I am generally better suited to playing the role of Grinch than St. Nick, but as the new Era of Hope and Change dawns, I find myself compelled to load up a red satin bag with gifts, gags, and lumps of coal for some of our favorite politicos. I’m moved to paraphrase the brilliant work of Terry Pratchett and note that America has become a nation where elected officials are not so much revered as blamed. Given the recent track record of many who are currently perpetrating governance, I would not normally be inclined to spit on most of them if their hats were going up in flames, but this is the season of charity so we shall soldier on in the spirit of the day.
My first gift would have to be placed under the tree of Senator Hillary Clinton. (Sweet Baby Jesus, after eight long years here in New York I still find myself unable to type those three words sequentially without my morning coffee threatening to come back up the wrong way.) Were it not for her, the Democratic primary race might have been a boring affair, leaving many of us in the chattering class with little to occupy our time. And since she is already doing the Empire State a great favor by moving to new digs at Foggy Bottom, it is only fitting that we respond in kind. For you, Madam, a set of irregular, used luggage and a 10% off discount card from U-Haul. Don’t feel obliged to write.
Next up, I have some stocking stuffers for John Murtha, Ted Stevens, and Daniel Inouye. Each of you should receive a coupon for 52 free meals at Arthur Bryant’s Barbeque in Kansas City. Perhaps with that much high quality pulled pork in your systems, you can stop leading the charge to drive fiscal responsibility in Congress toward a slow, painful death. (Should Ted be unable to redeem his coupons due to incarceration, they may be exchanged for ten cartons of Marlboros, in the hope of postponing permanent “bitch status.”) Chow down, boys.
No Secret Santa list would be complete without a $100.00 gift card from the Casual Male Big and Tall Shop for Larry Craig. Trust me, Senator, we all know how hard it can be to find properly fitted clothing for those with a wide stance.
Rahm Emanuel will open his Christmas card from yours truly and find a one year subscription to the New York Times. Assuming you somehow escape the tender yet toxic embrace of Rod Blagojevich and slither away from trouble, you shall doubtless find yourself with a rapidly growing list of people to whom you will wish to mail dead fish. Given the Gray Lady’s recent woes, their future as ideal fish wrapping seems assured, so the gift should see frequent use.