Dec. 11 The Yule Grog
“Aren’t we forgetting the true meaning of Christmas. You know, the birth of Santa?” -Matt Groening
Greetings my thirsty readers! Back on June 17, I wrote a fun little piece called "How the Grog Stole Christmas." Since then, there's been a lot of interest, both in the writing and the drink. A lot has happened with the old Grog himself since then, and that should be documented. With this in mind, I felt you all deserved a sequel.
'Twas the night before progress, and the people were cheering
For the Grog's final days were soon to be nearing.
The ballots were tallied, so there wouldn't be doubt
No matter how much his cronies would scream and they'd shout.
We were all social distanced, all snug in our homes
With hopes of a future , and a chance down the road;
As Kamala in her Chucks and Joe in his shades
Ensured everyone this division would fade.
When into the courtrooms they burst in with such noise,
Leaving us scratching our heads, half amused, half annoyed.
Away to our phone screens, we refreshed our news feeds,
We had to know for certain, "Did he have this much greed?"
There were talks of a press conference, "The Four Seasons", proclaimed Rudy,
Though we found him in a garden center, next to where they sold dirty movies.
And what happened next, which suspended belief?
Did the Grog speak of the virus; did he offer relief?
Yet what did we hear when he opened his mouth?
That he wanted all their votes to be discarded and tossed out.
He sent all his lawyers to make baseless claims,
Though without a single case, they didn't know where to aim.
"On Georgia, on Michigan, Pennsylvania, Wisconsin!"
The lunacy from his brain bode something was rotten.
"To the Supreme Court, to the state legislature,"
Spewed the voice of a sad, would-be dictator.
So off to the states to pressure lawmakers,
With the political equivalent of a sloppy haymaker.
He emerged from Air Force One, with a smirk on his face,
The poster for America's biggest disgrace.
He was dressed in bad suits, and his tailor should be fired.
He looked like cottage cheese which long had expired,
Just lumpy and weird with caked-on foundation.
This is certainly no way for a leader to be behaving.
His tie, red and long, dragged on the ground,
like all the poor souls his hate had kept down.
He had a terrible scowl; his breath was quite smelly,
And every inch of him shook like a bowl full of jelly.
He wouldn't concede, and that worried the nation,
Pausing any attempt at a freedom celebration.
He sat and he pouted, knowing his days were numbered,
Having lived in denial, tweeting for years as we slumbered.
"Covfefe," We still didn't know what it meant,
but that's how the Grog would sit and just vent.
It was time to be finished, and we knew it was coming.
It seems there was nowhere for the Grog to be running.
The moving trucks were packed, and it was time to move out,
But fear of pending lawsuits had him panicking about.
With his final remarks, as his tiny heels he digged,
"Merry Christmas for none! This election was rigged!"
The Yule Grog
.75oz Aged Jamaican Rum
.75oz Aged Barbados Rum
.75oz Pineapple Rum (I used Maggie's Farm)
.25oz Branca Menta
.25oz Don's Spices #2
.25oz Passion Fruit Syrup
.5oz Honey Syrup
.75oz Lime Juice
.75oz Grapefruit Juice
Mai Tai or Double Old Fashioned Glass
Shake and strain over grog cone.
Garnish with mint sprigs, flowers, and powdered sugar.
*If a grog cone isn't in your arsenal, this drink is more than happy to live on some crushed ice."
All jokes aside, this has really been a wild ride leading into the holidays. If it were an amusement park, I'd certainly want my money back. Let's not allow the ugly of the world to ruin our cheer. Hopefully I helped a bit today. Until tomorrow, you'd better watch out, you'd better not cry, and you'd better keep shaking.