The Nightmare Before Christmas 2023 - Fred Smith Does it Again

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 with his annual XMAS Poem - 2022 version

• Fred Smith 2021 edition of his Annual ‘Twas the night before Christmas

• Fred Smith with his annual The Night Before Xmas—2020

• 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 ...
  

Fred is also a statistician for the NY Jets - don't blame him for their absence from the Super Bowl for over 50 years.

Fred Smith convincing Jets dancers to boycott field tests - he's the one in the middle