uthinki Considered Opinion?
‘Twas the time before Christmas, in a droning 2025
Not without wars stirring, talks of peace, if left alive;
The future stockings of 2026-7 edited here and there,
In hopes sensationalism, or lawsuits, if without care;
As children were nestled all snug in their beds,
A visionary figure paced, and plumbed at the red
And the Grinch in green, said he didn’t need this crap,
Krampus said no thrashings, listen to his wrists crack—
When nativity scenes on lawns caused such a clatter,
Sprang patriarchy and cultural appropriation the matter.
A way before Black Friday sales lingered longer than a flash,
Tore at his beard did the figure, and twirled his moustache.
The moon seemed closer than delivery this year he did know,
Gave the thought of somehow using an unladen swallow;
When, the Christmas Elves in wonderment did appear,
Suggesting an e-sleigh, and forget using reindeer,
With anyone as a driver, they’re so lively in quick,
Know not giving way, rules, licences, or safety schtick.
More rapidly he looked as his helpers came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and want’d a list of names:
Now! Dasher, now! Dancer, now! Prancer and Vixen,
On! Comet, on! Cupid, on! Dunder and Blixem;
Top to bottom, checked twice! Yes, tariffs given to all!
Now he dashed away! But returned! For he did recall!
As he had found a way to still make reindeer fly,
Rudolph was American made, thus no tariffs apply;
So Jesus was asked were He King of Israel as carols knew,
With a turn of His other cheek—He said about Palestine too:
And in a twinkling, to be heard the Prophet stood aloof
Humming and hawing, like Kwanzaa, there’s many a truth.
As the ledger drew towards balancing by leap and bound,
Downscaling Christmas to xmas meant more savings found:
Ham exchanged for spam, the unnecessary given the boot,
And could one of red velvet be swapped for a birthday suit;
Gold kept, frankincense ignored, and myrrh given back
And now finally things look’d like getting into the black:
Eyed the twinkling of the expensive roast turkey,
His thoughts returned to penguins on islands at sea;
Droll notes were passed, presented with many a bow,
And Frosty was told to give his fair share of snow;
Held all some wanted was their two front teeth,
And happy holidays encircled almost within reach.
One could have a broad face, belt-tightened taught belly
That fat had been trimmed from every nook and cranny:
Some trees were not stumps, and trinkets reshelved,
And deep fakes were saw as reinserted selves;
Despite all the fear, loathing, and sense of dread
Somehow they gave way to festivities instead.
Though spoke not a word, but written many as work,
And restock’d the puddings, from where they did lurk,
And squaring up papers, from the desk he arose
And gave a nod, pen down, the opus composed.
Ghosts of past, present, and future chewed on life’s gristle,
And as away they flew, even Scrooge knew it a miracle:
But for all exclaimed, biased, and even hallucinated AI insight—
Merry Christmas to all, and to all of 2025 a balanced good night!
