“On Dumber and Blitzen!” Rand Paul’s “T’was the Week Before Christmas” omnibus spending poem is … kind of amazing actually

You can’t rightly call this a moment of zen, but this Christmas reading from Sen. Rand Paul has a way of being both satisfying and infuriating at the same time.

Satisfying he’s giving it to them in a clever way. Infuriating Republicans have let us get to this point AGAIN.

Anyway, here’s Rand Paul’s reading of “T’was the Week Before Christmas,” his original rewrite that focuses on the insane Omnibus spending spree bonanza.

This should feel dumber than it does but somehow it’s kind of amazing.

Here’s the text, formatted all poem-like fer ya.

T’was a week before Christmas
  and through the Senate and House,
not a creature was stirring,
  not even a mouse.

The earmarks were hung
  by the chimney with care
in hopes that Saint Nicholas
  soon would be there.

The senators were nestled
  all snug in their beds
while visions of pork
  danced in their heads.

No budget was found,
  just mischief and debt,
while the taxpayers hung
  their foreheads and wept.

When out on the lawn
  there arose such a clatter.
Senators sprang from their oxygen.
  What was the matter?

Away to the window,
  they flew like a flash.
Tore open the shutters
  when they heard the word cash.

The moon on the breast
  of the new fallen snow
gave the luster of midday
  to objects below.

When what to my wondering
  eyes should appear?
But a 4,000 page omni
  with endless debt year after year.

With a little old driver
  so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment
  it must be Saint Nick.

More rapid than eagles
  his coursers they came.

And he whistled and shouted
  and called them by name:
Now, McConnell! Now, Schumer!
  Now, Pelosi and Vixen!
On Biden! On Stupid!
  On Dumber and Blitzen!

To debt! To bankruptcy!
  To free money for all!
Now dash away, dash away
  more cash for all!

And then in a twinkling,
  I heard on the roof
the prancing and pawing
  of each little hoof.

As the economy threatened
  to run aground,
Down the chimney
  Saint Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur
  from his head to his foot.
And his clothes were all tarnished
  With ashes and soot.

His eyes how they twinkled,
  His dimples, how merry.
His cheeks were like roses,
  His nose like a cherry.

This spending season,
  instead of naughty and nice,
Santa brought everyone something
  regardless of price.

He was chubby and plump.
  A right, jolly old elf.
And I laughed when I saw him
  in spite of myself.

A wink of his eye
  and a twist of his head.
He said, not to worry,
  There’s always the Fed.

He spoke not a word
  and went straight to his work.
Undeterred by the debt,
  he turned with a jerk.

For naughty Pentagon
  that lost billions last year.
A fat stocking with
  extra cash and cheer.

And don’t forget a delicious
  candy cane, sweet.
With forty billion dollars
  to tide over Ukraine.

Because of the climate,
  it’s not PC to leave coal.
No one seems to care
  ‘Cause we’re trillions in the hole.

Don’t worry about leaving
  the budget a mess.
Democrats have given you
  87,000 agents of the IRS.

So Saint Nick laid his finger
  aside his nose
and giving a nod
  up the chimney, he rose.

He sprang to hs sleigh,
  his economist agog,
numbing the pain
  with a cup of eggnog.

Up and away
  though the country in tatters.
Free stuff for all.
  Sky high prices don’t matter.

His last words as the wind
  lifted his sleigh.
If people like money, just print.
  It’s okay.

But I heard him exclaim
  ‘ere he drove out of sight.
‘Happy bankruptcy to all,
  and to all, a good night!

Via his Twitter, of course.


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