Unhappy Holidays?

Inspired (?) by this story...

‘Twas some time before Christmas, and all through the house
Laura and Dubya were both getting soused
Once-loyal Bushies were scarcely in sight
With only Darth Cheney out prowling at night
Jenna was wearing a holiday glow
As soon-to-be-hubby enjoyed ho-ho-ho
And Bar at a frat house drank “GTs” galore
And now found herself all passed out on the floor

The first flakes of winter now slowly appeared
As Dubya no longer sought comfort in beer
After he stared at the new-falling snow
He opened his stash and went looking for “blow”
When what to his wondering eyes should appear
A Republican senator shaking with fear
“Please Mr. President,” John Warner said
“Help save our troops and don’t leave them for dead.”

“How’d you get into my house?” Dubya cried
“Had to – was freezing to death,” John replied
He then pleaded on, “I have here a bill
I pray that you read it – it’s not one to kill
It still shows support for the war in Iraq
But our people will know that you now ‘have their back’
Our forces in theater slowly we’ll purge
But if Maliki goes, you can salvage the surge.”

Dubya took it from Warner with care
Affixed his eye firm in a stuporous stare
Warner didn’t know quite what to think
When Dubya glanced up and gave him a wink
He saw that the Senator, oh so composed
Had jowly cheeks and a shiny red nose
But though he’s a pal, Bush still thought it a crock
He then cocked his fist and gave Warner a sock

The senator fell, holding onto his face
Despite the blood, all else was in place
I’d squash him, Warner thought in his grief
But this doofus is still the commander in chief!
The senator propped himself up by hand
As Dubya screamed, “This will not stand!
The first lady stirred with a thundering head
As she sat up, Dubya yelled, “Go back to bed!”

“Mr. President, listen,” Warner did plead.
“There’s no timeline here that will not let you lead.”
“No more,” said Dubya, stalking away
“Besides, what will Republicans say?
That I have no nerve? I won’t see it through?
I’ll tell you instead what to do.
Go find Brit Hume, Cavuto and crew
Even Wolf Blitzen. They’ll know what to do.

‘Round the clock airplay of Qaeda attacks
Those damn liberal Dems will stop dead in their tracks
DHS color codes, more Anthrax scares
And I’ll bring Karl back – they’ll be caught unawares.”
The senator saw there was no hope in sight
And prepared to head back out into the night
And we heard Bush exclaim as Warner left, sore
“Get your ass out the door, and long live the war!”

My sincerest apologies to the estate of Clement Clark Moore, by the way.