The Gores - Poem

National Review, Dec 31, 1999

Year after year, you know our tradition-

We send out a rhyme, a Christmas edition,

Filled with family news of the just-finished year,

Only something has happened to dampen our cheer.

Not "something" but "someone," to be more precise.

Someone has done something not very nice.

Someone has taken our Christmas away.

Someone has led New Hampshire astray.

It's, sadly, Bill Bradley.

That's who it is,

Who has stunk up the party and let out the fizz.

But do any of you know just who he is?

He'll take your money! He'll raise your taxes!

I'm totally serious! The one thing he lacks is

A twirling mustache and a black cape and hat.

There's something NOT RIGHT about a delivery so

flat.

And talk about programs! His are quite rotten!

No more subsidies for wheatgrass and cotton.

He's no friend of farmers, of workers, of gays,

Of blacks and Latinos, youngsters and greys.

If you're a senior, this is no joke.

He'll stop your checks; you will die broke.

I'll increase your Medicare, even give it a raise,

You'll get checks till the end of your days.

Remember this: No one but Al can

Keep you from dining on leftover Kal-Kan.

That's me, Al, as in "Alpha,"

Male as in "man."

Consultants are trying as hard as they can

To make me sound more like a regular guy,

Like someone without a stick stuck up so high.

How did this happen? What wrong turn did I take?

This was all supposed to be one big piece of cake.

I had the money, the funders-I'll list them.

Now my entire campaign's on a life-support system.

Me! I invented the Internet! The light bulb! The Post-

it!

I've won three Oscars! Next year I will host it!

What about software? Linux and Quicken?

Or how about a safe way to handle raw chicken?

I've invented them all! Me and just only me!

I'm a gift that keeps giving! I'm your own giving tree!

Ignore the multiple voices of those media cranks-

Make me the POTUS as a way to say "Thanks."

So won't you vote for me? Early and often?

And let what's-his-name's bounce falter and soften?

But enough about me. Let's talk about you.

Don't YOU want me to be president too?

Don't YOU think I'm special? Think I really have

earned it?

If there was something to learn from the master I

learned it.

I learned to say "yes" when I mean really "no,"

How to say "stop" when I actually mean "go,"

I took it all in, eight years of instruction,

In the political art of personal destruction-

Whew! Let's take a breath

And drop all this blather

About campaigns and pollsters

And wouldn't you rather

Think about Christmas? The holiday season?

I mean isn't that really the whole entire reason

We send out these cards? To all our supporters

And to a select few still-loyal reporters?

To them we say "Cheers" from the expanding Gore

clan-

To you we say "Merry!" and "Happy!" and "Can

We all make a promise, to ourselves and each other

That next year we'll try harder to love one another?"

Give it a shot. What do you say?

(If it doesn't work out, we'll blame Y2K.)

We wish you good health and success, in a

continuous loop,

And earth tones and high marks from your own focus

group.

May you only get good news from your e-mails and

faxes,

And don't forget Bradley wants to raise all your

taxes!