Monday, November 02, 2009

You're a Mean One, Gov. Grinch

Would it be a small problem, or maybe a large,
If the Whos, by mistake, had the Grinch put in charge?
What if, without knowing, the wrong man was selected?
What if the Grinch, in disguise, was elected?
To some, such a thing might seem rather unlucky,
But they’re asking this question in Frankfort, Kentucky.

In the city of Frankfort, the Capitol town,
They’re trying to take the state’s Christmas tree down.
To be more precise, the tree’s being replaced
By something much more to ACLU taste.
The change can be traced to some government types
Who don’t want to hear people’s groans or their gripes.

Among these, it’s said, is a high public official
Who thinks Christmas trees are too prejudicial.
To have one, he thinks, would be much too offensive.
A Christmas tree might make some people defensive.
The man who is lacking in Yuletide good cheer
Is none other than Gov. Stephen Beshear.

He’s made up his mind; he’s not going to change it.
He’s not taking calls, so don’t try to arrange it.
In fact, he’s already made his public decisions
About the traditional state Christmas provisions,
In a pronouncement that could have come straight from Mt. Crumpit
He told all the Whos down in Whoville to lump it.

From the governor’s office, where fingers were drumming
He announced, “I must prevent Christmas from coming!”
He said in a strong-throated country drawl,
“The best way to do Christmas is not to do it at all.”
And the way he will do this, he said with a frown,
“Is to put some things up and to take some things down.”

“Instead of the state decking halls for the season,
Why not give the whole Christmas time thing a new reason?
Take the pop guns, the skates, the drums, and the bicycles,
The stockings, the popcorn, the plums, and the tricycles...
What if, instead of the Whos’ having a feast,
We took the Who pudding, and took the roast beast …

“And used them for something a lot more inclusive,
Something less troublesome, and much less obtrusive.
What if, instead of the Yule celebration,
We did something else that is sweeping the nation?
Instead of observing what Christmas is for,
Let’s shove the traditions right out the front door?

“Angels and shepherds and babies and mangers,
The whole Christmas thing is filled up with dangers
There must be no trace of nativity scenes
Or Linus explaining just what the day means.
Mary, and Joseph, and ‘no room in the inn,’”
Said Gov. Grinch—or maybe his twin,

“Let’s have a holiday not so exclusive,
One the ACLU lawyers won’t find so abusive.
In order to avoid any Whos being offended,
We must see that the whole Christmas thing is upended.
The best thing to do, we’re sure all will agree,
Is to put up a newfangled ‘Holiday Tree.’”

In case it was said with too little directness
He’s making the case for politi-correctness.
There’s Hanukah, Kwanzaa, and Thanksgiving day,
Let’s lump them together so we can hear people say:
“Umoja!" “Shalom!” and "Kujichagulia!"
Anything, as long as it’s not, “Halleluia!”

The real Grinch, just in case some have forgot,
Learned a valuable lesson, and learned it a lot.
His heart, which to start was two-sizes too small,
Got bigger and did so in no time at all.
The lesson is one we can’t help but to mention:
It’s well worth the Governor’s Grinchy attention.

His cave now stands vacant, there’s nobody in it.
But the Grinch’s old home could be filled in a minute.
It was put on the market, but never was sold
It still has his furniture, food, and some mold.
But it’s perfect for those whose Grinchified missions
Have made them into out-of-work politicians.


Anonymous said...

Martin, this is one of the finest examples of Vogon Poetry I have ever read! Are you a Vogon?

Anonymous said...

"Vogon Poetry is of course the third worst in the Universe. The second worst is that of the Azgoths of Kria. During a recitation by their poet master Grunthos the Flatulent of his poem, Ode To A Small Lump of Green Putty I Found In My Armpit One Midsummer Morning, four of his audience died of internal haemorrhaging, and the President of the Mid-Galactic Arts Nobbling Council survived by gnawing one of his own legs off ... The very worst poetry of all perished along with its creator Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings of Greenbridge, Essex, England in the destruction of the planet Earth."

Martin Cothran said...

Never heard of it. Where do I join?