December 24, 2008
The Night Before Christmas
Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house;
Not a creature was stirring, save one drunken louse.
The drywall hung by the chimney in pieces;
Above several piles of some rodent’s feces.
There were no children snuggled up in their beds;
This house now a haven for meth- and crack-heads.
When out on the lawn there arose a distraction;
It woke all the squatters, though their minds got no traction.
Away to the windows, through debris they all forded;
But they couldn’t see out, for the windows were boarded.
Peeking through the front door, new-fallen snow so fine;
Was piling up on the “For Sale” sign.
The neighborhood was empty, all its tenants foreclosed;
Someone took a wrong turn was what they supposed.
Out on the front lawn stood a red-suited mass;
As eight reindeer munched on the overgrown grass.
In Santa’s hands was a summons, or so it appeared;
When he started shouting, was when things got weird.
“Now Countrywide! Now Citi! Now Fannie! Now Freddie!
On Greenspan! On Wall Street! You boys best get ready!
Your orgy of credit, interest only, no down;
Has turned this suburb into a ghost town.
The MBS investors were all caught a nappin’;
But surely you geniuses could guess what would happen.
Deadbeats don’t make payments, or hadn’t you heard?
Giving loans to these people was simply absurd.
Values always go up, you swallowed that pill;
For this pile of crap, would YOU pay one mil?
Now values are tanking, the markets are shot;
You all got rich, while hatching this plot.
Time to pay the piper, to give back what’s owed;
You cashed out the harvest, now reap what you’ve sowed.
This year my sack’s empty, no presents for you;
For Uncle Sam and his bailout picked my pockets, too.
You sure screwed up Christmas for a whole lot of kids;
Whose parents, laid off, have now hit the skids.
There will be no big bonuses or stock options galore;
That ship done sailed on, you’ll get them no more.
I can offer you something, at first won’t sound great;
But neighborhoods like this one need to repopulate.
This board-up right here will be your new home;
Complete with a basement filled with asbestos foam.
Armed with Raid and some Glade you’ll not fear to tread;
Through a room filled with roaches and a urine-stained bed.
It’s a far cry, I know, from your penthouse suites;
Nevermind the threadcounts, what is THAT on those sheets?
Call it comeuppance, retribution or spite;
But those who lost money will feel pure delight,
At watching you idiots, so self-righteous it seems,
Forced to live in this hellhole that once held just dreams.
So grab those old blankets, wrap yourselves up real tight;
You’re in for a painfully frigid long night.”
He rolled up the summons and hopped back in his ride;
Gave a shout to his reindeer and away he did glide.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight;
“Americans are angry, Y’all! Deadbolt that door tight!”
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