Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house not a device was stirring because of the brownout.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, a dead zero emissions electric vehicle.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
And he whistled, and shouted, and cursed them by name;
“Fuck Biden, fuck Newsom, fuck Pelosi the same.”
“I have no toys, the supply line is fucked, the gifts are sitting in ships, trains, and on trucks.”
“I’ve the chip shortage means no video games, Christmas is going to go down in flames.”
“The prices of metals have shot up the sky so mom can kiss the idea of that necklace goodbye.”
“Dad’s ride on lawnmower, it ran on gas, so now he’ll just have to push cut the grass.
“The reindeer were outlawed because of their farts so now I’m stuck with this piece of shit car.”
“Eight hours to recharge the battery from dead means by time I can go again kids have got out of bed.”
“Inflation and shortages are outrageous this year, Build Back Better has killed any and all Christmas cheer.”
“For their meager haul under the tree the kids will blame jolly old me.”
“It wasn’t my fault, I swear, I’m not lying. It’s that senile old pervert at fault, fuck Joe Biden.”