Jewish World Review Dec. 21, 1999 /12 Teves, 5760
From Saint Nick
TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE Christmas, in Clinton’s White House
Not a creature was stirring, not even the louse.
His stockings were stuffed with China funding galore
Collected by Chung and Vice President Gore.
Bubba was nestled all snug in his bed,
While visions of interns danced in his head.
And away in a mansion in Chappaqua, New York.
Hillary Rodham is sleeping far away from the dork.
But Chelsea was back in her own White House bed,
“Do Christmas with Dad,” their advisors had said.
When out on the lawn came a racket so great,
Bill thought the right-wingers were storming the gate.
He hid under the covers -- he quivered and shook,
Then called to his henchmen to go have a look.
“Hey, Vernon! Hey, Carville! Go check out the yard!”
No one answered his call, not even his guard.
Away to the window Bill flew like a flash,
Tripped over his night stand, knocked over his stash.
The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow
Made him think of Lewinsky in times long ago.
Then suddenly his wandering eyes became fused,
To an oversized sleigh and six women he used,
With a little old driver so lively and quick,
He knew in a moment it must be Saint Nick.
More rabid than lawyers Nick’s coursers they came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
“Now, Gennifer! Now, Paula! Now, Sally Perdue!
On, Monica! On, Juanita! On Dolly Kyle, too!
To the top of the porch, to the roof even higher!
Now, dash away! Hurry! Let’s visit this liar!”
So up to the housetop the women they flew
With a sleigh full of rage and Saint Nicholas, too.
As Bill bit his lip and was twirling his curls,
Down the chimney Saint Nicholas came with the girls.
“Well, I’m happy to see all you women at last,”
Clinton sputtered and stuttered -- he had to think fast.
“I love to give presents, I’m sure you’ll agree,
And look at the stuff for you under my tree.”
The gals didn’t answer but Nicholas did,
“You’re not a real man, you’re a middle-aged kid,
Who’s selfish and vengeful and wants his own way,
You’ve spent your life lying and thought it okay.
I’ve been keeping a list of cruel things that you do.
Seems harassment of women is normal for you.”
“Your actions and words have hurt innocent men,
Yet you ‘feel the pain’ of the F.A.L.N.
Selling secrets to China -- you really don’t care,
Just as long as Ms. Reno can cover your rear.”
“You sullied the office you swore to uphold,
And tried to hurt people with lies that you told.
You cheated the country you promised to serve,
Then shrugged it all off with your conscienceless nerve.
Of scruples and ethics you haven’t a clue,
High values and morals are simply not you.”
“And so on this wondrous Christmas Eve night,
I’ll do what I can to set some of this right.
I can’t alter events that have already been,
I can’t change what you’ve done, but I’ll wipe off that grin.”
Then he spoke not a word but went straight to his work,
First he opened his pack then turned back to the jerk,
And tossed him an empty box wrapped all in red,
Saint Nicholas looked straight at Clinton and said,
“This contains all the dignity, courage and class,
You’ve brought to the Presidency these seven years past.”
And giving a wink to the ladies nearby,
Up the chimney Saint Nick and the women did fly.
They sprang to the sleigh and took off with the breeze,
They were happy to leave the commander in sleeze.
He just didn’t get it -- he never really would,
Have any idea of what it means to be good.
Bubba heard them exclaim as they drove through the sky,
“It’s DECENCY, stupid. Why not give it a
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JWR contributor Greg Crosby, former creative head for Walt Disney publications, has written
thousands of comics, hundreds of children's books, dozens of essays, and a
letter to his congressman. You may contact him by clicking here.
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©1999, Greg Crosby