Archive for November, 2009

Sweet God, first it’s Christmas decorations in all the Target stores already, and now this

November 19, 2009


For somewhat more than a decade, I wrote Holiday Humor pieces for Playboy for the December and January issues, and for 6 or 7 years, the December piece took the form of Celebrity Christmas Carols, meaning classic carols as they might have been written by various public figures.  I recently had occasion to pull these out of the files for use in a Salon, an occasional gathering of people to read or perform written works, as part of a “Music”-themed evening.  They seemed to go over fairly well, so I’m posting a few that I’m particularly fond of.  Nader and Knight are rather dated, having been written circa 2000, but Palin and Obama were knocked out just for the Salon.  And then there’s a bonus, which you’ll find out about when you get there.  Let every heart fill joyously with song.  Or perhaps bile.  Your call.




“Here Comes Santa Claus.”

as performed by Ralph Nader



There’s no Santa Claus!

I must say it, ‘cause

I believe the truth,

Though it hurts, is

Best for you,

Like pulling some bad tooth.

Big fast cars and fine cigars and self-indulgent waste:

Everything you like’s a ripoff, toxic, or bad taste.


Join us, friend!

Help bring an end

To government by greed.

Tax the rich and

Force big biz

To sell just what we need.

I disclose how bad we’re hosed each day, don’t mince a word.

I won’t shit you!  That’s why I

Came in a distant third.




“What Child is This?”

as performed by Nike CEO Phil Knight



What child is this, who begs to rest

After just ten hours at our factory?

For what we pay (seven bucks a day),

Such an attitude’s not satisfactory.


World…wide, kids have learned to say,

“A hundred bucks for a shoe? No way!”

Swoosh, Swoosh, Nike stock’s gone down.

Jordan’s no longer worth all that money.


What child is this, who wants time off

On Christmas Day, to make merry?

We took a dump from the Asian slump

And our bottom line’s looking quite scary


Work…work, kid, and just be glad

That you’re not at our plant in Islamabad.

Christmas doesn’t come for free,  

So “Just do it” or lose your job, sonny.




“Oh Come All Ye Faithful”

as performed by Sarah Palin



Oh come, all ye faithful,

Loyal right-wing loonies,

I’m leaving the boonies

For the campaign trail.

My pitch is simple:

I’m Cheney with a dimple.

This government’s a drag, it’s

All Jews and blacks and faggots.

We’ll take the country back:

Me and Rush, without fail.


We’ve got it locked up 

(Unless my kids get knocked up),

The public is sick and tired of

Fairness and hope.

I want the moon, so

Goodbye Nome and Juneau.

Please buy my book and heed it.

(I just can’t wait to read it.)

There’s just two things I need:

First a clue, then a plan.




“The Little Drummer Boy”

as performed by Barak Obama



Said the pros to me, “Barak Obama

It’s sheer insanity, Barak Obama,

To seek the presidency, Barak Obama,

So young, so ebony Barak Obama,      

Barak Obama, Barak Obama…


When I won, some said, “Barak Obama,

Glenn Beck swears you’re a Red, Barak Obama.

Your health care hopes seem dead Barak Obama.

You should have stayed in bed Barak Obama,

Barak Obama, Barak Obama…”


Then there’s those who say, “Barak Obama,

We’re with you come what may, Barak Obama.

Let’s shut down Fox today, Barak Obama,

And kill Glenn Beck, okay? Barak Obama,

Barak Obama, Barak Obama…


Peace on Earth to those who smile when they say,

Barak Obama




And finally, a twisted little bonus, a take that I wrote before he went on trial, which the Playboy editors absolutely loved, but couldn’t overcome the “Are you fucking nuts?” panicky stonewalling by the mag’s legal department.




“I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus”

as performed by Robert Blake



I shot Bonny like I’d planned because

No one else would kill the bitch for me.

That’s what the cops contend,

But I’m innocent, my friend.

(I’d say she had it coming, but

I don’t want to offend.)


Hope your Christmas joy’s as great as mine,

Even though the state wants me to fry.

Just because you do the crime,

Don’t mean you’ll do the time.

Hell, if O.J. walked then so can I.