No further comment needed. Two works of art:

Bob B:

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the House
Not a camera was whirring to catch even one souse.
The stockings were flung hither-thither without care,
Hoping that some unlucky aide soon would be bare;
The pages were tucked in all snug in their beds;
While visions of subsidies danced in their heads;
And Jill in her ‘kerchief, and Joe in his cap,
Had called for a hard cap as the media napped,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
Joe sprang from his bed to see Black Lives Matter.
Away from the window he flew like a flash,
To open the baggie and throw out Hunter’s stash.

The agents were stunned by the fast-falling snow,
They thought it was kept in a desk down below,
Just then, to Joe’s wondering eyes did appear,
A flood of subpoenas, making someone’s career.
The Federal agent was so lively and slick,
Joe knew in a moment he must get away quick.
More rapid than eagles his lawyers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
“Now, Dashell! now, Garland! Work to get the fix in!
I don’t want to end up like old Tricky Nixon!”
He fell off the porch, tripping over the wall
Saying “Flush away! flush away! flush away all!”

On the House side, a small group was laughing with glee –
Can’t pass legislation, so let’s go on a spree!
So up to the courthouse the members they flew
With a case full of facts, Hunter’s laptop there too —
And then, in a twinkling, I heard from the press
There’s nothing to see here – the whole thing’s a mess.
As I shook my poor head, and was turning around,
Social media mavens came on with a bound.
They were loaded for bear, dripping with hate and snark,
Hoped to fool all the people, keeping them in the dark…
A bundle of lies they had flung on their blogs,
Setting fire after fire, piling high burning logs.

Their lies – how they sparkled! Their logic, so airy!
The cheek was excessive, their prose, like a fairy!
They troll for their victims, tie their minds up like ropes,
Then they fill them with half-truths and treat them like dopes;
Their singular gripe is that they’re so suppressed
By the MAGA conspiracy, it just leaves them distressed!
They quake when Trump laughs, like a bowl full of jelly.
Conservative ideas make their pants go all smelly!!!
Joe was dazed and confused, a parody of himself,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A twitch marred his face as nodded his head,
Letting me know he was heading for bed;
He searched for a word, but no script was at hand
He stumbled and bumbled, no one knew where he’d land.
But dragging a young girl’s hair up to his nose,
He took a big whiff, then he tried to compose…
He fell up the stairs, and his staff gave a shout,
Then they bundled him up, and they carried him out,
But I heard him exclaim as he hit the front door
“I just don’t love my chances for twenty-twenty-four!”

Gumbeaux:

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and through the White House
Obama couldn’t make it, he’s at his bathhouse.

Epstein didn’t hang himself by the chimney with care,
Which was considered evidential, that Hillary had been there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
Locking their doors, so Brandon wouldn’t sniff their heads.

And Jill having tacos, Joe taking a nap
Aides were really hoping, that neither opened their yap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
Joe was confused, since he has no gray matter.

Away to the window Joe flew like a flash,
Looking for Zelensky, for his kickback bribe cash.

While in his bedroom, with a nose full of “snow”.
Hunter looked out for Santa, for more hookers and blow.

When, what to his bloodshot eyes should appear,
But Garland and Wray, with a wink and “all clear”.

And then, in a twinkling, Joe heard on the roof
CNN telling lies, “There is not any proof”!

As Joe tried to think, but no brain cells were found,
Down the chimney came Santa, who said, “Hello, clown”.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And he told old dumb Brandon, what to do with himself.

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Meant nothing to Brandon, alas, he’s brain-dead.

Santa spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Filled the stockings with coal, then turned to the jerk,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose,
Leaving no powdered candy, for Hunter’s big nose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew, escaping this crime family abyssal.

Brandon heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
“Merry Christmas to all, but Biden voters not bright”.