Twas the Night Before Fiscliff

December 24, 2012 -  I opened the Internet this morning  to find the following verse online by Bill Frenza on Real Clear Politics.  Bill Frezza is a fellow at the Competitive Enterprise Institute, and a Boston-based venture capitalist

Twas the night before Fiscliff, when all through the House

Not a stateman was stirring, not even a grouse

Nither bills nor amendments have much of a prayer

Since hope and chagne fever brought gridlock to bear.

 

The citizens pondered in fear and in dread,
What will happen if off the cliff we go instead?
Obama was sure he set Boehner a trap
To force taxes higher, give rich folks a slap.

When on CNN there arose such a clatter,
I sprang to the set to see what was the matter.
Wolf Blitzer was shouting, he had a news flash,
Was a formula found that would scare up fresh cash?

Top of Form

Bottom of Form

The gloom had sent stock markets gyrating so,
While the luster of gold lured all those in the know.
When, what on the six o'clock news should appear,
But a fat helicoptering cash bombardier.

With a bearded bald driver, both facile and quick,
It must be the man with the Keynesian shtick.
Like a fire hose shower, liquidity came,
As he whistled, and shouted, and passed out the blame.

"Now Geithner! Now Sperling! More interest rate fixing!
On, Krugman! On, Goolsbee! It's cash we'll be mixing!
We must make sure aggregate demand won't fall!
Now spend away! Spend away! Spend away all!"

If you give me control of the money supply,
I will make the debt grow 'til it reaches the sky.
If this starts to give you stimulus déjà vu,
Just you wait ‘til you see infinite QE2.

So have no fear, kick the can, you don't need proof.
Go ahead and let spending go right through the roof!
By this point my head was fast spinning around,
When fat Ben Bernanke came up with a bound.

He was dressed all in greenbacks, from head to his foot,
That must have stuck to him, their value kaput.
A bundle of cash he had flung on his back,
Like every historic inflationist hack.

His eyes, how they shifted! His glibness so merry!
Pretending to be a prudent actuary.
"I know what I'm doing!" his words much did flow.
"My magic will make unemployment go low."

How easily this man can lie through his teeth,
Yet the smoke he was blowing gave me no relief.
He turned to make yet one more speech to the telly,
His statements as firm as a bowlful of jelly!

Then back to his copter, as quick as a whistle,
He unleashed one more fiat currency missile.
And as he took off, all heard just what he said,
"In the long run remember that we are all dead."

Despite reality, try to have a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

To which I have added this short copy-cat version.

Twas the night before Fiscliff, when all through the House,

And the Senate and the White House,  not a creature was  there.

They were all resting and not stirring at home in their native lair.

 Meanwhile physicians in fear and in dread said,

What if we go off the Fiscliff, will our careers be dead,
What if the SGR goes live and is not repaired.
What is from the sequester we are not spared.

 When on TV from Hawai,  there arose such a clatter,

I sprang to my set to see what could be  the matter.

Obamaclaus bearing gifts in a six o’clock news flash
Said, It’s all the GOP’s fault, Medicare they would slash.

He added, it's greedy physicians who make costs soar

They insist only about patients they are in the know,
When what on CNN and other channels should appear,
But a big fat debt clock ticking away loud and clear.