Advocates for ideas and draws conclusions based on the interpretation of facts and data.
'Twas Christmas Eve day and all through the house,
Every creature was stirring, with nary a grouse.
Twelve vintage stockings, very askew,
Had entered the scene, exactly on cue.
Kids acted like angels, their halos in place;
Mom thought they had come from a planet in space.
They had already showered and hung up their towels,
Christmas had silenced the howels and the yowels.
Upstairs in each room, she found neatly made beds,
More proof of the visions that danced in their heads.
But her gloat was disturbed by a sound on the roof;
She'd had nothing to drink, but was that a hoof?
Then out on the lawn, there arose such a clatter,
She ran with the kids to see what was the matter,
And what to their wondering eyes should appear,
But a blinking red light and nine lively reindeer.
Dad appeared, too, his hair all disheveled,
He looked like a man who'd just seen the devil.
"It's Santa for real, and it's not even night,
"I must be having a stroke, or a terrible fright.
"Claus is right in the kitchen all sooty and trembling,
"You have to go look, I'm not dissembling."
Mom points to the reindeer who stand on the lawn,
"You're not having a stroke, just look hither and yon,
"We have dear old Rudolph and his full gang of eight,
"You are okay, my dear, you're seeing quite straight."
Now Santa emerged, all streaked with dark soot,
Holding a cellphone he pulled from his boot,
"To heck with the tech, it's a GPS nightmare,
"Turn after turn, and ending up nowhere.
"Not that you're nowhere,
Sorry 'bout that. But guess what? I'm here,
And you're nicest of nice on our wonderful sphere.
Laying a finger aside of his nose,
He explained many things that nobody knows
The people who live in an uninformed nation
So attached to a pile of misinformation.
He'd applied for a grant for a new guidance set-up,
But Mister Non-elected brought a fancy new get-up.
Saying Claus was a myth and deserved no grant money.
He talked about cuts, about saving and ceilings,
As if dear old Santa didn't have feelings.
He'd whack Medicare payments for all senior elves,
Saying those weirdos could shift for themselves.
"I sent an email to explain Xmas tradition
"That my vehicle would go without an ignition."
He turned to the kids, now agape and agog,
Said his naughty/ nice list was on Santa.org.
"The nicest ones know to live is to give
"The grabbers and takers, I can't forgive.
"You can't take for granted your supper and lunch,
"When so many kids have so little to munch.
"Wildfires and earthquakes, famine and flood
"Climate change sucks up the planet's life blood.
"So gather your pennies, your quarters and dimes,
"And help folks enduring the worst of their times."
Told them they now knew that Santa was real,
Not lying or conspiring, just a good deal,
Was taking some pills to get rid of his belly,
Said he'd back for rye toast without any jelly.
He unrolled his old maps from the back of the sleigh
Perfectly drafted by humans at the old triple A,
And said they'd be best for finding his way.
Then quick as a wink, so light on his feet,
He leaped straight in the air and sat on his seat.
He spoke to the deer, to the father called out,
"Clean up your chimney, you old layabout!"
So, Dasher and Dancer and Mary Jane Vixen,
Comet and Cupid and the graying Wolf Blitzen,
Flew over the porch and over the wall,
And heard the family call out, "Merry Christmas to all."