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YULETIDE FOOLTIDE

FROM KING FEATURES SYNDICATE
BY BOB FRANKEN

YULETIDE FOOLTIDE

’Tis the time around Xmas or whatever the holiday
Hannukah, Kwanza, but in particular Inauguration Day.
Celebrated within a month, by those who are sane
Not afflicted by bigotry or attracted to the inane.

Now not a creature was stirring; they were still as a lump
Except, for one who was ranting, that would be Donald Trump
His veins were all swollen and his face that way too
Screaming “scam!” fraud!”; tweeting “rigged!” and of course “I will sue!”
When suddenly on the South Lawn, there arose such a clatter,
That the Trumpster went bonkers, he was mad as a hatter
He collided with Melania, wearing designer pj’s
Perfectly decked out, for meeting up with stray sleighs.

They dashed down together from their separate bedrooms
Out to the Rose Garden, plastic flowers abloom
Like they were shot out of cannons but they knew where they went
Santa’s sleigh was at the same spot of that superspreader event.

He wore a red suit and was jolly, though you might really ask,
How could you tell when his “ho hos” were muffled by matching red mask
Don Trump was not wearing one, nor Melania, bless her soul,
So Claus handed them both their gifts — they got big bags of coal.

But when Santa rummaged ’round his bag he got serious not cheery
In fact, the agents nearby got kind of leery.
He got more and more frantic and couldn’t be stopping.
Till he found another gift for Trump: a bag of deer droppings

Melania kept staring at St. Nick, she was still, not a twitch,
She was wondering secretly if this old guy was rich.
Her reverie was broken as Santa thought with a sigh,
He’d like to flirt but lead reindeer Rudy was perspiring hair dye.
Besides, he needed to get away, he had others in D.C.
He had bags of deer droppings to bomb the GOP

He’d have to be careful with his mass reindeer dumpers,
He’d have to avoid those who were resistant never Trumpers

But he shouted, “Don’t worry, I’ll be back without fail,
I’ll find you next year, even if you’re in jail!
As for you, Melania, I live somewhere cold
It’s not quite as cozy as Mar-a-Lago
Of course among the adjustments you’ll make with your labors,
You have a teensy problem with your troublesome neighbors.
Before you move in, I’d be cautious, use hesitance,
They have ways to ban you from taking up residence.”


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Back in the day, Donny needed some money,
So he signed a document that today isn’t funny.
It means they can ban him, unless the contract proves bogus.
He might move out of the White House and be suddenly homeless!

Never mind, Santa Claus was itching to abscond,
He had competitive reasons, pressure from Amazon.
A new problem created by that dynamo Jeff Bezos,
Who, as we are constantly told, owns the Washington Post.

Don and Melania will have to change addresses, without even conceding,
Leaving behind a mess for Joe and Dr. Jill to take a whack at receding.
But happy holidays, all, even Donald the Grouchy,
At least he can take comfort, no more Tony Fauci!

Meanwhile, the fake news reporters
Will no longer have such a supporter
That’s what he was, this self-centered jerk
With Biden, the media will need to do work.

With the new year then, our fortunes will be abating,
Without the buffoon, we’ll have dropping ratings.
So we’ll miss you, Donny, and bizzarro buddies so dense
Particularly the supreme suck-up, the toady Mike Pence.

So Santa Claus left, his sleigh he was ridin’
The next time he comes back, it’ll be good old Joe Biden.
It won’t be the same, we’ll all be scrounging for laughs,
All we can ridicule are his endless goofball gaffes.

© 2020 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, 2020 5:04 AM.

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