumors, their ranting,
Their proof of wrongdoing, their birthers and yapping!

“Pooh-pooh to the Foxies!” he went liberally humming.
“They’re finding out now that no Christmas is coming!

They’re just waking up! I know just what they’ll do!
They’ll look for their guns and their ammo clips too
Then the Foxies down in Foxville will all cry boo-hoo!

That’s a noise,” grinned the Lib, “that I simply must hear!”
He paused, and the Lib put a hand to his ear.

And he did hear a sound rising over the snow.
It started in low, it was the Fox Sunday Show.
Christmas came just the same, they just cashed in some stocks
And asked for more tax breaks to cushion the shock

They bought brand new Porsches, they bought brand new clothes
They brought them all home wrapped in ribbons and bows
Then they laughed at us all, yes this story is true
See, when Foxies want more, they just take it from you!