Sunday, December 23, 2007

'Twas The Night Before Cheney

Image via Freaking News © 2003 - 2019

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the White House
Not a bedbug was stirring... (well, maybe one louse).
The fishnets were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Cheney soon would be there.

The twins were nestled all snug in their beds,
Out cold from the cocktails that danced in their heads.
And George in his bustier, and I with my whip,
Had just settled who'd be the first one to strip.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my harness to see what was the matter.
To the window I flew with oblige noblesse,
Tore open the shutters and whipped off my dress.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave a golden luster to the rose garden below.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a pimped-out ride, and eight NeoCon reindeer.

With a hired-gun driver, and bling laid on thick,
I knew in a moment it must be Old Dick.
More vapid than newscasters, his hangers-on came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

Wolfowitz! now, Libby! now, Feith and Yoo!
Rumsfeld! On, Perle! On, Decter, and Bolton too!
To the top of Halliburton! To the top of the World!
Now cash away! Dash away! Our flag is unfurled!"

As cockroaches before the light o' day fly,
When there's none left to steal, they mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top, the NeoCons flew,
With a sleigh full of flak jackets, and St. Cheney too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The slashing and clawing of each cloven hoof.
As I hiked up my garters and then turned around,
Down the chimney St. Dick came, that snarling old hound.

Dressed in skins flayed from Dems on Congress' floors,
His camos untouched by the horrors of war.
A bundle of dirty bombs he had flung on his back,
And he grinned like an asshole while opening his pack.

His eyes – how they glittered! His dimples – how merry!
His cheeks were caved in, his nose sort of hairy!
His crooked little mouth was drawn up in a sneer,
And the jut of his chin made him look a bit queer.

A stump of an arm he held tight in his teeth,
And the stench it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a pale face and a little round belly,
His teeth they were pointed and smelled like New Delhi!

He was chubby and plump, like a war profiteer,
And I laughed when I saw him, hiding my fear!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had so much to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Assembling his wankers for a big circle jerk.
Then pressing his pecker upside of my nose,
With a nod and a growl, up the chimney, he rose!

He sprang to his limo, to his wolves gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like a newk-u-lur missile.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"I'll soon own the world, as you suspected I might!"

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays to all. Please pass this on, with attribution. Thanks!
Copyright Lisa Wines 2007

Cross-posted at
PoliticsAfter50 and Omyword!

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