‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the land,
The shoppers were rushing to make their last stand.
They’d waited ‘til now, so the presents weren’t bought,
The stores’ walls were bulging, the folks overwrought.
They were stricken with panic, would there be enough time?
It was so hard to tell from the end of a line.
And out in the aisle, the people did shove,
For the last-ever Bratz toys (lead-painted with love).
For Hannah Montana, and HSM2,
For Apples to Apples, and Panda (Kung Fu!).
There were tramplings, and fistfights, gift cards on the floor,
And the Salvation ringers, outside every door.
The parking was horrid, the lots underplowed,
And not one good word from the folks in the crowd.
It had been a bad season, a bad year I’d call it,
Where layoffs and rip-offs had cleaned every wallet.
Four dollar gas, foreclosures galore,
And most of the folks were all newly poor.
For so many people, that was the rub:
Without any money, it was presents or grub.
So it wasn’t “last minute” that this madness capped,
It was the fact that the shoppers were desperately strapped
Their bank accounts vanish’d, their 401’s locked,
Their faith in the system was tragically rocked.
As they fought with each other, they wondered aloud,
How did we get here? How were we cowed?
What was it that brought us to this sorry state?
Where DID we go wrong? Was it just some cruel fate?
So they clutched so forlorn to a bargain or three,
And remembered what fortunes had kicked off this spree.
It started with pundits, and bytes from the Fed.
Then early last spring, Bear Stearns woke up dead.
Like dominoes falling, the sickness, it spread,
Our entire economy fractured and bled.
The banks began failing, their mortgages bust,
Oil speculators stole away with our trust.
There was Fannie, and Freddie, then rich AIG,
And let’s not forget the big auto three.
They went before Congress, their hats in their hands,
Having cheated and squandered their way ‘cross the land.
They’d swindled, then dwindled their ranks as a cure,
They sucked down huge payoffs, and screwed us for sure.
And then came the galling, most horrible part,
The bailouts that punctured a hole through our hearts.
“It’s for you that we do this,” the CEO’s claimed,
“Without us, the U.S. will surely be maimed.”
“Just think about Christmas, the happiest season.
The shelves will stay full. Not to help us is treason!
Unemployment will surge, and prices will too!
And who will be blamed? It’s not us. It’s you!”
“But help us,” they claimed, “and the States will rebound.
You’ll save countless jobs, and praise will resound!”
The argument stuck: unemployment is bad,
What little girl would want that for her dad?
Who in the country could stand and let fall,
Those huge corporate giants who employed one and all?
So elected officials, their consciences clear,
Happ’ly unlocked our coffers, and toasted good cheer.
They’d save our big business (their own portfolios too).
But shamefully, sadly, there’d be nothing for you.
No protection, no structure, no oversight sought,
No accounting, no refund, no voiced second thought.
Cuz’ as you’d expect, the “cure” wasn’t real.
The banks took your money, but they still wouldn’t deal.
“Pay your big bloated mortgage on time,” they still bleat,
“Or come New Years Day you’ll be out on the street.”
And in every business, the cry was the same,
“Hey, look, those dumb sheep gave us money! How lame!
Let’s play in the cash, and make big money forts!
Then come two-thousand-nine, more layoffs – like sport!”
Which brings us right back to the scene at the mall,
Where poor vanquished shoppers lay right where they fall.
‘Til just before midnight – St. Nick’s op’ning bell –
When the shoppers filed out of their bargain-hunt hell.
The wrapping was wrapped, all the boxes were filled,
And in all the commotion, sixteen were killed.
But it wasn’t the Grinch that killed off the season,
It wasn’t E. Scrooge you can use as a reason.
It was greedy big business, and government fools,
Who tanked capitalism, and made up new rules.
It was DC and Wall Street, and our friends at the Fed,
Who gave us all pause, and a winter of dread.
And now in the silence of this one sacred eve,
We struggle to find anything left to believe.
Investment, or business, a work ethic that pays,
Something to bank in the lean coming days.
‘Twas the night before Christmas in two-thousand-eight,
When Santa Claus comes, it might just be too late.
The shoppers were rushing to make their last stand.
They’d waited ‘til now, so the presents weren’t bought,
The stores’ walls were bulging, the folks overwrought.
They were stricken with panic, would there be enough time?
It was so hard to tell from the end of a line.
And out in the aisle, the people did shove,
For the last-ever Bratz toys (lead-painted with love).
For Hannah Montana, and HSM2,
For Apples to Apples, and Panda (Kung Fu!).
There were tramplings, and fistfights, gift cards on the floor,
And the Salvation ringers, outside every door.
The parking was horrid, the lots underplowed,
And not one good word from the folks in the crowd.
It had been a bad season, a bad year I’d call it,
Where layoffs and rip-offs had cleaned every wallet.
Four dollar gas, foreclosures galore,
And most of the folks were all newly poor.
For so many people, that was the rub:
Without any money, it was presents or grub.
So it wasn’t “last minute” that this madness capped,
It was the fact that the shoppers were desperately strapped
Their bank accounts vanish’d, their 401’s locked,
Their faith in the system was tragically rocked.
As they fought with each other, they wondered aloud,
How did we get here? How were we cowed?
What was it that brought us to this sorry state?
Where DID we go wrong? Was it just some cruel fate?
So they clutched so forlorn to a bargain or three,
And remembered what fortunes had kicked off this spree.
It started with pundits, and bytes from the Fed.
Then early last spring, Bear Stearns woke up dead.
Like dominoes falling, the sickness, it spread,
Our entire economy fractured and bled.
The banks began failing, their mortgages bust,
Oil speculators stole away with our trust.
There was Fannie, and Freddie, then rich AIG,
And let’s not forget the big auto three.
They went before Congress, their hats in their hands,
Having cheated and squandered their way ‘cross the land.
They’d swindled, then dwindled their ranks as a cure,
They sucked down huge payoffs, and screwed us for sure.
And then came the galling, most horrible part,
The bailouts that punctured a hole through our hearts.
“It’s for you that we do this,” the CEO’s claimed,
“Without us, the U.S. will surely be maimed.”
“Just think about Christmas, the happiest season.
The shelves will stay full. Not to help us is treason!
Unemployment will surge, and prices will too!
And who will be blamed? It’s not us. It’s you!”
“But help us,” they claimed, “and the States will rebound.
You’ll save countless jobs, and praise will resound!”
The argument stuck: unemployment is bad,
What little girl would want that for her dad?
Who in the country could stand and let fall,
Those huge corporate giants who employed one and all?
So elected officials, their consciences clear,
Happ’ly unlocked our coffers, and toasted good cheer.
They’d save our big business (their own portfolios too).
But shamefully, sadly, there’d be nothing for you.
No protection, no structure, no oversight sought,
No accounting, no refund, no voiced second thought.
Cuz’ as you’d expect, the “cure” wasn’t real.
The banks took your money, but they still wouldn’t deal.
“Pay your big bloated mortgage on time,” they still bleat,
“Or come New Years Day you’ll be out on the street.”
And in every business, the cry was the same,
“Hey, look, those dumb sheep gave us money! How lame!
Let’s play in the cash, and make big money forts!
Then come two-thousand-nine, more layoffs – like sport!”
Which brings us right back to the scene at the mall,
Where poor vanquished shoppers lay right where they fall.
‘Til just before midnight – St. Nick’s op’ning bell –
When the shoppers filed out of their bargain-hunt hell.
The wrapping was wrapped, all the boxes were filled,
And in all the commotion, sixteen were killed.
But it wasn’t the Grinch that killed off the season,
It wasn’t E. Scrooge you can use as a reason.
It was greedy big business, and government fools,
Who tanked capitalism, and made up new rules.
It was DC and Wall Street, and our friends at the Fed,
Who gave us all pause, and a winter of dread.
And now in the silence of this one sacred eve,
We struggle to find anything left to believe.
Investment, or business, a work ethic that pays,
Something to bank in the lean coming days.
‘Twas the night before Christmas in two-thousand-eight,
When Santa Claus comes, it might just be too late.
