Thursday, February 28, 2013

Twas the Night Before Sequester

Tomorrow the Sequester officially begins. We will spend for the rest of the fiscal year an amount about 2.3% less than we planned to spend.

Twas the night before Sequester, when all through DC
Not a revenue was stirring, not even a fee.
The reductions were marked by bureaucrats with care,
In hopes that St. Obama soon would be there.

The civil servants were nestled all snug--cuz they're feds,
While visions of continuing resolutions danced in their heads.
And Director made mischief, and I under a budget cap,
Had just written our press release for a long winter’s scrap.

When out on the Mall their chants were so bitter,
I sprang to my desk to see what was on Twitter.
Away to the Windows I flew like a flash,
Tore open the browser and queried the hash.

The stories on TV of the hardly-fallen budget
Gave spin of austerity to reporters to fudge it.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature Air Force 1, and eight tales of fear.

With a tall hopey driver, so lively with no drama,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Obama.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Morgan! Now, Matthews! Now, Amanpour and Maddow!
On, Schieffer! On, Sawyer! On Crowley and Brokaw!
To the top of the hour! To film who will bawl!
Now spin away! Spin away! Spin away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild charges that fly,
When they film a Republican, oh do they cry.
So up to the House-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of programs, and St. Obama too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard quite enough
The prancing and pawing of each little puff.
As I drew in my head, and turned down the sound,
Down the chimney St. Obama came with a bound.

He was dressed in a suit, from his head to his foot,
And his investments were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Programs he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
His crises like poses, his woes like a fairy!
His droll little budget was wrapped up with a bow,
And the fear on his face was as real as some show.

The stump of a program he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad mandate and a little hope--really?
That shook when he governed, like a straw man so silly!

He was hopey and changey, a Left Forward POTUS,
And I fainted when I saw him, in spite of the fuss!
A wink of his eye and a tilt of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the budgets, then turned with a shirk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the deficit he rose!

He sprang to his Prompter, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the drone of a missile.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he gazed in the mirror,
"Happy Sequester to all, and to all a good-fiscal year!"

I'm so excited! I hope I get a unicorn!

With apologies, of course.