’Twas the Night Before Christmas (And Democracy Was on Life Support)
By The Unredacted Bastard
’Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the land,
Not a conscience was stirring—not even the press.
The guardrails were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that some grown-ups might still fucking be there.
The donors were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of tax cuts danced in their heads.
The networks poured wine and rehearsed their restraint,
Calling open corruption “a little bit quaint.”
When out on the lawn, there arose such a clatter,
I grabbed for my phone—Jesus Christ, what the fuck is the matter?
Away to the feed I flew like a flash,
Scrolled past threats, lies, and monetized trash.
The moon on the breast of the freshly spread lies
Gave the luster of truth to corporate alibis.
When what to my bloodshot, exhausted eyes should appear
But a bloated gold sleigh pulled by grievance and fear.
With a driver so cruel, so belligerent, obscene,
I knew in a moment—it had to be Trump.
More rapid than ethics, his enablers they came,
And he slurred, and he shouted, and called them by name:
“Now, Coward! Now, Shill! Now, Shut-Up-and-Spin!
On, Grifter! On, Lawyer! On, ‘Both Sides Again!’
To the top of the courts! To the top of the polls!
Now fuck it! Now flood it! Now gaslight their souls!”
As facts that before a Fox chyron just die,
When they meet with denial, just wither and fry—
So up to the Capitol the shitweasels flew,
With a sleigh full of pardons and consequences he’d undo.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The stomping and roaring of constitutional goofs.
As I steadied my breath and turned halfway around,
Down the chimney slid power—unchecked, profound.
He was dressed all in red from his head to his shoes,
And his suit was all stained with contempt long accrued.
A sack full of favors was slung on his back,
And he looked like a man who’d just pulled one more hack.
His eyes—how they narrowed. His mouth—tight, controlled.
No bluster, no shouting. This wasn’t the old
rant-happy loudmouth who needed a crowd.
This was quiet entitlement, settled and proud.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Stuffed stockings with bullshit like a practiced jerk.
Courts got their hacks.
The press got its fear.
Congress got donors who wouldn’t be here.
He checked off his list with a cold little grin,
Not naughty or nice—just loyal or not in.
And laying one finger aside of his nose,
He smirked like a man who knows how this goes.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his cult gave a shout,
“Remember,” he barked, “this system works out.”
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight—
“Merry Christmas to me.
The rest of you?
Go fuck yourselves. Good night.”
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If you want the same collapsing circus judged calmly by a gray-and-white tuxedo cat with surgical side-eye, go read Lotus. Same reality. Fewer F-bombs. Sharper judgment.
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#TheUnredactedBastard #ChristmasEve #PoliticalSatire #Democracy #Authoritarianism #MediaFailure