You shocked and you challenged,
Brought good and bad luck.
You inspired and transpired,
But you did mostly suck.
What a way to begin with Barak’s swearing in!
He’s Black and he’s fine.
He’s got depth and can think.
Good riddance, George Dub-yuh,
And P.S. You stink!
The economy tanked along with faith, hope, and fight.
We lost jobs, homes, and health care.
What to do but hang tight?
Petty distractions have kept us afloat.
To follow are likely the most petty of note:
For her busy uterus and lack of a brain.
Kayne West took Taylor Swift’s trophy away.
But he said “Sorry,” and his mom died, so it’s truly okay.
Jon and Kate plus 8 became Jon minus 9.
A bit late to for this break, party pops. You are slime.
In true Tiger style, Woods scores lower than low.
The boy had us scammed as a wholesome hero.
The best of all golfers, two tots, and model wife –
The Woods had no less than a fantasy life.
But his fantasies surpassed 1 and even 14.
Stay in the woods, Tiger. You’re best left unseen.
Miss California shunned gay marriage, lost the Miss USA.
Brittany Spears claims all should marry. (She knows of what she does say.)
Oprah declares her show will soon close.
Jason dumped Molly for Missy, then Missy for Molly.
Follow that final rose!
The Osmonds came back to dance for the prize.
So skilled and so cute. What a delightful surprise.
(‘Scuse me while I puke.)
A handful of the greats who died in 09:
Michael Jackson, whose talent pervades space and time.
Patrick Swayze, whose grace and spirit live on.
Natasha Richardson, a beautiful actress and mom.
Dazzling Brittany Murphy, career interrupted too fast.
For these and all other good souls who have passed,
With special reverence for those who were taken by war,
May their memories be blessings that inspire ever more.
Alas 09, you dashed this gal with fright.
Facing job loss and divorce, I could not see the light.
But I got a new gig, even better than last.
I also dropped the “F” word; my maiden name’s back.
One thing that’s a constant are the damn lawyer fees.
They keep coming back,
Not unlike Donny and Marie. (‘Scuse me while I puke. Again.)
Looking back on the year, I’m quite blessed to say
I ravaged great chocolate. The Lord doth have Her ways.
On a final note, let us ask once again. Shall we?
Is thy sweet heart now grown so cold, that loving breast of thine?
Happy 2010 to my beloved readers!
Robyn Alana Engel
 James Watson’s version, Old Long Syne, 1711
 Literally “old long since.” This Scottish poem, often sung on New Year’s and during other ceremonies (e.g., funerals), is attributed to Robert Burns, 1788.