Seasons Greetings from FDL

T'was the night before Christmas and throughout Cellblock A,
Not an inmate was stirring, not even Bob Ney.
The jail guards on duty watched their screens with one eye
As Jack Abramoff tossed in his bunk with a sigh.

Over at the White House, George Bush slumped in his chair
And stared at the trees blooming in warm winter air.
A bottle of Jack sat on the desk by his hand
He wondered why nothing had gone like they'd planned.

Upstairs, Laura lay in the First Couple's bed
And watched the sugar plum fairies dance 'round her head.
Jenna and her sis drank their way through the night
And scoffed at the thought that they should join in Dad's fight.

At the Veep's house, Darth Cheney fondled his nub
And growled lustfully at all the cash in his tub.
Lynne was still steamed at how the news had made hay
That her lesbian daughter was in the family way.

Rumsfeld slept soundly despite the Iraq folly
His first speaking fee gaining interest, by golly.
So a few thousand soldiers had given their lives
This is how a messy new democracy thrives.

No campaign in her future, just more of the same,
Where her "husband" fucked up and she took the blame.
Condi sat at her piano and longed for the day
She returned to Stanford and could be openly gay.

What happened to their plan, the one now deceased?
Where they'd control all the oil in the Middle East?
The one where the military industrial complex thrives
While it destroys countless American lives?

You see, the giant had woken;
a disturbance was heardSomewhere over by Constitution and Third.
A woman "dressed in Armani" had taken the helm
And proposed some big changes in King George's realm.

A quick glance at some video and you got the gist
America had grown tired of Bill "Cat-Killer" Frist.
Voters refused to re-elect someone so dumb
As self-righteous git, Senator Rick Santorum.

A giddiness coursed through the globe's hemispheres
For a return to good government soon would be here!
Six long, painful years the world had suffered the crimes
Of a President who claims to believe in End Times.

But now is not the time to ease up on Dim Son.
Real change still needs to come out of Washington.
Sure, the Chimperor speaks of bipartisanship
But his word is as good as three week-old spinach dip.

The media, as well, must be made to account,
While the numbers of dead continue to mount.
Like eager freshmen donning their Rush Week beanies
Pundits sacrifice truth for their damned cocktail weenies.

Now right-wing nutjobs frantically scramble to find
A new bugaboo they can all get behind.
A Muslim American sworn in on a Koran?
My god, what will come next? We all move to Iran?

So go K.O., go Fitzy, go Media Matters!
Keep up the pressure on all these Mad Hatters.
On A-list, on B-list, and C-Z list bloggers
Fingers fleet like the feet of Riverdance cloggers.

One of these days we'll finally be able to shout
We worked as a team to kick the criminals out.
So those of you still doubting, be of good cheer.
The Internets, The Google, and Youtube are here.

A cynical optimist, I cling to the hope
That idiots hang themselves when given the rope.
That these villainous fiends who spread war like the plague
Will all wind up shackled in the dock at The Hague.

Happy Holidays to all and peace to the world. And as soon as possible, please.