Monday, December 14, 2015

A Politically-Correct Christmas...Err...Winter Holiday

The following is a repost from several years ago.  Well, I wrote it several years ago.  And I put it on Blogger last year and...the year before that.  I think.  I did update it for 2015, though (for those of you who may have read it last year, see if you can find where).

Have a Holly Jolly, Politically Correct Christmas Holiday
C. Clement Moore (?)

With apologies to Major Henry Livingston, Jr.:*

Twas the Night Before December 25th

‘Twas the night before December 25th, when all through the place of residence (be it house, teepee, shopping cart, or refrigerator carton).
Not a creature was stirring, not even a sentient life form known as a rodent (which has every right to live wherever it chooses).
Bill Clinton’s condoms were hung by the chimney with care,
in hopes that an intern soon would be there.
"It's the most wonderful time of the year!"

The children of the multi-diverse family unit were nestled by Family Services all snug in their beds,
while visions of non-dairy, non-sugar, non-peanut, non-caffeine, non-fat, non-transfats, non-threatening tofu plums danced “With the Stars” in their heads.
And my life partner in a hyperbaric chamber and I in my neoprene bubble
had drifted to sleep, with nary any trouble.

When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed (which I selfishly bought at IKEA while millions slept on grates), to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I feared that I’d spy
Khameini, Bergdahl, some ISIS guy.

The moon, on the Miley Cyrus breast of the new-fallen snow
gave the luster of midday to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a “little people” sleigh and eight height-challenged reindeer.

With a stature-limited seasoned-citizen driver, so lively and quick,
I knew it must be that Person of Androgynous Reknown, Nikita, Nick...
or maybe Trump.  That prick.
More rapid than endangered eagles, her/his coursers they came
and she/he whistled and shouted and called them by name (though not as subservients; rather as equals in the mutual exchange of commerce).

“Now Twerker! Lap Dancer!
Simmons, you Prancer and Nixon!
Obama! Ted Danson!
On, Hillary and Mel Gibson!
To the top of the porch!
To the top of the wall!
Now, dash away, but only if you’re physically able and don’t feel threatened by it all!”
"Richard's not the only one!
Penwasser should have given me a chance!"
As dry leaves before the hurricane fly,
which plugs up levees because Republicans want you to die,
so to the subsidized housing the hoofed business partners
with a sleigh full of capitalist loot stolen from me and from you!

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
the prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, I turned and I saw
Nikita/Nick and her/his attorney-at-law.

She/he was dressed in synthetic fur, from her/his head to her/his foot,
and her/his clothes were all tarnished with the tracings of soot,
a by-product of the evil exploitation of majestic trees by some Republican nut.
A bundle of toys she/he had tossed in a sack
and I KNEW I was liable if she/he busted her/his back!

But, there was no worry, I had not a care!
Oh, crap, what did you say?
She/he had Obamacare!?

Her/his eyes--how they twinkled!  Her/his dimples, how merry!
Her/his cheeks like BOTOX balloons, her/his nose like a cherry!
It was obvious with him/her I should not be alone
this creepy, suspicious Joe Biden clone.
But, he said, “Fear not!  You’ve nothing to fear! 
For now we have Jenner ! Woman of the Year!”
Her/his droll little mouth was drawn up no, not in a frown
from some anonymous, “tsk-tsking” government clown.
The stump of a pipe she/he had just for effect
as she/he showed me her/his nicotine patch on her/his neck.
She/he had a broad face and a little round belly
that shook when she/he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.

"Can I interest you in a Yule Log?"
(NOTE: the American Medical Association strongly urges a lifestyle which eliminates the existence of “little round bellies”, as they may lead to diabetes, high blood pressure, tourettes, heart attack, Governor of New Jersey, an “unfresh” feeling, stroke, erectile dysfunction, skin rashes, halitosis, driving heavy equipment while drowsy, gun control, and rickets.)

She/he was chubby and plump (see NOTE above), a right jolly old fairy/troll/forest nymph/dwarf/Michael Moore/multi-diverse personage of varying-yet valuable-ethnic persuasion/wood sprite/Oprah/elf,
and I laughed when I saw her/him, in spite of myself (although, to avoid being sued, I said I was laughing “with”, not “at”, her/him).
A wink of her/his eye and a twist of her/his head
soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

She/he spoke not a word, but went straight to her/his work
and filled all the condoms, when allowed by her/his attorney-the aforementioned jerk.
The gifts, she/he explained, were crafted by midgets
Err...”little people” those over-sensitive fidgets.
To insult them, she/he knew, will just make them sour
When, after New Years, they return back to work
at McDonalds for $15.00 an hour.
"But not Starbucks.
Because screw you, that's why.
Happy Holidays."
And laying her/his finger on the side (not in) of her/his nose,
and giving a nod, up the chimney/window/teepee smoke hole she/he rose.
She/he sprang to her/his sleigh, to her/his team gave a whistle,
and they mutually agreed in committee to fly as equals away like the down of a thistle.
But, I heard her/him exclaim, ‘ere she/he drove out of sight.

“Happy Non-Sectarian Day-of-Observance-Which-Has-Nothing-To-Do-With-An-Established-Creed-Or-Dogma-of-Faith-Because-That-Would-Be-a-Heinous-Violation-of-the-Sanctity-of-the-Separation-of-Church-and-State-You-Hater-Besides-What-About-the-Children-Dammit!? and to all a mutually-satisfying (as agreed upon in writing. In triplicate. By the ACLU.) night!”    

    *Evidently, Clement Clark Moore is the 19th century equivalent of the New York Times’ Jayson Blair**.  A classic since its 1823 appearance in the Troy Sentinel, ‘A Visit From St. Nicholas’ (as it was alternately known) was claimed by Moore as his own in 1837, conveniently after Livingston had passed away.  In fact, Moore, who wasn’t known by any other poem, incorporated the work into one of his own books, Poems, in 1844!  So, the next time you’re tempted to fret and bemoan our lack of journalistic scruples, just remember Moore’s response when asked if he had, indeed, written this most-famous of Yuletide poems:  “Uh, yeah, whatever.”
    Or, so I’ve read on the Internet.  Because, after all, if it’s there, it must be true! 

**Like I said, this is a repost, so the inclusion of Jayson Blair may leave you scratching your head.  Mr. Blair was pinched several years ago for being a plagiarist.  A plagiarist, of course, is someone who tries to pawn off someone else’s work as his own without giving credit to the actual author.  You know, a lot like Joe Biden.  There, how ‘bout that?  Timely and funny.
Jayson Blair
Noted Plagiarist
Former Journalist
Stunt Double for Samuel L. Jackson
***I’m not so sure this is very timely anymore.  But, I managed to include a “twerking” reference.  You’re welcome.

****Okay, "twerking" isn’t really timely anymore, either.  But, I made fun of Bruce Jenner.  That’s gotta count for something.

Someone said 'dick!'"


  1. It does count for something.
    This just proves what I said last week. We have gone way too far with political correctness.
    And the reindeer wish to be referred to as ungulates now.

    1. Whew!
      Poor Caitlyn, though. He/she/it/whatever is the butt of many jokes.
      Hee...hee...hee...I said 'butt.'

  2. I bet you scored some points and lost some points with the PC brigade all at the same time. Sad how far it has gotten, like the laughing, no doubt someone would sue.

    1. They can take what they will, but they can never take my...sense...of...humor.
      I submitted this line when they were making "Braveheart," but they said no.

  3. I think the new addition is ISIS? Maybe?

    Clinton was fun to have in the office. A comedy gold mine.

    1. Clinton is to comedy what herpes is to a lot of people. His value just keeps giving and giving.
      Which is one of the reasons (a microscopically small one) I would like to see a President Biden or President Trump.
      If only for the jokes.

  4. But alas, no Star Wars reference. Maybe when the tofu plums dance...
    No matter what,you captured all the crazy very well, and I love the caption about the Yule log.
    Keep this rolling for years to come - I love traditions

    1. Star Wars....nuts. I KNEW I missed something.
      Maybe next year...?
      If we're all still here.
      Well now, Al, THAT'S terribly pessimistic!

  5. You resisted the temptation to couple Hillary's name with that of another woman. You deserve a personally engraved Bill Clinton condom for that. But why so much about the tranny? Is she looking for a boyfriend, BTW?

    1. The Hillary thing is alleged (yeah, like innuendo ever stopped me).
      Caitlyn? Making fun of he/she/it/whatever is like shooting transgendered fish in a barrel.

  6. Now this is too funny...sad and true but funny. I enjoyed this new song version but I love politically incorrect and think of the dysfunctional Reindeer clan who have Donner-he likes to beat other reindeer up which really scares Prancer since Prancer just loves to dance to Judy Garland and Barbara Striesand music

    1. As Peter Falk was wont to say, "You gotta keep an eye out for Donner."

  7. Replies
    1. Thank you! I love poking fun at ludicrous.
      Or Ludacris.

  8. Damnit! It doesn't help if you repost and I never commented on the first one! I know, I'll just grab a random comment...Gimme a sec, I'll be right back.

    1. Okay, here we go form November 10th of last year...

      " I don't think so, Bones. I don't have the guts for it anymore."

      Hmm... maybe a bit too random.

      Maybe I should keep a list of my comments here so I can find ones appropriate to the post.

    2. Bummer. I wanted to read a reposted comment. Next week, I'll be reposting something from 2013. It didn't make the cut in 2014.

  9. I guess it's time to do something about my little round belly, even though it perfectly matches the rest of me.

    1. As long as you don't smoke a pipe (or crawl around people's roofs), you're probably good to go.

  10. This is one of those things that's great yet terrible. Great because it's funny and well written, but terrible because it offers a genuine look into what could actually be our most horrible future.

    1. I wouldn't think of telling anyone how to speak (unless it was hateful).
      I just wish I was given the same consideration.

  11. It was all going so well until I saw Biden offer her a Yule Log. Then the words just stopped making sense.

  12. Thank you. I needed the laughter. This was the funniest holiday post or re-post I've ever read or re-read. I'm most appreciative of your reference to a "little people" sleigh. Gary Coleman would approve.

    1. So you know...when I was polishing up for reissue, I was trying to come up with something that would include our little friend. Because I wanted to post a picture of the cooler!

    2. The cooler really is his best depiction, after all.

    3. Even better than Different Strokes.

  13. This was genius, Al. Funny as hell, and aggressively (I mean that in a good way!) inoffensive. I loved it.

    1. I hope I hit idiocy from both sides of the aisle. There are so many from which to choose.