CT Blue

Listen my reader(s), you’ll eventually hear
All my predictions for the coming New Year
Open a bottle of your strongest of stuff
You better get plenty, though it won’t be enough

The future I’ll serve you like holiday dishes
Sorry, I doubt I can fill all your wishes
There’s reason to hope, but far more to fear
But we don’t have a choice, so on to next year

Lets start with the stuff that’s on everyone’s mind
This year, Obama leaves his old job behind
We pick a successor, are we all having fun?
Well there’s lots more coming ‘fore the election is won

The Republican Party, in a century long slump
Will finally hit bottom-Can you say Donald Trump?
And if it’s not him, I’ve even worse news
If it’s not him, it will be Teddy Cruz

As for the Dems, if you’re feeling the Bern
I’ve news that is sad, your affections must turn
For the Titans of Wall Street will allow no such frillery
The fix it is in, we must make do with Hillary

After that, as you know, it is still early innings
Clinton must work before collecting her winnings
From the press there’ll be questions on issues deemed critical
Like emails, Benghazi and motives political

But as they campaign neath the hot August sun
Some things we won’t hear, and I’ll tell you just one
Though the Earth it is warming in ways quite absurd
About climate change we’ll hear nary a word

Still in the end, when the votes are all cast
She’ll win when the race is over at last
If that’s not the case then I’ll sally forth
After packing my bags I’ll head straight to the North

All through the year the gun folks will rage
It will take thirty kills just to make the front page!
Unless you’re a Muslim, it goes without saying
One bullet from them will set the Fox baying

Here’s a prediction that’s sure to come true
If you disagree then you haven’t a clue
The Congress, controlled by the party in red
Will do not a thing but tell the country: drop dead

Are you growing weary; am I starting to bore?
You may have a point, but don’t head for the door
Here’s an end to political prognostication
(I can practically feel your sincere approbation )

Now I can turn to subjects less pressing
Like what will be in, or how we’ll be dressing
But on those two subjects I can’t ply my wit
Because…honestly… I don’t give a (can’t think of a rhyme, please give me time)

There must be a subject that I can explore
Something every American loves to the core
Some port that is safe to which I’ll resort
Isn’t it obvious? Time to talk sport

In the first days of spring they will start to play ball
And this year the Sox will not fail in the fall
At least when compared to the year that has passed
They won’t come in first, but they won’t be dead last

As for the sports that aren’t played with a bat
I give less for them than the ass of a rat
So you won’t hear from me ’bout the Celts or the Pats
I meant what I said ’bout that part of the rat

If you took my advice in stanza the first
And drank your way through this quite wretched verse
Your head it is swimming; you just cannot cope
For an end to your labors you’ve no doubt lost hope

But take heart, I’ve good news: this is certain
Two more lines and then down comes the curtain
For a repeat of this you have little to fear
It won’t happen again for at least one more year