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  • Dec 23 / 2019
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Your Weekly Politickle: BROKEN RECORD

“You can stop acting like a snotty puss,
It’s beginning to get monotonous,
I’ve said all I will say,
So just know, Christmas Day,
You’re not getting a hippopotamus.”

From the archive

Twas the morning of Christmas, when all through the house
All the family was frantic, including my spouse;
For each one of them had one thing only in mind,
To examine the presents St. Nick left behind.

The boxes and wrapping and ribbons and toys
Were strewn on the floor, and the volume of noise
Increased as our children began a big fight
Over who got the video games, who got the bike.

I looked at my watch and I said, slightly nervous,
“Let’s get ready for church, so we won’t miss the service.”
The children protested, “We don’t want to pray:
We’ve just got our presents, and we want to play!”

It dawned on me then that we had gone astray,
In confusing the purpose of this special day;
Our presents were many and very high-priced
But something was missing — that something was Christ!
I said, “Put the gifts down and let’s gather together,
And I’ll tell you a tale of the greatest gift ever.

“A savior was promised when Adam first sinned,
And the hopes of the world upon Jesus were pinned.
Abraham begat Isaac, who Jacob begat,
And through David the line went to Joseph, whereat
This carpenter married a maiden with child,
Who yet was a virgin, in no way defiled.

“Saying ‘Hail, full of Grace,’ an archangel appeared
To Mary the Blessed, among women revered:
The Lord willed she would bear — through the Spirit — a son.
Said Mary to Gabriel, ‘God’s will be done.’

“Now Caesar commanded a tax would be paid,
And all would go home while the census was made;
Thus Joseph and Mary did leave Galilee
For the city of David to pay this new fee.

“Mary’s time had arrived, but the inn had no room,
So she laid in a manger the fruit of her womb;
And both Joseph and Mary admired as He napped
The Light of the World in his swaddling clothes wrapped.

“Three wise men from the East had come looking for news
Of the birth of the Savior, the King of the Jews;
They carried great gifts as they followed a star –
Gold, frankincense, myrrh, which they’d brought from afar.

“As the shepherds watched over their flocks on that night,
The glory of God shone upon them quite bright,
And an angel explained the intent of the birth,
Saying, ‘Glory to God and His peace to the earth.’

“For this was the Messiah whom prophets foretold,
A good shepherd to bring his sheep back to the fold;
He was God become man, He would die on the cross,
He would rise from the dead to restore Adam’s loss.

“Santa Claus, Christmas presents, a brightly lit pine,
Candy canes and spiked eggnog are all very fine;
Let’s have fun celebrating, but leave not a doubt
That Christ is what Christmas is really about!”

The children right then put an end to the noise,
They dressed quickly for church, put away all their toys;
For they knew Jesus loved them and said they were glad
That He’d died for their sins, and to save their dear Dad.

Last week’s limerick

Do not question a dubious stat,
But defer to a wise bureaucrat:
Just suspend common sense
And accept the pretense,
So we’re told by a fatheaded brat.

  • Dec 16 / 2019
  • 0

Your Weekly Politickle: GRETA GARBLE

Do not question a dubious stat,
But defer to a wise bureaucrat:
Just suspend common sense
And accept the pretense,
So we’re told by a fatheaded brat.

From the archive

All the kids make a merry mad dash
And they open their gifts in a flash,
But they leave all the wrapping
On the floor while they’re napping
And the gifts get thrown out with the trash.

Oh yes, Christmas is coming, my dear,
In three weeks it will truly be here,
But please don’t forget
That it hasn’t come yet:
It’s called “Advent” at this time of year.

“Christmas makes mom happy, yet
Only makes our dad upset;
By Eastertime,
His mood is fine,
When he’s paid off all the debt.”

When you’re down to me, you’re through,
No more shopping left to do.
There is only one gift
That will give me a lift:
All I want for Christmas is you.

Some in sorrow the very name eases,
Some in excess the same name displeases:
Why is one thus engaged
And the other enraged,
Why such different reactions to Jesus?

Do you feel you’ve been left in the lurch
And not found what you sought in your search?
Why continue to roam
When it’s time to come home?
Why not join us this Christmas in church?

Comes the end of the overlong night
And the dawn of the life-giving Light:
Pagans say Christians stole this,
But the old winter solstice
Foreshadowed a predestined rite.

I’m not certain it actually pays
To be part of the Black Friday craze.
Am I first in the store?
No, I’m at the wrong door
– After camping out 25 days.

Briefly now is theirs the throne,
Fame and fortune overblown,
And the ones oppressed
Ever after blessed
When the Savior claims His own.

If these weeks must be spent at the mall,
Baskets bulging with kitsch big and small;
Christmas prelude must be
A nonstop shopping spree,
Do we miss the true gist of it all?

Once in time a virgin birth
Incarnated on the earth
God’s Son despised
And sacrificed
To redeem us by His worth.

“If you really would like to assist us,
Please bring everything on our list, plus
A candidate we
Can support heartily –
Because that’s what we want most for Christmas!”

This Christmas, I’m not being shy;
I want something no money can buy:
For our country to be
Always brave, always free,
Always true to our Father on high.

I remember with special delight
How each holiday had its own rite:
Now that commerce trumps living,
We skip over Thanksgiving
And start Christmas on Halloween night.

Tis the season of change and of hope –
The kind that is real and not soap –
But, to meet your Messiah,
You will have to look higher
Than some fast-talking, power-mad dope.

There is nothing quite so pleasant
As an instant evanescent:
With the past behind
And no future defined,
We are given the perfect present.

Thanta, there’th a thpaith
I’d like you to replaith:
I’ll jump with glee
When all can thee
The thmile upon my faith.

“I know just what I want for a gift,
And I’ll throw such a fit if I’m stiffed!
If you fail to come through,
Who knows what I might do?”
The pathetic executive sniffed.

At Thanksgiving we pull out the stopper
On commercialized Christmastime proper:
We’ll have six months to pay,
But stay out of the way
Of the stampeding psychotic shopper!

All the creches are empty, it’s true,
And I’m waiting for Jesus anew;
Harking back to the Book,
I know now where to look:
I must find the Lord Jesus in you.

There is less than a month left, you know,
Only 21 days in a row,
Barely 500 hours
To buy yours, mine, and ours,
30,000 mere minutes to go!

If you find “Frohliche Weihnachten” odd,
“Buon Natale” and “Feliz Navidad,”
Even “Joyeux Noel”
Unfamiliar as well,
“Merry Christmas” should then get the nod.

Tell me how can an innocent Child —
Holy Infant, so tender and mild —
Be the object of scorn
From the moment He’s born:
Rejected, resented, reviled?

Is there somewhere I can go
That the Santas do not know,
A Santa-free zone
I can call my own
And not hear that “ho ho ho”?

“Merry Christmas!” she crowed, and then smiled,
Leaving less seasoned shoppers beguiled.
“Now get out of my way
‘Cause I don’t have all day
And I must have that toy for my child!”

So what if you feel disempowered
By someone who’s grimaced or glowered?
If you’re frightened to say
“Merry Christmas” today,
You’re simply a Noel coward!

He’s known plenty of struggle and strife,
But George Bailey is blessed with a wife
And family and friends
On whom he depends:
What he has is a wonderful life.

Who but a hardhearted heathen
For some nefarious reason
Would ignore the morn
When our Savior was born
And call Christmas the “holiday season”?

Last week’s limerick

Call him Adam who likes to tell lies,
Call him Adam with crazy bug eyes,
Call him Adam whose friends
Often come to bad ends,
Call him Adam this guy in disguise.

  • Dec 09 / 2019
  • 0

Your Weekly Politickle: MADAM SCHIFF

Call him Adam who likes to tell lies,
Call him Adam with crazy bug eyes,
Call him Adam whose friends
Often come to bad ends,
Call him Adam this guy in disguise.

From the archive

A fruitcake came one day
And I sent it on its way.
The next day, then,
It was back again,
But here it cannot stay.

I sent it to one brother,
Who sent it to another.
It eventually
Came back to me,
In a package from my mother.

I sent it to a friend —
At least, he was ’til then.
He sent it back
With a caustic crack
And we never spoke again.

I sent it to my boss
And signed it “Santa Claus.”
My name he guessed
And readdressed
That spice-baked albatross.

I sent it to a client,
Who proved to be defiant:
It seems the space
In his office place
Is fruitcake noncompliant.

I picked someone at random
In hopes that he could stand ’em.
It was returned:
Somehow he’d learned
I was the Fruitcake Phantom.

If a fruitcake comes today,
I think I’ll let it stay.
It’s crystal clear
Its place is here —
And I must move away.

Some people will complain
Or think that you’re insane
When you send out ten
To foe and friend
And start a fruitcake chain.

But those ten people then
Will send out ten again:
Not one will deign
To break the chain
And risk a tragic end.

One caution you should heed
Before you do proceed:
What you send out may
Come back one day
In numbers you don’t need.

When I say this, I’m being sincere:
I don’t dislike fruitcake, my dear.
It’s just I’m bewildered
’Cause it looks so familiar –
Like the one that I gave you last year.

Last week’s limerick

“I surrender and beseech thee:
Though I know you’d like to teach me
A lesson or two,
I beg of you,
Please, please, please, do not impeach me!”

  • Dec 02 / 2019
  • 0

Your Weekly Politickle: BRIAR PATCH

“I surrender and beseech thee:
Though I know you’d like to teach me
A lesson or two,
I beg of you,
Please, please, please, do not impeach me!”


Rudolph the Hard-Nosed Lawyer
Had some very scary foes,
And if you ever had some
You would know how that goes.

All of the local riffraff
Used to laugh and call him names,
They couldn’t get good Rudolph
To join in any riffraff games.

Then one Foggy Bottom eve,
Donald came to say,
“Rudolph, with your hard-nosed fight,
Won’t you drain the swamp tonight?”

Then all the riffraff loathed him,
And they shouted out, “We’ll plea!
Rudolph the Hard-Nosed Lawyer,
We’ll go down in ignomy.”

You’ve printed out your list and trolled us with your glassy stare
Rudy, are you contemplating throwing us somewhere?
Handwriting on the wall says we’re penitentiary-bound
Oh Rudy, don’t take us lowlifes down

It’s hard to justify a life that’s bent and compromised
And the wants and the needs of our criminal ways. Rudy, we realize
That it won’t be long: We’ve heard them say we’re penitentiary-bound
Oh Rudy, don’t take us lowlifes down
*To the tune of Kenny Rogers’ “Ruby”


Last week’s limerick

Every morning I wake up and pray
And give thanks for what might come my way,
’Cause I never expected
To be resurrected
And given the gift of this day.

  • Nov 25 / 2019
  • 0

Your Weekly Politickle: GOOD MORNING

Every morning I wake up and pray
And give thanks for what might come my way,
’Cause I never expected
To be resurrected
And given the gift of this day.

From the archive

T the time we have to run,
H the hope of heaven won,
A the angels to guide,
N the needs supplied,
K the kingdom of His Son.

“Thanks for everything!” should be our motto:
If we’re grateful, then how can we not crow
“Thank you! Thank you so much!”
“Merci!” “Danke!” and such,
“Xie xie!” “Grazie!” “Shukran!” “Arrigato!”?

Trump has won, there’s no way to annul it:
Celebrate with a Thanksgiving pullet,
But, before you eat, nod
And be grateful to God
That our country has just dodged a bullet.

“Like so many, I usually feel
That Thanksgiving is not a big deal.
As it once more draws near,
I feel different this year:
I’m invited somewhere for a meal.”

Though our Thanksgiving customs are charming,
Experts say one such custom is harming
Our environment and planet
And they may have to ban it:
This man-made, oven-based gobbler warming.

“Maw, I cain’t get the butcherin’ done.
You an’ Granny had both better run:
That big turkey’s a-fussin’
An’ comin’ for us’n –
With my hatchet and Paw’s 12-gauge gun!”

This Thanksgiving, may families join ranks
And remember to fill in the blanks:
So expression of gratitude
May be more than a platitude,
Let’s acknowledge to Whom we give thanks.

Thursday’s carcass long after supplies
Turkey Sandwiches, Stews, and Pot Pies;
Turkey Omelets, Fettucini,
Casseroles, Tetrazzini;
Turkey Gumbo, à la King, and Surprise.

We showed up in our holiday best,
With the exception of one honored guest,
So the dinner was late
And we all had to wait
Because “Tom” was not properly dressed.

The poor Tinman is lacking a heart,
While the Scarecrow is not very smart;
And the King of the Forest,
Expected to roar best,
Is reluctant to play a brave part.

A fried turkey injected with spice,
Shrimp-stuffed mirlitons and dirty rice,
Pecan pie, oyster dressing –
How we rush through the blessing!
Yes, a Creole Thanksgiving is nice.

If you’re thankful for your lot
And all the things you’ve got,
Then say a prayer
And give a care
For someone on the spot.

How much better can Thanksgiving get?
In my bedroom a 60-inch set,
And in HD displayed
This year’s Macy’s Parade:
Waking up to a scrumptious Rockette!

With the turkey and trimmings procured,
Our Thanksgiving repast is assured,
But it won’t be complete
’Til we sit down to eat
And the family’s as stuffed as the bird.

If your husband’s a Thanksgiving fan
And a cranberry sauce kind of man,
You might make him a batch
Of the sauce all from scratch,
But he’ll miss that weird goop in the can!

Lord, we ask of you a boon:
To bless our guests this noon.
We’re so grateful they
Could come today –
And have to leave real soon!

Hold your horses; we’re not in a race.
Get that drumstick away from your face.
Now put your fork down
And stop making that frown.
You can eat when we finish the grace.

Last week’s limerick

Donald Trump must be made to make amends
For the phone call he stoutly defends,
Say the ones who didn’t hear him
But have reason to fear him:
Adam Schiff and nefarious friends.

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