Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the House,
Not a lawmaker was stirring, not even a louse.
The stockings were hung by the Capitol with care,
In hopes that bipartisanship soon would be there.
The nation was nestled, all snug in its views,
Red hats and blue banners, conflicting news.
With Trump in Mar-a-Lago, golf clubs in hand,
And voters divided across this fair land.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
The press corps rushed in to see what was the matter.
Away to the cameras they flew with a flash,
Determined to beat the influencers in a new media clash.
The moon on the breast of the political snow,
Gave a luster of drama to the debates below.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But Trump Force One and a crowd full of cheer.
With a comb-over perfect, so lively and plump,
I knew in a moment, it must be St. Trump.
More rapid than tweets his Cabinet came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now Bessent! Now Rubio! Now McMahon and Patel!
On RFK Jr., please no confirmation bombshells!
To the top of the polls! To the old border wall!
Now tweet away, tweet away, tweet away all!"
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The clinking and clanking of a golden hoof.
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
Down the chimney Trump came with a bound.
He was dressed in Brioni, from his head to his toe,
With a red power tie and a confident glow.
A sack full of tariffs he had flung on his back,
An isolationist trade policy, quite the throwback.
His eyes—how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were spray-tanned, his demeanor not wary.
His mouth, oh, it smirked with a confident air,
And his hands… well, they were definitely there.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his phone,
While journalists everywhere just wanted to go home.
And laying his finger aside of his missives,
He pressed 'Send' and awaited the response, dismissive.
He sprang to his jet, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like a Houthi-launched missile.
But I heard him exclaim, as he soared out of sight:
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all: Fight, fight, fight!"
Editors note: The 1600 will be back on 12/26. Happy holidays!