So here's to the season, both joyous and wild,
Where politics roar and truth stands exiled.
May your holidays sparkle, your sanity stay,
And let's hope for a better election someday!
(15/15)

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like a QAnon missile.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy chaos to all, and to all a loud fight!”
(14/15)

He spoke not of reason, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings with tweets from a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
He gave a loud sniff—oh God, not the pose!
(13/15)

He was chubby and slouched, a right jolly old grinch,
And I cringed when he spoke—oh, not even an inch!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had everything to dread.
(12/15)

The stump of a cigar he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a thin face and a not-so-flat belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
(11/15)

His eyes—how they twinkled! His smirk, how disarming!
His cheeks were all rosy, his lies so alarming!
His sly little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the scent of cheap scotch was the trail he would sow.
(10/15)

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his toe,
But his hair dye was streaming—a black, oily flow.
A bundle of ballots he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a burglar just opening his pack.
(9/15)

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The ranting and raving of each little goof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Giuliani came with a bound.
(8/15)

As lawsuits that fizzle when courts hear them fly,
When faced with some logic, they just up and lie.
So up to the housetop the cronies they flew,
With a sleigh full of grievances—and conspiracy stew.
(7/15)

“Now Giuliani! Now Jordan! Now Cruz and DeSantis!
On Boebert! On Greene! On chaos and antics!
To the top of the polls! To the top of the wall!
Now grift away! Grift away! Grift away all!”
(6/15)

With a spray-tanned driver, so loud and uncouth,
I knew in a moment it must be—oh, truth!
More rapid than fact-checks his cronies they came,
And he shouted, and tweeted, and called them by name:
(5/15)

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave the luster of midterms to objects below.
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a tiny red sleigh and eight grifters in gear.
(4/15)

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Hoping it wasn’t Rudy, knee-deep in the trash.
(3/15)