Ring Out the Year With a Rousing Chorus of the Ballad of the Ballot

For years now, I have phoned in my last column of the year by stealing everybody else’s jokes. (You give and give all year long, what’s wrong with coasting a little at the end?)

But even I can’t justify doing that anymore. All jokes are Internet jokes nowadays. It’s gotten to the depressing point where you don’t have to be a licensed professional humorist to steal jokes. Any amateur with a laptop can do it.

I gave considerable thought to how I could still produce a column that required no thought whatsoever.

So in looking for one good joke to tell, I decided to again tell the story of the biggest joke of the year 2000: No, not John Travolta’s ludicrous “Battlefield Earth,” although that’s way up there. It’s the presidential election, stupid.

(And for some reason, it came to me in the form of an epic poem.)

Maestro, if you will . . .

The Florida Sec’y of State,

Ms. Harris, whose friends call her Kate,

Eye shadows she gathered,

Her peepers she slathered,

To certify Bush by said date.

‘Twas Florida that was the site

Of the bitter electoral fight.

The anchors descended,

CNN never ended,

Until Greenfield bid Greta good night.

There was Albert, the Prince of all Gore,

His undoing, his penchant to bore.

George Bush played the foil,

And developed a boil,

Wore a bandage that could cover a floor!

Those butterfly ballots, Egad!

Machine counts were all breaking bad.

It’s Palm Beach Gore needed,

His advisors conceded.

“You must count and then recount the chads.”

Bush trotted out trusty Jim Baker,

Who accused Gore of plotting a caper.

“He will count till he wins!”

“Do not let this begin!”

“Think of Poppy! There’s so much at stake here.”

But the Gator high court went with Gore.

And Bill Daley let out such a roar.

(Richard J. would be proud,

Done a jig in his shroud.)

Tipper looked for some champagne to pour.

Karen Hughes cried the court did Bush wrong.

Ari Fleischer sang the same song.

Dick Cheney said little;

He had tubes in his middle.

From his ranch Bush said, “I’m gonna kill Jeb.”

No! No! He said, “My faith is still strong.”

(Yeah, that’s it.)

All the way up the ladder it climbed.

To the U.S. Supremes, who were primed.

Souter, Breyer and Stevens,

Day O’Connor and even

Chief Rehnquist, who’s out of his mind.

Scalia of course took the lead.

He said, “Nobody messes with me.”

Clarence Thomas said zippo,

Not even a quip-o.

It’s like he was catching some Zzzzs.

The majority had to be five.

But when would the verdict arrive?

Rather, Brokaw and Koppel

Feared the awful debacle:

They’d announce it on “Larry King Live”!

They ultimately called it for Bush,

(Whose brain I’ve described as soft mush.)

The recount was ended.

That’s how Bush ascended,

Minus an actual putsch.

And now soon they’ll inaugurate George.

A presidency somehow to forge.

I don’t want to sound bitter,

But all things considered,

We’d be better off with Victor Borge.