Thank You Republican Party

With the end of the 2011 baseball season and the winding down of a tremendous NCAA football season, there was bound to be a gap of seasonal boredom for the citizens of our country. By the end of October, 2011 most of us, forced to wait until mid-January for the new season of American Idol to begin, were settling down for what the Christmas poem calls ‘a long winter nap.’ But it was not to be. Instead of a frightening period fighting off seasonal affective disorder (SAD), the Republican Party through a series of organized debates (really?) came to the rescue. Better than any sit-com, this series of debates entertained and rescued us from our winter blues. I feel particularly motivated to write about these episodes to show my genuine appreciation to the Republican Party for providing us a wonderful escape from reality. What follows is my contribution to the funniest, most hilarious campaign season in our country’s history. The following poem can be sung either to the music of the Battle Hymn of the Republic or When the Saints Go Marching In. I will warn you that if you try to do so, you will wind up with a result that is roughly equivalent to what the Republican party has brought us so far in these debates.

‘Twas the night before Florida
and all through the state,
many Repubs were stirring
all bubbling with hate.
Their ballots were empty, they clung to their chairs
In the hopes that Newt Gingrich
Would soon prove to be theirs.
But it is not to be, Mitt said as he chattered,
Against this and against that, as if it all mattered.
When out in the field I heard the constant lament
Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it they said
If you do, Obama will win and we’ll all be dead.

On Bachman, On Perry, On Herman, On Paul,
Amusing it is and it’s been such a brawl
If it wasn’t for Huntsman, I could laugh at it all,
Trash away, bash away, dash away all.

For nary a thought or a plan I have heard,
‘cept for Herman’s 9-9-9 from the thundering herd.
A joke it’s all been as I rub my sore eyes,
and wait to see if there still is a surprise,
I hold my breath, I stay very still, I hear a small voice
Come from out in the throng.
Let me save you, says Sarah
The lamestream media are all wrong.
If you vote Newt now, we will survive.
Cause I can see Russia from my house on the shore
And I betcha by the end of his first term,
he’ll marry wife number five.

On Bachman, On Perry, On Herman, On Paul,
Amusing it is and it’s been such a brawl
If it wasn’t for Huntsman, I could laugh at it all.
Trash away, bash away, dash away all.