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    Our annual holiday card to readers, in verse

    Linzie Hunter for The Boston Globe

    Greetings! Hola! Bon Noel!

    Come right in and rest a spell.

    Kick the Uggs off, lose the hoodie.


    Grab a plate of home-baked goodies.

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    Coffee? Cocoa? Pinot noir?

    The hearth is lit and here we are

    To welcome all ye faithful who

    Would share a cup of our yule brew:


    A mashed-up missive, couplet-ized

    And sent each year in warm reprise

    To readers who, as Christmas dawns,

    Might fetch it from their frosted lawns.

    * * *

    First of all — and not in passing —


    A holiday-of-all-faiths blessing.

    Could we take a moment here

    To make our quarrels disappear?

    Red states, blue states, Mitt v. Barry:

    Just for one day, let’s make merry,

    Tout ensemble, as they say,

    In keeping with this jolly day.

    No more going all kvetch-y,

    No more speeches Etch A Sketch-y.

    Just peace, good will, and harmony

    Bundled here beneath our tree.

    * * *

    Six days left and this year’s done!

    We must confess it’s had its fun,

    So bear with our irreverence while

    We almanac it Gangnam Style.

    The Court endorsed Obamacare.

    Eastwood grilled an empty chair.

    Mommy porn was shaded grey.

    Critics clucked at Chick-fil-A.

    Jesus married? Who’d have thought it?

    Karl Rove’s math? Nobody bought it.

    Scandal roiled the BBC.

    Strike three! called on Bobby V.

    * * *

    Facebook’s IPO fell flat.

    Higgs boson? God, what is that?

    Good/bad news for legal pot:

    The Stones rolled on, but Twinkies? Not.

    “Argo,” “Lincoln,” “Les Miz,” “Flight” —

    Which flies highest Oscar night?

    Lust-crazed generals, fiscal cliffs,

    Big Bird memes, replacement refs,

    Data mining, shopping apps,

    Frankenstorms, spoiled Apple maps,

    Pink slime, swelling college debt —

    Plus more we’d just as soon forget.

    * * *

    But hark, who could that elf in sleigh be?

    Old St. Nick? Then call him, maybe

    He’ll Kickstarter our soiree

    And superfund this holiday.

    IRL, they’re scores of pals we’ll

    Invite to our late-year revels:

    Dan Day-Lewis, in stovepipe hat;

    Usain Bolt, in seconds flat.

    Fearless Felix, Honey Boo Boo,

    Arn Chorn-Pond, and Shin-Soo Choo.

    Yo, Charles Steinberg, come on down!

    We’re popping corks to pour a round

    * * *

    For Gov. Chris Christie, Ethel K.,

    Richard Ford, and Emeli Sande.

    Champagne punch, we’ve mixed a gallon

    For Nikki Haley, Jimmy Fallon,

    Martha Raddatz, Channing Tatum,

    Pussy Riot, and Matt Damon,

    While basking in the fire’s glow

    Are Pete Townshend, Renzo Piano,

    Ke$ha, Bibi Netanyahu,

    Nate Silver, and Robert Caro,

    Chatting up chef Guy Fieri,

    John Boehner, and John Forbes Kerry.

    * * *

    As long as we play Words With Friends

    We’ll trust this party never ends

    And pass a candy-caned confection,

    To Aly Raisman, One Direction,

    Lionel Messi, Dave O’Brien,

    Ryan Lochte, and Paul Ryan.

    Instagram-wise, we shall share

    Photos of this swank affair

    With Carmen Ortiz, Ayana Mathis,

    Rhod Sharp and Quvenzhane Wallis.

    Expecting they will be retweeting

    Candid shots of season’s greetings.

    * * *

    This bash of ours needs no reminders

    Whose names ought to go in binders

    Filled with e-vites to those chums

    We want around when Santa comes:

    Adam Sandler, Sen. Liz Warren,

    Sandra Fluke and Bacall, Lauren.

    Tom Menino, get well fast.

    Richard Engel, join our cast

    And sing a chorus of “Deck the Halls”

    To Paul Rudd and Diana Krall

    While we lift one last frothy flagon

    To Steve Greenlee and Marty Baron.

    * * *

    All right, enough of this old tune.

    The Mayans claimed it all ends soon.

    In fire? Ice? Alien invasion?

    Reindeer-fueled self-deportation?

    This not-for-prophet missive states

    There’s more in store to fill our plates

    And all we know is we’re still here

    To wish you all a bright New Year.

    Joseph P. Kahn parks his sleigh at