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A Visit from St. Nicholas, as improved by President Trump

December 24, 2018

Merry Christmas Eve everyone! I hope this holiday season has brought you some happiness and relaxation in the comfort of family and friends.

 

I know this is not very bi-partisan, but the holidays have spurred my creative juices. I have taken the liberty to rewrite this classic Christmas story, as told from the eyes of the POTUS. So you if you have some time tonight and would like a little laugh (I tried-maybe comedy is not my calling?), please enjoy! And feel free to make your own renditions. I am always up for the competition.  

 

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‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the White House

 

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse

 

The money bags were hung by the chimney with care

 

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there

 

Ivanka and Jared were nestled all snug in their bed

 

While visions of First Daughter and Chief of Staff danc’d in their head

 

And Melania in her “I don’t care” sweater (I think, we were in different rooms), and I in my MAGA cap,

 

Had just settled down for our long winter nap (pissed to be in DC though—I want the Winter White House)

 

When out on the Front Lawn there arose such a clatter

 

I sprang (slowly, the Trump Bump is getting in the way these days) to see what was the matter

 

Away to the window I flew like a flash (I am a superhero, you know),

 

Tore open the shutters (with my Hulk like strength), and threw up the sash (how frilly-must be the #MeToo movement—must get Mick Mulvaney to handle tomorrow-he does that right?)

 

The moon on the breast (not Stormy’s though I swear, I don’t know her) of the new fallen snow

 

Gave the lustre of mid-day to the objects below;

 

When, what to my wondering  (not wandering) eyes should appear,

 

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny rein-deer (SAD! They should really use Air Force One)

 

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

 

I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick (because I am the Smartest. I went to Wharton you know)

 

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came (what the hell is a courser?)


And he whistled, and shouted, and call’d them by name:
 

“Now! Dasher, now! Dancer, now! Prancer, and Vixen

 

“On! Comet, on! Cupid, on! Dunder and Blixem (they really need better names. How about

Doofus Dasher? Pathetic Prancer? Comely Comet? C’mon Santa, get it together)
 

“To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall (or steel slats)!
 

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”

 

As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly (maybe I should throw some paper towels to help!)

 

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;

 

So up to the helipad the coursers (seriously, what is a courser?) they flew,

 

With the sleigh full of Toys-and St. Nicholas too:

 

And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

 

The prancing and pawning of each little hoof.

 

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

 

Down into the Residence St. Nicholas came with a bound (where is my Secret Service?)

 

He was dress’d all in fur, from his head to a foot (LOSER)

 

And his clothes were all tarnish’d with ashes and soot;

 

A bundle of toys was flung on his back,

 

And he look’d like a peddler just opening his pack (must be an immigrant-where Is my WALL?):

 

His eyes-how they twinkled! His dimples how merry,

 

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry (Sissy Santa)

 

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

 

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow (I should tell him about my barber-he does wonders-my hair is real, I swear!)

 

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth

 

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath

 

He had a broad face, and a little round belly (he should try the Trump diet)

 

That shook when he laugh’d, like a bowl full of jelly (Some Trump steaks would fix that!)

 

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf

 

And I laugh’d (at him) when I saw him in spite of myself

 

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head

 

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread (its all Fake News!)

 

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

 

And fill’d all the money bags (well, tried, but they were so filled with all the money I have); then

turn’d with a jerk;

 

And laying a finger on my nose (and emergency red button),

 

And giving a nod, the Secret Service lifted him and he rose.

 

He was flung onto his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle

 

And away they all flew, like the down of a thistle:

 

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight-

 

Merry Christmas (because we can say that now that I am President), and to all a good night. Well, to all Trump supporters a good night. Everyone else is a loser. And MAGA, I am sure he said MAGA.

 

 

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