‘Twas the night before Boosters, when all round the floors,
The doctors and coroners were forming a corps;
The beds were made ready for the bodies to come,
For the clots and the strokes and the heart stopping fun;
The nurses with cellphones were twerking and dancing;
With hopes all their TikToks would be so entrancing;
I was out for some air to wander and roam,
But I forgot my vax passport, and turned back toward home;
When ahead in the distance, emerging from fog,
Came a white-frocked flash demon, a face like a frog.
In each hand was a grant, to fund Chinese labs;
To make bugs stronger, to put bodies on slabs.
“I have succeeded,” he said, “In my fell research”,
“The world now worships me as if I were the Church.”
“You!” he said, while pointing at me, “Where is your mask?”
“You must put one on now, you must do as I ask!”
He was so nasty, so mean, so putrid and grouchy,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Fauci.
He jumped on a car and and called it his chariot,
“It was I!” he said, “I, yes I, who created each variant!”
“Now, Alpha! Now, Beta! Now Gamma and Delta!
On Omicron, on Mu, on Eta and Theta!”
“To stop up the air, to clog up each lung
To cause us despair, to swell up each tongue!”
I told him that though his scheme did kill many,
Most survived just fine, nor symptoms have any.
He passed by this comment, it went as unheard,
He was puffed out his chest, then he spoke out this word:
“Creating the queer bug was only the start;
Next came the vax, the real state of our art.”
“No drug could do better, none could excel,
In pumping up bank books, to cause money to swell.”
I said I heard of that drug, and that it did little,
It’s powers of healing were really quite brittle.
“I will say that it ceases all your infections;
My claims will be safe, there will be no inspections.”
His voice—how it crackled! his pimples, how scary!
He made sounds like a disgruntled old fairy!
I asked of the bad parts, and the harms that vax makes,
Of myocarditis, of strokes and their shakes?
He said Bah! and humbug, that he’d not take the bait;
That he’d get old Biden to form a mandate.
“If you stay unjabbed you’ll lose friends and lose jobs;
Your noses will daily be probed and be swabbed.”
I said this was crazy and that his plan must fail;
This critique made him mad and he began to rail.
“Did you really not know I am Science itself?!”
He showed his true soul, a right angry old elf.
He spoke no more words, but went straight to his work,
And filled his syringes; then turned with a smirk;
I could see it was me that he wanted to needle,
But I refused to give in, I would not wheedle.
I reached in my jacket and pulled out my Colt,
He held up both hands, and he turned quick to bolt;
But I heard him exclaim, in one last defiance,
“Double Boosters to all — and follow The Science!”
Buy my new book and own your enemies: Everything You Believe Is Wrong.
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While amusingly written, to truthful to laugh.
Well put Sir. Merry Christmas and best wishes in the New Year.
God bless you, Professor, for your gift of steadfast courage on our behalf. A Blessed Christmas to you and yours!
Yes Virginia, there is a………You know, the thing.
This is great, my son who is 10 was chuckling lots while reading it, we really enjoyed it. Merry Christmas.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Thank you so much for all of the years you have been writing. You’re the math professor everyone ought to have had.
Soon enough, Fauci will be on every Coca-Cola can.
Merry Christmas!
Merry Christmas.
HAR!-HAR!-HA!-HOOEE!-AH-HAH-HAH-HAH! Oh, good one Briggs — that helps put the MERRY in Christmas — BE OF GOOD CHEER, MEN, for unto us a SON is born who redeems the FOLLIES OF MAN, corrects all TYPOS, and offers LIFE EVERLASTING for every last lousy man-jack of us — even that devil Fauci, if the wretch repented — but never mind the nonsense of this WORLD, good people, and live lively in the GOOD, the TRUE, and the BEAUTIFUL, this lovely Yuletide Season — CHEERS!
Lol. Good one, our gracious host. Merry Christmas to one and all, and may we all do much good via God’s grace.
… Now, on to today’s special Christmas post! As my gift to everyone, I have written you guys a fully-derivative Christmas poem. I hope you enjoy it. (And remember, I’m a lawyer, not a poet. Go easy on me.)
https://www.coffeeandcovid.com/p/-coffee-and-covid-thursday-december-0d4
? *’TWAS THE NIGHT AFTER DELTA* ?
’Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the lab
Not a creature was stirring, not even a bat.
The needles were lined up in racks ‘neath the tree
Awaiting a visit from old Doctor Fauci.
The children were sleeping as nice as you like,
just not feeling too good since they got their last spike.
Mama counted our grants but was coming up short
like the day they revoked our non-jabbing passport.
I knew at a glance from the look in her eyes
That the grants wouldn’t pay till we said government lies.
Our careers were invested in working with science
but our jobs, they depended on our full compliance.
Downstairs at the door we heard scared monkeys screeching
and knew Fauci was knocking, for Delta’s unleashing.
The door burst its frames ‘fore we knew what to do
And in puffs of black sulphur stood old you-know-who.
“I’ve come for the children,” he sneered with a grin
and I knew in my blood that the demon would win.
The doc’s hands were all covered with virus and clots
from hesitant children who’d refused their shots.
His boots crusted over with hearts he had stepped in,
Fauci leered and revealed his up-next bioweapon.
“It’s for kids too,” said the gene engineer,
and slithered toward Mama, who shuddered in fear.
Mama and I ran upstairs in a thrice
before you could say “any genes to be spliced?”
We piled tables and chairs up in front of the door
while the short devil oozed his way up to our floor.
Mama — she prayed we’d be saved and set free —
while I saw visions of Wuhan and lost beagle puppies.
And just when Doc got there and started to batter,
there arose from the roof-top a thump and a clatter.
That’s when the door burst, it started to break!
And Fauci raced in — for our children to take.
“It’s Delta!” he cried, like a demon from China,
and my heart started swelling and feeling angina.
But then from behind us, a deep jolly old chuckle
from the red-suited fat man with hands on his buckle.
“Not tonight!” he told Fauci; “You, I’ll be collectin’”
and from his great bag tossed me some ivermectin.
In Santa’s left hand was a giant big needle.
He laughed “doc, what you’re doing is fully illegal!”
Then without warning, he moved with alarum
and that needle was sticking from Fauci’s right arm.
We watched with amazement as Fauci then shrank
to no bigger than test tubes at the local blood bank.
Before we could thank him, Santa raced up the flu
“It’s Oh My Chron!” he called, “It’s for everyone, too!”
“On Dancer! On Prancer! On Comet! And Vixen!
That Fauci’s all finished now that I have fixed him.”
And then we were happy; the end of our woe;
I gazed at my bride and could only say … “So!”
— Jeff Childers, Christmas 2021
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