PHIL WIELAND: A seasonal ode from my Christmas commode

It's the night before the night before Christmas, the usual time

For us pseudo-poets to pen a holiday rhyme

That begins with the plagiarized phrase "’Twas the night ..."

We pseudo-poets are nothing if not trite.

My stockings aren't hung by the chimney with care

Because stockings aren't something I usually wear.

(Except with a dress I have that's black and clings,

For special occasions that call for such things.)

I expect my wife and I will relax by the tree

Christmas Eve while we surf for something on TV,

Like a holiday movie or something not boring.

It won't really matter, we'll both soon be snoring.

Somewhere up north the guy with the sleigh

Is preparing for his annual chimney-hopping foray.

The reindeer have rested since Christmas last year,

And Rudolph is getting quite plump, so I hear.

(They say, if he checked in his rear-view mirror,

All he would see is his own deer-y rear.)

The same could be said for the remaining eight.

The polar ice cap now groans ’neath their weight.

The elves are disgruntled, it seems the last straw

Was when Santa enacted a right-to-work law.

The reindeer are being asked to do a bit more.

Instead of eight or nine, he'll use but three or four.

He's had to cut back, high costs to avoid.

The reindeer should be happy they're all still employed.

Poor Santa's growing weary and wasting away

Worrying that terrorists will hijack his sleigh

Or that someone will think the jolly old elf

Is from some fanatic terrorist sect himself.

I mean, check out that red suit and that hat.

No normal person goes around dressed like that.

Fox News reports it has proof that is plain

That Santa's real middle name is Hussein.

If the red suit has no religious meanings,

It must mean Santa has communist leanings.

(Not that the commies are much of a threat.

The biggest red menace is the ink in our debt.)

With his red clothes it's more likely today

Someone will claim Santa Claus is gay.

Giving kids toys, the guy has some nerve.

He hangs out with elves, so he must be a perv.

In these days of fundamentalist paranoia

And presidential timber dumb as a sequoia;

While "Occupy" protesters demand Wall Street face

Up to its crimes, then get a face full of Mace;

While Congress dillies and dallies away,

And increase only the amount of their pay,

Let's be of good cheer as Christmas comes nigher

And throw another log on the yule fire.

Knock back a nog to toast the human race

Until we recall we don't have a fireplace.

We won't let that cause us pain or sorrow.

After all, I start my Christmas shopping tomorrow.

The opinions are those of the writer. He can be reached at phil.wieland@nwi.com or (219) 548-4352.