Here's a little light reading for the holiday weekend before everyone gets too serious to laugh. It is based on the prevailing conventional wisdom and not meant as offense to anyone. It is all in jest - so enjoy:
‘TWAS THE DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS
A Poem for Political Junkies (with apologies to Clement Moore)
‘Twas the day after Christmas, when all through the O.C.,
Everyone was excited by the Board vacancy;
The papers were filed by the candidates with care,
In hopes that a victory soon would be theirs;
Lou Correa was aiming to replace Senator Dunn,
And scarcely had the vote count determined he’d won;
When ambitious locals showed up – far more than a dozen,
Every official in the district (and everyone’s cousin).
When at the Registrar there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my armchair to see what was the matter.
Away to the keyboard I flew in a dash,
To log into RED COUNTY and that report by FLASH.
A quick read of the new postings at OC Blog,
Showed a panoply of wannabes in the candidate log,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But JUBAL’s grainy video of Tom Umberg’s rear;
Mr. Umberg was filing for Supe District One,
And some of the candidates who said they would run,
Began to rethink it, in fact some withdrew,
Nine brave ones stayed in, but even they knew:
Oh, Rosen! Oh, Diaz! Oh, Lupe and Franklin!
Oh, Carlos! Oh, Kermit! Oh Larry and both Nguyens!
You can raise tons of money! You can clutter the mail!
You can walk all the precincts! But, surely you’ll fail!
Tom’s eyes--how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
For the Unions would give him all the cash he could carry!
He was brimming with confidence down to his marrow,
When he was endorsed by the Democrats (thanks to Barbaro);
The Deputy Sheriff’s endorsement he held tight in his teeth,
All the county worker unions circled him like a wreath;
And the praise that was heaped on by the AFL-CIO,
Almost made one forget about Guantanamo.
Like a life-size cardboard cutout, he turned with a jerk,
(insert your own joke here about Tom’s aide George Urch);
In a winner-take-all race, a sure bona fide,
Is that no one can match Tom Umberg’s Name ID.
And flipping a finger to his now Nine new foes,
He dreamed of I.E.'s, as his poll numbers rose;
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
--"Happy New Year to me - to all of you, say ‘Good-Night’.”