Lisa Fabrizio
A visit from St. Hillary
By Lisa Fabrizio
With sincerest apologies to Democrats everywhere and, once again, to Clement Clark Moore.
Twas the night before Christmas in 2008,
All the liberals were happy, but not quite sedate;
Their thoughts lifted skyward, their lips formed a prayer,
In hopes that St. Hillary might disappear.
They gazed at their navels and pondered their threads,
While Inaugural party dreams danced in their heads;
With the lefties in charge on the Hill once again,
I'd started to doze so I laid down my pen.
When out in the Beltway arose such a clatter,
I figured I'd get up and check out the chatter;
Away to the boob tube I frantically raced,
Where on to DC sped the broadcast with haste.
The show was well-peopled with moderates aglow:
Zell Miller, Joe Lieberman, even John Breaux;
But just as my eyes were beginning to close,
All the people assumed a most worshipful pose.
With a tilt of her head and a bounce in her gait,
I knew that it must be the Mistress of State!
To the steps of the podium Hillary flew;
And she whistled and shouted and called out her crew:
Now Daschle! Now Holder!
Now Geithner Now Rahmbo!
On Orszag! On Vilsack!
On Napolitano!
From the Cabinet Room, to the National Mall,
Now infiltrate! Infiltrate!
Infiltrate All!
As big bucks before Rod Blagojevich fly
When he meets with politicos, eager to buy;
So off to the White House her Myrmidons flew,
With a bagful of compromise from you know who!
And then just like magic appeared by her side,
An eminent man who is known the world wide;
And sniffing about for a chance to expound,
To the rostrum Bill Clinton advanced like a hound.
They were dressed all in black from their heads to their feet;
And a dashing pink blouse made Hill's outfit complete;
A tiny gold cross ringed her neck in soft light,
Which reminded me of a petite Reverend Wright!
His eyes were so cheery, his smile gave no warning,
That some in his party were soon to be mourning;
The triumphant poses and smiles that they wore
Made Daily Kos blogophiles long for Al Gore.
They balked at Iraqi War drawing-down dates,
And praised the shrewd acumen of Robert Gates;
And then Madame Clinton expressed admiration
While lauding the merits of triangulation!
She praised the young Barry but said he lacked guile,
Thus needing her talents for crossing the aisle:
"I'll deal with all folks, both domestic and foreign,
From devils like Putin to saints like Rick Warren."
The presser concluded, but no so my dreaming;
My half-shuttered eyes revealed both Clintons beaming!
In Hillary's hand was a chilled margherita;
And she looked for the world like a shiksa Evita!
And later that night when they'd let all the press go,
They huddled up tight like Obama and Reszko;
And I heard Hill exclaim with maniacal grin,
HAPPY CHRISTMAS, progressives! I told you I'd win!
© Lisa Fabrizio
December 25, 2008
With sincerest apologies to Democrats everywhere and, once again, to Clement Clark Moore.
Twas the night before Christmas in 2008,
All the liberals were happy, but not quite sedate;
Their thoughts lifted skyward, their lips formed a prayer,
In hopes that St. Hillary might disappear.
They gazed at their navels and pondered their threads,
While Inaugural party dreams danced in their heads;
With the lefties in charge on the Hill once again,
I'd started to doze so I laid down my pen.
When out in the Beltway arose such a clatter,
I figured I'd get up and check out the chatter;
Away to the boob tube I frantically raced,
Where on to DC sped the broadcast with haste.
The show was well-peopled with moderates aglow:
Zell Miller, Joe Lieberman, even John Breaux;
But just as my eyes were beginning to close,
All the people assumed a most worshipful pose.
With a tilt of her head and a bounce in her gait,
I knew that it must be the Mistress of State!
To the steps of the podium Hillary flew;
And she whistled and shouted and called out her crew:
Now Daschle! Now Holder!
Now Geithner Now Rahmbo!
On Orszag! On Vilsack!
On Napolitano!
From the Cabinet Room, to the National Mall,
Now infiltrate! Infiltrate!
Infiltrate All!
As big bucks before Rod Blagojevich fly
When he meets with politicos, eager to buy;
So off to the White House her Myrmidons flew,
With a bagful of compromise from you know who!
And then just like magic appeared by her side,
An eminent man who is known the world wide;
And sniffing about for a chance to expound,
To the rostrum Bill Clinton advanced like a hound.
They were dressed all in black from their heads to their feet;
And a dashing pink blouse made Hill's outfit complete;
A tiny gold cross ringed her neck in soft light,
Which reminded me of a petite Reverend Wright!
His eyes were so cheery, his smile gave no warning,
That some in his party were soon to be mourning;
The triumphant poses and smiles that they wore
Made Daily Kos blogophiles long for Al Gore.
They balked at Iraqi War drawing-down dates,
And praised the shrewd acumen of Robert Gates;
And then Madame Clinton expressed admiration
While lauding the merits of triangulation!
She praised the young Barry but said he lacked guile,
Thus needing her talents for crossing the aisle:
"I'll deal with all folks, both domestic and foreign,
From devils like Putin to saints like Rick Warren."
The presser concluded, but no so my dreaming;
My half-shuttered eyes revealed both Clintons beaming!
In Hillary's hand was a chilled margherita;
And she looked for the world like a shiksa Evita!
And later that night when they'd let all the press go,
They huddled up tight like Obama and Reszko;
And I heard Hill exclaim with maniacal grin,
HAPPY CHRISTMAS, progressives! I told you I'd win!
© Lisa Fabrizio
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