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Wed Sep 11, 2013 at 03:05 AM PDT

'Twas the night before Christmas

by makaio

An idea that came to mind, technically yesterday the 10th. Standing by for it being a fleeting post and/or being roundly criticized for literary shortcomings, English 101 goofs, topical confusion, Christmas fouls, and Moore/Livingston crimes.

To all a good night!  :-)

- - - -

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all around the globe,
Monstrous creatures were stirring, even Karl Rove.
Empty chairs were hung from some trees with care,
With hopes that more wackjobs would materialize from thin air.

The thoughtful nestled all snug in their beds,
While valiant soldiers guarded everyone and everything from a to zed.
Moms in their gowns, and dads in their boxers,
Had settled their minds for a sleep hoped to be proper.

When from the opposing dawn there arose such a clatter,
Our defenders sprang from their watch to see what was the matter.
Across the world there was a flash,
That tore limb from limb in a nightmarish thrash.

News broke well after midnight, as we could see in disbelief,
That the morning would be one of reaction and grief.
We turned to our windows to seek some respite,
From the horrors to be exposed through the remainder of night.

The moonlight on the leaves fallen yesterday,
Told us how distant we were from the facts far away.
When, what to our wondering ears should squawk,
An angry white guy on a carriage, led by eight abominations, both chicken and hawk.

This reckless driver, so callous, twisted and sick,
We knew in a moment, he had to be a Dick.
More rapid than ball shot, his mob they came,
And he growled, and snarled, and called them by name!

"Now Johnny! Now, Lindsay! Now, Sean! And Billy!
On, Rush! On, Glenn! On, Darrell! And Randy!
Waste not these limbs! Climb above the bodies! And scream out to all!
Shriek out, wail, and squeal! Let our zombies heed our call!"

Retched heaves cluttered the airwaves during their climb,
At times they came upon a truth, but for such their committees had no time.
Hastily up to the Fox transmitter did the tormented file,
Despite airtime being freely at hand, what with Roger, Rupert, and the whole pile.

Suddenly sounds sprang from behind, and we heard signals come across,
Ones grounded in reality, with care for those we lost.
As we turned around, channels told us of other people taking pause,
To care for families, to find out and learn from the cause.

But outside in the autumn cold, the brittle creatures hide their mirth,
Milking the deaths with feigned awe, for every ounce of hate they were worth.
With the engines of tolerance and logic doggedly making their way to the top,
The beasts wanted every naive vote to be got, even accounting for the ones they could stop.

And so it went for month upon month, until the Fox antenna went kaput,
Until the beasties were clad in nothing but rags, and tarnished from head to foot.
Alas, their pulpit was bent upon stopping time, wishing for eras long past,
When extending humanity to all humans, and even beyond, was handily downward cast.

Yet time's march, of all things, was the only hope they could keep,
A chance for true progress, yes, but this dream was buried generations deep.
The shallow promise they sought could only be found on the anniversary,
Boding darkness and terror, along with accusations sure to be cursory.

A day when it was easiest to blame anyone rising above hate,
Attacking people for any little thing making the miscreants irate.
A date when fear called out to the empty, offering a momentary path in the void,
Something again to pass the months ahead, a means to be occupied by being annoyed.

Through it all, snit after huff after fit, the signals remained ever present,
There before, on, and after September the Eleventh.
Patient and resolute words coming from rational heads,
Soon gave us to know we had nothing to dread.

They spoke their words when not hard at their works,
And filled radio waves with confidence, proving time and again how degenerates were jerks.
They affirmed deaths were not to exploit, not for useless combat shall our losses be annexed.
Our friends and family will be honored, and their memories will not be tools for the vexed.

We loved how their eyes twinkled, how they made us merry!
We smiled when we saw them, and our burdens they helped us to carry.
And come what may, our signals will forever come and go both in and out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"


I got hung up tonight on the claims from some gun owners, self-styled experts, that the President's shotgun photo was a fake. So night is turning to day, I've finished my effort via an email, and I thought I'd try to post it here.

This written effort began at 5am, so if I screw things up I'll fix them later today. The authenticity of the President's August 4th, 2012, photo is challenged on three fronts, not including his stance and whatever I've missed from folks who hate what's happened. Of all things, he met their requests for a photo, and on top of that we now have these TCU references to him skeet shooting. How horrible for the haters.

Sorry to digress. More after the orange thing that's between me and my bed.

Continue Reading


Sorry to simply post the news, but I was stunned (even though I know I shouldn't be) to read about Paul Ryan's bus stop at a Youngstown, Ohio, soup kitchen for a photo-op.

- His campaign (imho) avoided going through the president of the organization running the kitchen.
- They said some quick "hello"s to folks upon entering a dining facility that was already very clean, since the visit was outside of meal times.
- He and his team brought their own brand new aprons to wear for the entire Ryan family.
- They proceeded to spray some water on clean dishes.  I presume they dried them too, but I didn't have the stomach to keep watching this callous man & his wife in the two-minute video at the link.

Paul Ryan is a horrible, not to mention publicly stupid, human being.  If someone knows how to get better traction on this, feel free to do whatever's needed.

Have a good day!

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