’Twas the night before Christmas
and all through the state
the temperature had fallen
to a muggy seventy-eight.
And at Trump’s Mar-a-Lago,
they were getting a snooze,
except for the president,
hate-watching the news.
The whole family clan
tucked in, one and all.
But Trump couldn’t rest
with an unfunded wall.
So he dialed some numbers
because he was moody,
but not a single one answered,
not even a Rudy.
He needed Mike Pence
with his sycophant smile,
or some crowd in Montana
he could easily rile.
For his foes saw crimes in
his inauguration not frugal.
And Melania was still seething
about his playmate, McDougal.
Mueller’s probe was churning
with collusion quite shocking.
But Trump just kept thinking
“There’s still no gun smocking.”
I’m a hero in real America
in every one-stoplight town.
They know I’m the savior
of the U.S. not brown.
But they mocked his intellect
in the areas quite populous.
And now he felt as trapped
As a common Papadopoulos.
Trump went to the window
and tore open the sash,
then wished once again
he’d paid Stormy in cash.
The moon in the sky
gave a luster like snow
to the lawn in the back
the undocumented mow.
When what to his wondering
eyes should appear,
but an object that was airborne
and growing quite near.
It was a sleigh with eight reindeer
and a driver quite large.
For a moment, Trump thought,
Chris Christie’s drivin’ that barge.
But it was Santa, Trump saw,
and oh what a sight,
as the sleigh clipped the flagpole
nearly invisible at night.
More rapid than eagles
his coursers they came.
And he whistled, and shouted
and called them by name.
“Now Dasher, now Prancer,
Now Comet and Vixen.
Here lives a president
even worser than Nixon.”
The sleigh landed swiftly,
On the roof with a skid.
And Trump gave a laugh,
yes, that’s what he did.
“Santa, your timing is off.
but I appreciate your fandom.
My chief of staff’s been filled
until my next tantrum.”
Now it was Santa’s turn to laugh
and show his jolly ole’ demeanor.
“This is just a quick stop, Donald.
“I want to avoid a subpoena.”
Then Santa reached into his bag,
and used a flashlight for him to see
“This is so mysterious,” Trump said.
“Like who killed Khashoggi.”
“Ah, here it is!” Santa exclaimed.
″‘The National Climate Assessment’,
your own government’s case
for carbon fuel divestment.”
Santa handed Trump the report,
saying, “You better read it.
It’s the consensus of scientists,
and you ought to heed it.”
Trump waved him off.
“I already know what’s what.
I’ve got a big a-brain
But I think with my gut.”
Santa shook his head,
and looked on quite stricken.
“With all due respect, sir,
your gut’s full of fried chicken.”
“Climate change is real,
and rising temps are dealing
concerns much more pressing
than some footballers kneeling.”
Trump covered his ears.
“Your words are a toxin.
Let’s change the subject
to my win in Wisconsin.”
“Hear it you must,”
Old Santa said, shaking.
“The North Pole is melting.
The ice there is breaking.”
“The way things are going,
and I’m not being a faker,
the workshop will drift
halfway to Jamaica”
Trump put up his hand,
“That’s a global calamity.
I just think about America,
the part that likes Hannity.”
“I’ve got my Tucker, my Laura
and my congressman Kevin,
and the evangelists who say
I’ve been sent down from Heaven.”
“America under me
Is getting much greater.
And Santa, you’re another
big socialist hater.”
“You got a giant operation
and product diversity.
But fail to make them pay
like Trump University.”
“I could sell you my name,
bring your Christmas biz favor.
And we could turn a quick buck
with all your cheap labor.”
″‘Santa Trump’ would be the one
who is coming to town.
And we’ll make a good bundle
’fore the feds shut us down.”
Santa shook his head.
“No thanks for the offer.
Your plan is as flimsy
as a Manafort proffer.”
“I’ve got toys to deliver,
and I do it in stages
to a world full of kids
who aren’t in cages.”
And so up on his sleigh
Santa gave a command.
But before he flew off,
Trump stuck out his hand.
“What about me, Santa?
Where’s my present tonight?
I deserve something great,
for being so bright.”
Santa tossed him an object,
filthy and as black as a hole
“I got you your myth.
“Enjoy your clean coal.”
Then he sprang to his sleigh
to his team gave a whistle,
and away they all flew
like the down of a thistle.
Trump was Tweeting already
’fore he flew out of sight.
“Just met Lyin’ Santa Claws. A real loser. Hates America. Shoot him down? Shut down Christmas? North Pole tariff needed NOW. Sad!”
https://www.palmbeachpost.com/news/20181219/cerabino-twas-night-before-christmas-at-mar-a-lago
and all through the state
the temperature had fallen
to a muggy seventy-eight.
And at Trump’s Mar-a-Lago,
they were getting a snooze,
except for the president,
hate-watching the news.
The whole family clan
tucked in, one and all.
But Trump couldn’t rest
with an unfunded wall.
So he dialed some numbers
because he was moody,
but not a single one answered,
not even a Rudy.
He needed Mike Pence
with his sycophant smile,
or some crowd in Montana
he could easily rile.
For his foes saw crimes in
his inauguration not frugal.
And Melania was still seething
about his playmate, McDougal.
Mueller’s probe was churning
with collusion quite shocking.
But Trump just kept thinking
“There’s still no gun smocking.”
I’m a hero in real America
in every one-stoplight town.
They know I’m the savior
of the U.S. not brown.
But they mocked his intellect
in the areas quite populous.
And now he felt as trapped
As a common Papadopoulos.
Trump went to the window
and tore open the sash,
then wished once again
he’d paid Stormy in cash.
The moon in the sky
gave a luster like snow
to the lawn in the back
the undocumented mow.
When what to his wondering
eyes should appear,
but an object that was airborne
and growing quite near.
It was a sleigh with eight reindeer
and a driver quite large.
For a moment, Trump thought,
Chris Christie’s drivin’ that barge.
But it was Santa, Trump saw,
and oh what a sight,
as the sleigh clipped the flagpole
nearly invisible at night.
More rapid than eagles
his coursers they came.
And he whistled, and shouted
and called them by name.
“Now Dasher, now Prancer,
Now Comet and Vixen.
Here lives a president
even worser than Nixon.”
The sleigh landed swiftly,
On the roof with a skid.
And Trump gave a laugh,
yes, that’s what he did.
“Santa, your timing is off.
but I appreciate your fandom.
My chief of staff’s been filled
until my next tantrum.”
Now it was Santa’s turn to laugh
and show his jolly ole’ demeanor.
“This is just a quick stop, Donald.
“I want to avoid a subpoena.”
Then Santa reached into his bag,
and used a flashlight for him to see
“This is so mysterious,” Trump said.
“Like who killed Khashoggi.”
“Ah, here it is!” Santa exclaimed.
″‘The National Climate Assessment’,
your own government’s case
for carbon fuel divestment.”
Santa handed Trump the report,
saying, “You better read it.
It’s the consensus of scientists,
and you ought to heed it.”
Trump waved him off.
“I already know what’s what.
I’ve got a big a-brain
But I think with my gut.”
Santa shook his head,
and looked on quite stricken.
“With all due respect, sir,
your gut’s full of fried chicken.”
“Climate change is real,
and rising temps are dealing
concerns much more pressing
than some footballers kneeling.”
Trump covered his ears.
“Your words are a toxin.
Let’s change the subject
to my win in Wisconsin.”
“Hear it you must,”
Old Santa said, shaking.
“The North Pole is melting.
The ice there is breaking.”
“The way things are going,
and I’m not being a faker,
the workshop will drift
halfway to Jamaica”
Trump put up his hand,
“That’s a global calamity.
I just think about America,
the part that likes Hannity.”
“I’ve got my Tucker, my Laura
and my congressman Kevin,
and the evangelists who say
I’ve been sent down from Heaven.”
“America under me
Is getting much greater.
And Santa, you’re another
big socialist hater.”
“You got a giant operation
and product diversity.
But fail to make them pay
like Trump University.”
“I could sell you my name,
bring your Christmas biz favor.
And we could turn a quick buck
with all your cheap labor.”
″‘Santa Trump’ would be the one
who is coming to town.
And we’ll make a good bundle
’fore the feds shut us down.”
Santa shook his head.
“No thanks for the offer.
Your plan is as flimsy
as a Manafort proffer.”
“I’ve got toys to deliver,
and I do it in stages
to a world full of kids
who aren’t in cages.”
And so up on his sleigh
Santa gave a command.
But before he flew off,
Trump stuck out his hand.
“What about me, Santa?
Where’s my present tonight?
I deserve something great,
for being so bright.”
Santa tossed him an object,
filthy and as black as a hole
“I got you your myth.
“Enjoy your clean coal.”
Then he sprang to his sleigh
to his team gave a whistle,
and away they all flew
like the down of a thistle.
Trump was Tweeting already
’fore he flew out of sight.
“Just met Lyin’ Santa Claws. A real loser. Hates America. Shoot him down? Shut down Christmas? North Pole tariff needed NOW. Sad!”
https://www.palmbeachpost.com/news/20181219/cerabino-twas-night-before-christmas-at-mar-a-lago
