Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the White House

Not a politician was stirring, not even a louse;

The economy was flung by Timmy without care,

In hopes that St. Bernanke soon would be there;

The regulators were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of trannies danced in their heads;

And Obama in his ‘kerchief, listening to his rap,

Had just started contemplating the US debt trap;

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

Tea partiers? Femen? What was the matter?

Away to the window Obama flew like TARP cash,

Which even Kashkari now admits was too rash.

The buffoon with the breasts, you know the dodo

Was heard in the back, cackling on her fake news show,

When, what to Bill Clinton’s wandering eyes should appear,

But a man with no toupee, who loved to interfere,

This bald little man, who kept the economy in the tank,

Obama knew in a moment, it must be St. Bernank.

More rapid than quant easings his governors they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

“Now Dudley! now, Bullard! now, Tarullo and Yellen!

On, Duke! On, Raskin! Leave Hoenig, don’t tell him!

To the top of the press! We hear the call!

Print money! Print money! Print money for all!”

The policies of Keynes they say will certainly fly,

And if it meets with an obstacle, make Greenspan the fall guy.

So up to the money printing press, the governors they flew,

The sleigh full of jobless; Goldman bonuses too.

And then, with a crashing, Obama heard on the roof,

The crumbling of Fannie Mae, gone with a poof.

As Obama drew in his head, PIIGS falling all around,

Down the chimney St. Bernanke came, holding interest rates cockposterously down.

He brought a wealth transfer, the middle class under foot,

But hoped to keep the market rising with the Bernanke put;

A bundle of papers he had flung on his back,

Shares of Netflix and Apple, T-Bills in a stack.

His policies confounded, his balance sheet so scary!

Mortgages under foreclosure, tax payers be wary!

His droll bankster friends, who thought up CDOs,

Could be heard partying in back, with their lobbyist hos.

Fillings of gold he held tight in his teeth,

While visions of Japan circled his head like a wreath.

He had a currency to debase, it was said on the Telly,

And lucky for taxpayers, a bowlful of jelly!

The economy he would hump, like another old elf,

And Obama laughed when he saw him, as if he sold an AIG shelf!

A wink of his eye and a nod to the Fed,

Mo’ money, mo’ money, mo’ money to dread.

He spiked the yield curve, claiming that surely will work,

And created moral hazard for banks, what a fucking jerk.

And laying his middle finger aside of his nose,

And laughing at the suckers, up the printing press he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew, giving common sense a dismissal.

But Obama heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,

Buy the fucking dip, and it all will be right!”

Editor’s Note: Money McBags will be off until next week for the holidays, though it is possible he will do something on the twitter or the facebook or Lisa Ann‘s face between now and then (though hopefully the later of the three).  While loyal readers know Money McBags lights the menorah, he is happy to join in the pagan festivities right now (such as Jebus’ birthday, Kwanza, and Festivus) and spend a little time on himself.  That said, Money McBags does firmly believe in the holiday spirit, and the charity he will be supporting this year is Charity Hodges.  He hopes you all find causes to give to that are as near and dear to your hearts as Ms. Hodges is to his.  If you need to get in touch with Money McBags before then, he can always be reached at moneymcbags@gmail.com or just leave a comment.  And if you liked the poem, forward it on to friends, siblings, and Natalie Portman (or just forward it on to her) as a way to spread cheer during this holiday season.

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