Trump’s Night Before Christmas

By Stacie Murphy

Twas the night before Christmas, and in the White House
an old man sat brooding, ignored by his spouse.
With Fox and Friends on the TV a’blare,
except for Bob Mueller he hadn’t a care.

On overdone steak The Donald had fed
beside intel briefings he never had read.
As he sat in his bathrobe and red MAGA cap,
he whipped out his smartphone and opened an app.

“I never weigh in on such trivial matters,
But! Sad! Little Kim Jong has gotten much fatter.”
But then “Breaking News!” said the screen with a flash:
“Indictments are Coming; The Trump Train to Crash?”

The screen lit his face with an unholy glow,
as he shouted and swore and complained of his woe.
Then he called his advisors, and as they appeared
he demanded they tell him he’d nothing to fear.

But as he raved like a wild lunatic,
the downtrodden aides muttered, “God, what a ____!”
But then he grew calm and said “I know this game;
I’ll distract and I’ll scapegoat. I won’t take the blame.

Say ‘Fake News!’ Say ‘Emails!’ Say ‘Weak!’ for the quick spin!
Say ‘Clinton!’ Say ‘Comey!’ Say they’ve put the fix in!
And then I’ll say something so baffling to all–
–Like ‘Put solar panels all over my wall!’–

That they’ll scramble and stutter and won’t even try
to fact check and call out every one of my lies.”
And with the plan made, the advisers withdrew
to write up the memos and gather the crew;

Send them out to the shows to discount the proof–
(they don’t send Don Jr, you can’t trust that goof.)
Then they gathered to watch as Jake Tapper frowned,
said “Stop, KellyAnne, you look like a clown.

That claim’s just not true, you’re on the wrong foot.
This stuff that you’re slinging’s a horse’s output.”
Trump saw the try fail, said “I’ll need a new tack.
Now how can I blame this on someone who’s black?

There’s got to be some way this bad news to bury;
first Paul and now Flynn? They’ll sing like canaries!
They’ll tell the full story, the whole world will know:
I’m just a puppet in a Russian-run show.”

And now we all wait with held breath and clenched teeth.
We all know there’s no low Trump won’t go beneath.
It all a great farce, this “strength” that he’s selling–
He’s insulted our allies from London to Delhi.

He’s a bully who can’t keep his hands to himself,
and he brags (but he’s lying) about his own wealth.
Grievance and ego, they fill up his head,
and his tweets every morning are something to dread.

He golfs and he lies and won’t do any work;
why won’t they impeach this dotty old jerk?
But know that this madman we’ll always oppose,
and sooner or later his crimes we’ll expose.

And one last thing of note as I end this epistle:
The day will soon come when he’ll get his dismissal.
And to all the rest as we walk this dark night:
Good Holidays to all, and stay in the fight!

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