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by RIP RENSE

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A Poem for the Season
(Dec. 22, 2004)

(With apologies to those few who actually understand the noble teachings of Mr. Jesus Christ, and the many Christs since.)

Put that stocking on your head
Keep your brain merry and dead
Yack that crap about swaddling clothes
Don't Our Lord have cute little toes?
The Baby Jesus is come to save you
And Xmas debt to well enslave you
He's soft and cuddly and roly-poly
Even his little poopy's holy!
Just listen to his words of wisdom:
"Goo-goo, ga-ga, boo-boo, bim-bum"
Down to Earth the Lord dispatched him
(They say a lady unnaturally hatched him)
And as he grew, he got real preachy
Soon his life turned not-so-peachy
When he told the minions how to live
("Say 'please' and 'thankyou,' and forgive!")
The Romans found him too political
He exposed the thieves and hypocritical
And so they nailed him to a cross
They showed that nice Jew boy who's boss!
When after a couple of centuries passed
All the gossip was amassed
And Jesus Christ became a book
(That eternal life was quite a hook)
Thus began the Christian story
Two-thousand years of killing gorey
But never mind the blood and sufferin'
Jesus's name is just like Bufferin!
For all sad folks so scared of dyin'
The Bible says go stop your cryin'
For when this mortal coil shuffles
You fly to heaven with nary a ruffle!
Alfred E. Newman had it right
"What, me worry?" is your plight
No need for tears or consternation
About the ills of our great nation
It doesn't matter, this puny life
Baby J. will quell all strife!
He's waitin' for you and yours Up There
So while on earth, have not a care!
Let all good beasts become extinct,
So what if air has sulphur stink!
Mountain meadows, trees, and streams
Will soon become the stuff of dreams
Gawd's Great Earth is for consumin'
Let those liberals keep on fumin'
They're on their way to Hell's morasses
With red-hot pitchforks up their asses
So get thee to your church and sing
Those songs about the lost Three Kings
Moon and sigh at plastic babe
In bale of shredded cellophane
Say "peace be with you" piously
To people you that you'll never see
Listen to all that verbal lard
Worthy of a Hallmark Card
From a preacher who, it's 50-50,
Hasn't been behaving nifty
With little boys from Sunday Choir
("I did no such thing, you dam-ned liar!")
Time to buy that Wal-Mart manger
Never mind it's made by a stranger
Livin' way off in a foreign land
Eight years old with tired hands
Painting Jesus night and day
(Ten-cents an hour take-home pay)
What the hell do heathens know
About Jesus Christ and Christmas bow?
They're lucky to have work so noble
Thanks to Christ, the economy's global!
Where oh where would Asia be
Without our Yuletide industry?
Time to buy those strands of lights
And murdered trees and green elf tights
Time for Chia Pets and Clappers,
And carols uglied up by rappers
Time to take a two-week break from
Lacey, Michael and all TeeVee fun
Forget "The Swan," and of course, Iraq
(Daddy Bush has got our backs!)
Sing it together, hand-in-hand
We're walkin' in a pinhead wonderland!
And hike that credit, don't be losers!
Only beggars can't be choosers
This country's one big debtor's prison
But it don't matter, 'cause He is risen!
So in excesses all the day-o
What do you care, you've got a halo
Waitin' up there in the bye-and-bye
And eternal pieces of apple pie
Maybe today comes Armageddon
And all our flesh and bones will deaden
But those who believe in little J.C.
Don't fret about such prophecy
(Of course you know it's self-fulfillin'
Destroy the planet? Lots are willin'
The sooner that it goes to pieces
The quicker that they go see Jesus
While unbelievers writhe with vermin
Sweating, screaming, aching, squirmin'
Their bodies wrenched in agonizing
Torment, torture, pulverizing---
That's the thing they all believe in
This cretin kind of make-believin')
So break out all your "Christian Rock"
And don that kitchen Santa smock
Turn John Tesh up real loud now
Roast a hunk of bloody dead cow
Toast the King of Kings in diapers
And pray for all the Army snipers
Raise a glass of Christmas cheer
With Jesus you have nought to fear
If you still aren't born again yet
Heart is broke---let Christ mend it!
Say it together, say it loud
I'm born again and Almighty proud!
And now to fill the American air
Let us recite this Christmas prayer:
Who's the kid who's here to please us?
Why, it's the little Baby Jesus
He takes away all guilt and sin
(If that don't work, try Vicodin)
All we do, come Sundee mornin'
Is 'fess up all our drinkin', whorin'
And Baby. J. appears to say
I'm washing all your crimes away!
That's the Churchy recipe
"Let's Make a Deal" religiously
No man is bad, no one's a sinner
With Baby J., you come out a winner!
Rape and pillage, molest and plunder
All erased by heav'nly wonder!
And don't you worry 'bout makin' war
Jesus says "bring on the gore"
The USA fights holy battle
a child's corpse is mere collateral
If it's all done in His great name
How can killing be profane?
And if our sons and daughters perish
Baby J. their souls will cherish
He's an infant miracle worker
And our Christmas Eve tear-jerker!
He's the drug that gets you higher
Jesus is our pacifier!

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