The year without Xmas (a poem)

Normally, even when I am feeling depressed about it, it still feels like Xmas. This year has been different—with all the hand-wringing, angst, and anxiety about the election, it has not felt even a little bit like Xmas…

This year
Xmas is neither white
nor blue
nor happy
nor merry
nor joyous
nor peaceful
nor the season to be jolly
(fa la la la la la la la la)

There are no bells jingling
no chestnuts roasting
no boughs of holly
no snowmen named Frosty
no partridges in pear trees
no lords a-leaping
or any of that crap

Santa Claus has no list
so he’s not checking it twice
not caring who’s naughty
not caring who’s nice
not asking Rudolph
to guide his sleigh tonight
not going to need milk and cookies
left by the fire

Charlie Brown is not depressed
about the commercialization of Xmas

Kevin McAllister
is not home alone (again)

Eric Cartman
is not getting the Ultra-Vibe Pleasure 2000

Clark W. Griswold is not getting his Xmas bonus
after having dry turkey and cat-food Jell-O® mold for dinner

Ebenezer Scrooge and Frank Cross
will not be visited by three ghosts
who will make them better people overnight

George Bailey will go to jail a bitter man
because Clarence is not going to show him
the wonderful life he’s had
(either way, Potter keeps the $8,000)

Ralphie will not get an official Red Ryder carbine action 200-shot range model air rifle with a compass in the stock
or shoot his eye out while wearing a pink bunny suit that makes him look like a deranged Easter bunny or pink nightmare

No, we’ve been too busy
making America great again

(20 December 2016)

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