Satire

Holiday Greetings

from the G.O.P.

Sorry we've not kept in touch. It's been such a busy year. Turning back the political clock one hundred years is hard work! It's good to ease into a comfortable chair, coal fire roaring and enjoy a mug of hot cocoa served by our butler and yard man, Jesus. He can't seem to get the pronunciation right, even though his name proclaims the reason for the season. Fluent American is beyond his grasp but he comes cheap and stays on top of the privet.

“Exhausted, yet exhilarated” would be our answer should anyone ask the question, “How are you feeling? You look just fabulous!” Thanks, you're too kind. Holding back the Red Tide of Socialism is a full time job. Vacation? Forget it. Aside from a few golf weekends, Big Horn season in Montana, our condo in Antigua, the Palm Springs compound, skiing in Utah, bone fishing off Gitmo, Mardi Gras, Spoletto, Cannes, Derby week, the Super Bowl, Taylor Swift in Anaheim (full backstage access!), the NBA playoffs and fund raising events in Dallas, Atlanta, San Diego, New Orleans, Orlando, Houston, Vegas, L.A., Miami and San Juan, we never got a moment away.

Thanks for all the complements.  We do look great.  The cuts were draconian but worth it. We've dropped three pants sizes. At the May, "Beltway Prayer Rally to Roll Back the Satanic New Deal”, we still fit into our old seersucker ensemble from our Yale days. And listen: Newt only looks that way on television. The camera really adds pounds. We joined a great club, ellipticals, tread mills, massage, personal trainers, you name it. But no yoga. It's a gateway drug for heresy. A week or two of that and we'd be wearing harem pants and sacrificing goats on K Street.

The kids are doing fine. They are having the time of their lives in the House. Our pediatrician expressed concern over “developmental delays”. He recommended a bunch of fancy scientific tests to measure cognitive functioning and language acquisition. It's not like we couldn't afford it, but where's the problem? They're happy. Sure, they sass back to Boehner sometimes, but they toe the line. Language problems? They can say “NO!”, “Don't Tread On Me!” and “You lie!” in American. If the good Lord wanted fancy talk in the House he would have voted Democrat.

What about that Team! Go Pachyderms! Aren't they adorable? Eight cuddly puppies in a Christmas sock. It's true, a smaller litter with fewer runts would have been nice. We would have been happy with a pound dog from New Jersey or, say, Indiana. But you go to war with the hounds that were born behind your furnace, to paraphrase a certain Secretary of Defense. It's not as if we would ever consider putting them in a sack and dropping them in the Potomac. Even if we thought it, mere intent isn't a sin, is it? What if the dog was Mormon? Old Testament justification might apply in that case.

But we support our Team, warts and all. Especially when they've been kicked around by the Liberal Media. Sorry, we had to take a minute. It's hard to write Liberal Media, let alone say it, without bursting out laughing. We're better now. The Gang of Eight represents the best the GOP has to offer. They were all born in America with American names, American values and God given Christian faith. Mostly. Maybe it's not too late to find a gunny sack.

We admit we're hard to shop for. The Party of a constituency that wants for nothing, you'd think our list would be a short one. Guess again. Sure, most of our dreams have come true. Low and middle income Americans vote for us against their own economic self-interest, like turkeys voting for Thanksgiving. Fossil fuel combusts in the presence of oxygen, carbon is an all natural byproduct of that combustion, God put the dinosaurs in the Garden of Eden so they'd turn into fossil fuel and He put Dick Cheney in charge of writing national energy policy. Almost everything has been privatized and deregulated, corporate profits have never been higher, unions are nearly extinct and the rich are getting richer. We are truly blessed.

If you really want to surprise us, put Occupy Wall Street in a sack and drown it in the Potomac or take away the voting rights of our opponents or find Obamas' real birth certificate. But really, we'd be just as happy with a good bottle of single malt.

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year!

The G.O.P.