December 25, 2023 --
Another year,
another poem from Fred.
Not a lot of cheer
in a dismal year.
But do not fear,
We have Fred's Photo with NY Jets Dancers
For us to share
--- Norm's feeble attempt at rhyme
Fred Smith has been posting his xmas messages here and elsewhere for many years. This year's message is a bit gloomy but have no fear, Fred ends with a cheer.
I first met Fred, a testing expert who used to work as a statistician for the old NYCBOE, when he contacted me about getting ICE members to assist in gathering data for his exposures of the evils of testing I think sometime around 2008. He then got involved with groups like GEM and Change the Stakes and was a co-winner with me and Danny Dromm of Leonie Haimson's Skinny Award in 2018 - (June 19 - I'm a Skinny: Honored to be honored by )
Fred Smith has done it again for 2023 with his yearly Xmas special.
If it's Christmas, it must be Ed Notes.
Here it is. Happy holidays and good health in 24.
Peace.
Fred
The Nightmare Before
Christmas 2023
The news
flash and photos showed that Santa was dead
When the
elves came upon him face down by his sled,
His red
cheeks turned white as the new fallen snow.
A voice
cried inside me “Please, say it ain’t so.”
The reindeer
stood silent—eyes brimming with tears.
Mrs. Claus
draped in black. No more jolly years.
I refused to
believe Saint Nick really had died,
But the
cables broadcast his sad fate far and wide.
Could it be so
surprising to find he was gone
In a year
that had been one grim tragi-thon?
Guess his
big heart could not endure all the stress,
The suff’ring
he saw; an imploding-world mess.
The ongoing
bombardment inside of Ukraine;
Now Middle
East slaughter again and again;
Children murdered
in classrooms with their schoolmates;
The armed
killings by sickos in psychotic states.
And he knew from
the annual missions he flew
Our planet ‘twas
rampantly spinning askew.
Disasters
both natural and wrought by man,
A list of
plagues exceeding the biblical ten:
Heat waves
and wild fires; floods, drought and tornadoes;
Icebergs
floating freely, earth quakes and volcanoes;
Starvation,
diseases, poisoned water and air;
Species
disappearing, migration despair.
Folks
sleeping on cold streets and families without homes;
No
chimneys for them, nor sweet Christmas Eve poems.
'23 would
bring us no large cornucopia.
Was Santa
the victim of raging dystopia?
And
literally, had he done his last laps,
Leaving kids
to sit blankly tapping their apps?
So, as I
conjectured on his deep pain and grief,
I became
more distraught and sought instant relief.
A sleeping
pill, two shots of rye, thence off to bed,
Fell asleep
with the covers fast over my head;
But I couldn’t
hide from the ensuing bad dreams,
Flowing
through my unconscious in noxious streams.
Demon
visions came rushing into my brain
Aboard a
veritable Walpurgis Night train,
A juggernaut
of sleighs from the bowels of hell,
Bearing legions
who’d succumbed to a vicious spell;
A crazed reindeer
named Rudolph with the mug of a hog
Was steering
this mad squadron straight into the fog.
First came the
invaders, rabid-eyed and on fire,
Destined to
become the Proud Boys prison choir.
Their leader
was a flamer with a fat orange face,
Surrounded
by trumpeters known as his base,
Spewing
satanic curses, purely laden with hate
That howled once
again to make Amerika great.
There was a
blonde screamer blazing down laser beams
Near a scruffy
podblaster preaching righteous extremes;
And in the
back of the pack, trying to hide,
Were two black-robed
impostors stealing a ride;
Then
white-collared George Santos popped up to exclaim
He was
coming to town—Santa was his real name.
Now I threw
off my blanket in a cold sweat;
Our country
divided. The Master had no regret.
But soon I
awoke to a joyous surprise;
Nick’s demise
was a cruel crock of big fake news lies.
Some are
already dubbing it, “Tucker’s Last Stand!”
But whatever
you call it, Christmas remains grand.
And we’ll hear
jingling bells chime from on high.
Goodness
rings eternal. The truth shall not die.
Here are his previous years, each with a different theme. 2019 seems to be absent.
Fred Smith - The Day After Christmas - 2018 Version
- 2017: Fred Smith: Dispirit of the Season
- 2016: Fred Smith's Annual "Night Before Christmas"
2015: Fred Smith, Poet Laureate of Opt Out - 'Twas the night before...
And then there’s Mulgrew who must choose who is winning
To claim he was backing them from the beginning.
- In (2014) Fred Smith gave us this gem.
Fred Smith: The Day Before Xmas (With Arne Duncan ...
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| Fred Smith convincing Jets dancers to boycott field tests - he's the one in the middle |
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