‘Twas the week before Christmas and all over Maine,

The poor folk were mired in holiday pain.

They’d spent the past year making minimum wage

And getting called names by a guy named LePage.


“You’re lazy!” he told them. “You’re liars! You’re cheats!”


He knew this because he once lived on the streets.

But now he was governor – and though it seemed odd,

He couldn’t say “welfare” without saying “fraud.”


He thought he could stop it by cutting the budget,

“But wait!” said his critics. “You’re trying to fudge it!”


“Back off,” said the Governor, “or else we’ll go broke.”

“Besides, all your questions are making me choke!”


“But Governor,” they countered, “You want to cut millions!”

“Your questions,” he shot back, “are in the gazillions!”

He then put the real blame for all the commotion


On something he called “economic emotion.”


“What’s that?” people asked from the House to the Senate.

“I know!” said his translator, Adrienne Bennett.

“It means … ummm … let’s see here,” she said with smile.

“Oh yes, it means liberals are all in denial!”



But outside Augusta, where real people dwell,

The fear ran as deep as a bottomless well.

Try as they might to assert they weren’t faking

They worried their safety net soon would be breaking.



Seniors with Alzheimer’s, folks who need pills,

Recovering addicts, the mentally ill

All looked to the State House and wondered, “Why us?”

Why would LePage throw them under the bus?


The theories were many: Some said his demeanor


Was caused by his father, who was quite the screamer.

Or maybe his predisposition to fight

Helped him conceal that he wasn’t that bright.


Then there were those who said most of the friction

Stemmed from LePage’s addiction to fiction.


Like when he claimed, “Forbes hates Maine’s welfare – it’s bloated!”

Responded the magazine, “We’ve been misquoted!”


Or when he said, “Sippy cups aren’t all that weird.

“Who cares if they make ladies grow little beards?”

LePage was the master of taking a lie


And calling it truth without batting an eye.


Still, some hoped with Christmas Day around the corner

LePage might back off, might become a bit warmer.

Maine has, after all, long looked out for its own

Especially when the economy’s down.



But alas, as the state wrapped itself in good cheer,

The man in the Blaine House cracked open a beer.

And while the poor shivered in cold, drafty huts,

He said, “Merry Christmas? Yeah, right. Kiss my butt!”


Columnist Bill Nemitz can be contacted at 791-6323 or at:


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