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FOR RELEASE FRIDAY, DEC. 23, 2011
THE SILLY SEASON'S VERSE INSTINCT
BY BOB FRANKEN
'Tis the time around Christmas, Hanukkah and whatever,
And the season to suffer in Iowa's weather,
This year, the winter's unusually raucous,
As we mark that state's big day, with the GOP caucus.
The voters are nestled at home in their bed,
Watching campaign ads nonstop that fill them with dread
But on Gingrich, on Romney, on Paul in that fight,
Along with Rick Perry, deer in the headlight.
They're quite a collection, these partisan souls,
Amazing to watch as they bounce in the polls,
Each of those chosen as the someone-not-Mitt,
Is quickly deposed, from not-Mitt to nitwit.
Except for the Newtwit, it's twice that he's managed,
To slither the heights even with all his baggage,
For a second time, though, his lead's going south,
It happens each time he opens his mouth.
And as his prospects again start their flaggin'
Party heavyweights flock to the Romney bandwagon.
It's easy to find, and easy to spot,
It's the one with the dog tied down on the top.
He claims he's the one with the most stable views,
Not like the others who light up cable news.
To say nothing about Palin and, of course, Donald Trump,
Who again hint they'll add to the candidate dump.
The others have shown all their skills as debaters,
Each trying to be No. 1 among haters.
Judges, and immigrants, to say nothing of gays,
Just some of those slimed by their venomous spray,
But they're not the main villains in this demagogues' drama,
That honor, of course, goes to Barack H. Obama.
If cheap shots escape them, in ideas, there's a dearth,
Once again, they'll bring up the president's birth.
In Washington, meanwhile, payroll-tax cuts were no-goes,
The tea party hordes astill acting like bozos,
Again for awhile a deal with John Boehner,
Made his crazy backbenchers get even insaner
The Capitol squabblers rank low in the gutter,
But they keep heading down as they act even nuttier.
The public surveys show wide disaffection,
So much so, they're helping Barack's re-election
But the meaning is small in these congressional spats,
Since our real rulers are the nation's fat cats.
No matter how earnest the Wall Street protesters,
The oligarchs dictate; inequity festers,
It's an issue that shouldn't be swatted away,
But 1 percenters just laugh, they find it child's play.
While some in D.C. push a millionaire surcharge,
It becomes nothing more than a talking point mirage.
That is the backdrop of the current campaign,
Where each of the players offers more of the same.
They gussy it up in clever sound biting,
But if you look closely, they're way out and frightening
So finally after these months of such clatters,
It's time to pretend Iowa really matters,
Then it's off to New Hampshire, also cold and all white.
And then South Carolina, that place is far right.
The choices seem dismal in the coming election,
Causing many to dream of a better selection,
Still manage to somehow enjoy all the cheer
And try not to think what we all face next year.
© 2011 Bob Franken
Distributed by King Features Syndicate, Inc.