Connecting the Dots: ’Twas the Night before Christmas’ … for the 10th time


Published: 12/23/2022 2:43:39 PM
Modified: 12/23/2022 2:40:55 PM

Today’s column marks the tenth anniversary on which I have “reinterpreted” the classic “A Visit from St. Nicholas” (aka “‘Twas the Night Before Christmas”), a poem that first appeared in the Troy (New York) Sentinel on Dec. 23, 1823. There was no author’s name attached to it. It remained unattributed for 13 years until the professor/poet Clement Clarke Moore stepped forward to claim the work. The story goes that Moore had written the poem for his children. And a housekeeper found it and liked it so much that she sent it to the newspaper — without Moore’s knowledge.

In any case, my anniversary special always manages to elicit (provoke?) heavy duty responses from both sides of the Red/Blue spectrum. It has been my intention for the past 10 years to inject a little light humor into the increasingly dark times we find ourselves living in. That’s easier said than done!

I will attempt to be more upbeat in this year’s rewording of this classic poem. That said, how can anyone resist watching how DeSantis claws his way to the top of the wailing wall over the remains of Humpty Trumpty below who is celebrating Christmas this year by singing “Oh, Come All ‘Ye’ Hateful” to dine on antisemitic and racist porridge? Onward …

‘Twas the night before midterms, and all through the House,

McCarthy had assembled every Red MAGA louse.

Giddy with joy, they read polling dreamware

That promised to avoid their 2020 nightmare.



While Ivanka and Jared nestled smug in their beds,

Forty-Five hid classified files in sheds

Liz Cheney had had it with all of his crap,

And wrapped him up for a long winter’s nap.



When out on Fox Noise I heard such a clatter,

I said to Alexa, what IS the matter?

Abominable Carlson was spewing his trash,

All QAnon crap that made my teeth gnash.



The moon on the terrace at Mar-a-Lago

Shined the lustre of mid-day on he who must go

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But this self-absorbed self at the end of his career.



While back home in Greenfield, so lively and quick,

Local columnists, were having none of his schtick.

More rapid than on Twitter, their columns they came,

And I whistled with wonder, and called them by name:





Your deadlines are calling, there’s no time to stall!

Now write away! write away! write away all!”



As Trump’s dishonesty is anything but shy,

Our Opinion Page writers keep telling us why

Authoritarian politicians continue to spew

Fake news about what the Democrats do.



My hopes and heart sinking, I wanted the truth,

Not the prancing and fawning over he, the uncouth.

On Elon’s new Twitter with QAnon unbound,

Trumpublican acolytes continued to confound.



Spouting fake views from her head to her foot,

A conspiracy theorist, she just wants to put

Her slay-full of lies in a congressional attack;

For Marjorie Taylor Green, this is her knack.



His eyes — how they twinkled! His scruples how scary!

Ohio’s James Jordan, a Trump mercenary,

“Earned” his Presidential Medal from Trump who he swore,

Never said anything wrong to apologize for.



The next advisor from the world beneath

Where racism encircled his head like a wreath;

The advice from Stephen Miller was unbearably smelly

That stank when he claimed voter fraud on the telly.



And then there was Sinema, so full of herself,

That I laughed when I saw her, in spite of myself;

No longer a Dem, an Independent instead,

Soon gave me to know she’s politically dead.



The Donald was grumpy and increasing his wealth

Selling Non-Fungible Trading cards all by himself.

Accused of four criminal charges, everyone knows,

He’s a very sore loser, as the grinch in him shows.



But mid-term results gave us reason to whistle,

Yet democracy’s fragile, like the down of a thistle.

Putting politics to rest on this Christmas Eve night,

I bless everyone for continuing the good fight.


While Greenfield resident John Bos no longer believes in Santa Claus, he still hangs out his stocking with care wishing for something less toxic than a lump of coal. You can read about his quest for clean air and a clean congress in “Connecting the Dots” every other Saturday in the Recorder. Holiday greetings, questions and comments are always invited at


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