On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave Milton Street a City contract for a Pollyanna gift. (The problem was it was worth more than $25).
On the second day of Christmas, my true love held up a 7-Eleven using a gun ornament from Urban Outfitters. It wasn’t a nice thing to do, but it was chic.
On the third day of Christmas, my true love got City Council to pass an ordinance banning overweight Santas who eat too much trans fat. Michael Nutter was not in Council at the time, but said he wishes he were there for the vote. Bob Brady said the ordinance was obviously passed by his political enemies. (He was munching on McDonald’s fries at the time.) A special exemption was passed to allow Andy Reid within city limits while wearing red.
On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love offered the opinion maybe Mary Cheney had an immaculate conception because the Christian right suggested she give birth in a manger far from Washington.
On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love asked Sen. John McCain at a political rally why he is for sending more soldiers to Iraq. McCain said there is a need to increase the troops before decreasing them. My true love said to me, "I thought you said McCain and Kerry were two different people."
On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love wished for peace on earth and goodwill towards men. That night the Flyers and Sixers won a game.
On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love counted all the things America has given Iraq since we toppled Saddam: chaos, civil war, billions of dollars misplaced for reconstruction and a shortage of water and electricity. However, my true love pointed out the Iraqis are very happy with the partridge in a pear tree personally presented to them by outgoing Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld.
On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love thought she heard the president say at a ceremony honoring Rumsfeld, "Good job, Brownie."
On the ninth day of Christmas, my true love thankfully turned down the sound on the John Mellencamp automobile commercial ("This is my country") after hearing it for the 3,500,000th time. "Silent night" took on new meaning.
On the 10th day of Christmas, my true love wrote a letter of complaint to the National Football League for ruining both Christmas and New Year’s Eve with prime-time telecasts of Eagles games. There’s nothing like a guy wearing an Eagles jersey at a New Year’s Eve party to turn a girl on. So I ask you, "Should auld acquaintance be forgot?" (What the hell does that mean anyway?)
On the 11th day of Christmas, my true love realized the toys we bought the grandkids are already either broken or forgotten and I have returned another black merino wool sweater she gave me. She forgets that she gives me one every year. The only man who wore more black is Johnny Cash and he’s dead.
On the 12th day of Christmas, my true love and I happily threw out the tree (it will be collected sometime in late January by the City, if we’re lucky). We also swore off golden rings, turtledoves, French hens, mockingbirds and the occasional partridge in a pear tree.
