This column will appear in print on Dec. 24. I can't just write any old thing, can I?... knowing it'll be Christmas Eve when you read it. So I've written a poem. A Christmas(ish) poem. And you'd better appreciate it because it took me a crap long time to write it. It rhymes and everything, and that ain't easy. I could write a whole regular column in the time it takes to write two metered, rhyming lines, and this poem has 24 metered pairs of rhyming lines. One last thing: This poem is for Democrats only. As for the Republicans?... screw 'em. They had their Christmas seven weeks ago. I call it...
Yeah, It Was A Crummy Year, But...
Two thousand, fourteen?... not our favorite year,
Filled as it was with a butt-load of fear.
It started off rough with Obamacare woes,
And Congress rife with Larrys, Curlys and Moes.
We knew it'd be nasty as midterms drew nigh
But who could have known just how low they would fly?
For those who believed the McConnells and Boehners,
(Not to mention the rest of the GOP moaners),
The good old U.S. was about to collapse
To an immigrant's heaven of socialist scraps.
Howled out the Cruz, the Paul and the Gomert,
"We're doomed! We're doomed!" then threw even more dirt.
Obama could do nothing right they declaimed.
For everything bad it was he whom they blamed.
The rise of gas prices, Ebola and ISIS?...
That conniving Kenyan had caused every crisis.
He even took heat for the polar vortex
It's a wonder he didn't get filmed having sex.
Some called him "King" for his executive actions
Others shrieked "Tyrant!"; there were several factions.
Billions were spent in the war for the Senate,
Just to elect a mere handful of numbnuts.
It mattered for naught, the Democraters' defense;
The odds against them were just too immense.
In the end it was panic that carried the day.
On November 4, the dumb stooges held sway.
One-fifth of the people decided our fate.
So pissed-off, they were, so seething with hate.
Now the air is abuzz with talk of impeachment,
Benghazi inquiries and fed'ral o'er-reachment
Yet in spite of the sound, in spite of the fury,
Our president seems to have little worry.
He forges ahead, unilaterally,
To slow global warming, to help Dreamers dream free,
To up the ante on minimum wages,
To end the abuse in Git-mo's foul cages.
The Obamacare woes have resolved to success,
Thanks in large part to Obama's finesse.
We're cozy with Cuba, employment's contained
By leadership from which his critics refrained
This must be said, and let the Right frown,
Be it ever so true: A good man won't stay down.
As ye merrily carve into your Christmas hams,
And rip the wraps from your new Dodge Rams,
Take a moment of time to thank Baby Jesus
For putting good Barack here on Earth to lead us.
And as your family sups on your holiday hominy,
Bless us all that it wasn't Mitt Rominey!