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THE ANNUAL YULE FOOLS

FROM NORTH AMERICA SYNDICATE, 300 W 57th STREET, 15th FLOOR, NEW YORK, NY
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THE ANNUAL YULE FOOLS
BY BOB FRANKEN

­­­

’Twas the night before Seasons

Greetings throughout our house

Not a creature was online,

Using touchscreen or mouse.

The children had nestled; fell asleep, they got listless,

As the TV set blared about the “War Against Christmas.”

“Who cares,” they’d cried out, “about which holiday?”

“Just make sure we get big gifts and use credit to pay.”

But Mom in her kerchief, and I in my Skivvies,

Were still up and watching the loudmouths on TV.

When out on the lawn there arose even more clatter,

Some sled had crash­landed, the contents all shattered.

I wasted no time, this was not any trifle;

I grabbed ammo clips and my trusty new rifle.

I fired off some rounds; it was actually fun

I’d never had reason to use such a gun.

My aim was so poor I could not hit a lick

Which meant that I missed, did not kill old St. Nick.

He was pretty shaken, he was actually crying,

His sleigh smashed in the snow, and him nearly dying.

‘Twas already a grind, nothing happy or great,

There were still hard feelings lingering from the debate.

The Republican reindeer only wanted to go right,

And together they offered one real scary sight.

In the lead was The Donald, and he was a fright,

He’d brought his own mob, really hateful, all white.

He was followed real closely by the nose of Ted Cruz.

Kissing up to Trump’s crowd was part of his ruse.

Then Marco, and Carly not flying but slithering

And Carson seeming lost with his mumbling and dithering.

There was Kasich and Rand Paul, who’d be of good cheer,

Except that on this flight they took up the rear.

With Christie and Jebbie, who was not having fun

As the third of the Bush deer who’d gone out on this run.

And some of the others weren’t even around,

They were barely in sight, they were playing the lounge.


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And then there were Sanders, O’Malley and Clinton

Who were trying to pull in the other direction.

No wonder they had so much trouble sailing,

The whole group was squabbling, ‘cept for Hillary emailing.

The one who was happy was the person not flying:

Obama was surfing the beach in Hawaii.

He’d finally earned his spot with the no-shows

No longer did he have to deal with these bozos.

Back here Santa twinkled,

For good reason I think,

To cope with these crazies,

He’d had too much to drink.

He lurched to his sleigh, barely missing a tree,

Still he made sure to be strictly PC:

“Happy Holidays all, I hope you will love it,

I’ve had more than enough. So take this job and just shove it.”

© 2015 Bob Franken
Distributed by King Features Syndicate, Inc.

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This page contains a single entry from the blog posted on December 24, 2015 8:34 AM.

The previous post in this blog was THURSDAY MORN ON MSNBC.

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