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... with apologies to the guy who made this style of poetic meter famous...

On a warm September morning we went shopping for some groceries
When we found ourselves confronted by a festive store display:
’Twas Kris Kringle, fat and jolly selling fireplace logs and holly!
Even though the friggin’ season was a whole 3 months away.

And although it was annoying, I surmised some redeploying
Of outdated stock displays, for to clear some warehouse space
Subtle was that resurrection of proactive reinfection:
Lo, the yuletide insurrection! - at a far too early pace.

Bible thumpers always growling and the neocons keep howling
“There’s a war on Christmas” fouling their ecclesiastic yore
But the cash cow must start early or investors will get surly
at the timing of that “sacred” season knocking at the door…

“War on Christmas?” how self-serving — how pedantic -  nevermore!

Then October found us looking for some end-of-season bargains
At the local hardware center, getting ready for the Fall
When my eyes they did drift upward as I saw an elfin statue
Decked in glowing LEDs with a reindeer on the wall

It was though as time leapt forward two whole months without a warning
Christmas lighting - Christmas tinsel - Christmas ornaments and more
Plastic fir trees, glowing ribbons, neon candy canes and chestnuts
Early Christmas Merchandizing had infected our old store!

And wherever we went shopping, there were more and more eye popping
Christmas sales and yuletide items on display to deck the halls
I confess it was surprising fast as Halloween was rising
That they didn’t sell a costume of a zombie Santa Claus.

“War on Christmas?” Are they kidding? What a rip off- nevermore.

I look forward to November every year as I grow older
When Thanksgiving time comes ‘round and we regroup as families do
To give thanks for what we’ve earned and are grateful for our fortune
Kids and grandkids raising hell while their elders quaff their brew

But when shopping for a turkey one must struggle through the quirky
Bargain hunters and aggressive shopping mavens without fear
For the prime time retail season knows no common sense or reason
And Black Friday is the pinnacle of profit for the year.

So as we bow in supplication in our tortured, angry nation
Being thankful for what little we have left and hope for more
Corporate profits keep on soaring while their management is snoring
As they dream of counting bags of money covering their floor.

At least Scrooge found joy in giving - now it's just a common chore.

Soon enough the season closes and head colds infect our noses
As the object of the season is forgotten to the gifts.
And another year of whining from the right wing, always pining
For their exclusive christian nation they so eagerly adore

“War on Christmas”? SELF-INFLICTED! Shut your pie-holes!


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