Clement Moore Revisited: Twas The Night Before Fiscliff
Twas the night before Fiscliff, when all through the House
Not a statesman was stirring, not even to grouse.
Neither bills nor amendments have much of a prayer
Since hope and change 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?
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.