All I Want For Christmas Is No More 'Twas The Night Before Christmas Parodies
It's the night before Christmas!! If only there was some kind of poem about it.
Not only is there a poem about it, it's one that someone, somewhere, feels the need to parody every year. It could be a sportswriter hard up for a column, it could be someone wanting to share inside jokes about their profession or their dieting, it could be some sci-fi fan doing a Star Trek version of it.
What they all have in common: They suck.
So, as you just settle in a for a long winter's nap, here are some of the crap that's out there. The writers tend to have their own intepretations of how Clement Moore organized the original, not to mention other problems.
There's this, from a conservative columnist:
'Tis the week before Christmas and all through the land,
not a freedom is safe from Obama's hand.
Bankers, bewildered, before him now bow,
while auto-makers, thankful, praise his cash cow.
With energy and health care nearing control,
his grasp on the nation is as he foretold.
The people are stirred by his escapades,
and are somewhat shocked by the history they made.
Obama is not what he promised to be;
he brings, instead, tyranny.
Worst part: We don't even know how the meter goes on that whole "escapades" thing.
There's Roland Burris, pseudo-senator from Illinois:
It was the night before Christmas, and all through the Senate
the right held up our health care bill, no matter what was in it.
The people had voted a mandated reform
but Republicans blew off the gathering storm.
"We'll clog up the Senate," they cried with a grin.
"And in the midterm elections, we'll get voted in."
They knew regular folks needed help right this second
but fund-raisers lobbyists and politics beckoned.
So try as they might Democrats could not win
because their majority was simply too thin
Worst part: He did this on the Senate floor.
From Andi Silverman, www.mamaknowsbreast.com:
'Twas a holiday eve and the babe was asleep,
Swaddled tight in his crib he made not a peep.
My boobs were depleted from feeding all day.
"Please don't wake. Sleep all night," to the babe I did pray.
But his lips, how they moved, as he lay in his bed.
Visions of milky breasts danced in his head.
Dad in his boxers and I in my sweats,
Could we get some shuteye? Go ahead, place your bets
Worst part: Later on, the author talks of car trips where "you'll be covered in poo."
The "Politically Correct" Santa, by Harvey Ehrlich:
'Twas the night before Christmas and Santa's a wreck...
How to live in a world that's politically correct?
His workers no longer would answer to "Elves",
Vertically Challenged" they were calling themselves
And labor conditions at the north pole
Were alleged by the union to stifle the soul.
Four reindeer had vanished, without much propriety,
Released to the wilds by the Humane Society.
And equal employment had made it quite clear
That Santa had better not use just reindeer.
So Dancer and Donner, Comet and Cupid,
Were replaced with 4 pigs, and you know that looked stupid!
Worst part: Santa's suit is somehow ruled
"unenlightened." Also his wife demands to be called "Ms." and people
call the cops when they hear footsteps on the roof, both of which sound
reasonable to us.
We could go on. But we won't.
You'll thank us for stopping. And to all a good night!!!
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