Bob Franken: Season’s hallucinations

T’was the time around Xmas, and all through the White House,

Not a creature was stirring, they were much further south.

For Trump’s jesters, reporters and the groupies who follow,

It was time for a break in rich Mar-a-Lago.

Melania was restless as she tossed in her bed,

She was missing her trees, the ones she dyed red.

Donald Trump was still up, it was no time for sleeping,

There was golf to set up, not to mention his tweeting.

He couldn’t relax, allow his insults to turn duller,

He had opponents to ravage, and attacks on Bob Mueller.

No visions of sugar plumbs danced in his head,

Just Cohen and Flynn feeding into his dread.

And ways that he might use his power to pardon,

Before he’s an inmate, controlled by a warden.

So lost in a reverie over a presidential indictment,

The clatter on the lawn startled him, his heart racing, he was frightened.

“Mueller’s coming to get me, good lord, what a mess!”

He fleetingly thought he’d be under arrest.

His mind started racing with all the confusion,

In panic he was shouting, “There is no collusion!”

Then he composed himself, took a breath and a pause,

It was not the feds after all, just that perv Santa Claus.

He is usually jolly, but this year he was storming,

About how the North Pole was melting, drowning in global warming.

Had no presents at all, he was sarcastically droll,

All he brought for The Donald were some bags full of coal.

He carried an attitude, he’d never been meaner,

As he reached in a pocket to hand Trump a subpoena.

Involving Stormy, and Karen, and Trump’s aphrodisiacal fun,

Indictments where his name is “Individual One.”

But that wasn’t all that made Donnie nervous,

He wondered how Santa Claus had snuck past Secret Service.

He had quite a disguise, though he did appear fat,

But what fooled everyone was his red MAGA hat.

What to Trump’s wondering eyes was really obscene?

It was what the reindeer were plopping onto his green.

Santa, meanwhile, ignored them; he was really a boor,

Leaving deer piles behind him, he entered Trump’s door.

He had no more gifts but headed straight to the rear,

Right to the fridge, he was searching for beer.

All of these centuries, who would have thunk,

That jolly old elf was really a drunk?

But Don had no beer, just Diet Coke, no alcohol,

That’s one vice he doesn’t have, no drinking at all.

Which surprises his critics who witness his act,

His constant use of the alternative fact.

Some even say that their own diagnosis,

Is that POTUS is afflicted with a raving psychosis.

“Remove him” a few say, others are more on the fence,

His replacement no better, after all it’s Mike Pence.

A few desperate ones have another approach,

They say, “There must be a way that we could impeach both.”

Claus was anxious to leave, his search for booze thwarted,

He needed to get out before being deported.

He didn’t have papers and in this immigrant climate,

He was nothing more than a threatening “migrant.”

So he shouted, “On Hannity, Blitzer, Acosta,”

“Happy holidays all, including this monster.”

Who is mostly known for his gross falsifying,

Or let’s call it what it is, he’s constantly lying.

This report of what happened is based on some interviews,

But Trump denies everything, says it’s only “fake news.”

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