'Twas the night...

December 24, 1998

...And That's My OpinionŠ

Christmas (Holiday) Eve

One holiday has passed since my last column, Thanksgiving, and another is about to come. Time passes when you're having fun!

I want to thank all those who responded pro and con to my "What If..." column. It received more reaction than any previous one. That's good; it is my self-appointed role (see July 1,1998 column). There's another what if....what if Clement Clark Moore had written A Visit From St. Nicholas in politically correct 1998? Lets conjecture...

The Night Before Christmas (corrected politically)

(A Visit From St. Nicholas)

By: Clement Clarke Moore

(With apologies from Sandy Goldman)

'Twas the night before Christmas (p.c. holiday), when all through the house (condo)

Not a creature (he/she/it) was stirring, not even a mouse (mus musculus);

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that ST. NICHOLAS (p.c. our visitor) soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of sugar-plums (sugar free diet popsicles) danced in their heads;

And mamma (my POSSLQ) in her 'kerchief (Victoria's Secret) and I in the nude, wearing my cap,

Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn (prairie grasses and wild flowers) there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window (brand new triple tracks) I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast (reflection) (editors Note: enough of anatomical parts) of the new-fallen snow

Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny (vertically challenged) reindeer,

With a little old (senior citizen or age challenged) driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. (p.c. our friend whose name is Nick)

More rapid than (the endangered) eagles his coursers they came,

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

(Not a gender reference nor an ethnic surname)

"Now, DASHER! now,DANCER! now, PRANCER and !


To the top of the porch! (wrought iron fence)To the top of the wall!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,So up to the housetop (TV antenna) the coursers they flew,With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas(our visitor) too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St. Nicholas (our visitor) came with a bound.

He was dressed all in (p.c. polyester imitation) fur from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;

A bundle of (educationally correct) toys he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a peddler (p.c. person of limited means hoping to gain a foothold in America's dreams) just opening his pack.

His eyes--how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe (lollipop) he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke (aroma) it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad face and a little round belly

That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of (Smuckers) jelly.

He was chubby and plump (was weight challenged), a right jolly old (senior) elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

(Although I alerted security) a wink of his eye and a twist 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 stockings; (with genderless toys, not specific for girls ; not specific for boys.

His bag you see, was filled at the U. of C. to be correct psychologically, ecologically and generationally)

then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,


...And that's my opinion.

And I'm Sandy Goldman

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