Poem: The Media Circus

THE MEDIA CIRCUS

It’s Super Tuesday all through the land
National Media says it will be grand.
Just follow their lead
They’ll tell us how to think
As they make their bold predictions
With a subtle nod and wink.

Talking heads, empty thoughts, just puppets on a string
Prognosticating, prophesying, on each and every thing.
They tell us what is going to be
And how the vote will go.
Unless, of course, the polls are wrong
And then they just don’t know.

Hours and hours every day they ramble, rant and rave
The tell us what we’re supposed to do, and how we should behave.
Follow our lead, here’s how to act
No worry, bother or fuss.
But if the vote should go wrong
“You surely can’t blame us.”

We read the polls, we poked and pried, we questioned everyone
We even have opinions from the chauffeur’s younger son.
His daddy drives the candidate
To every campaign stop.
He surely has some real hot news
That no one else can top.

Where is the scoop, the nugget, the juicy little bit
Something that our network has, but no one else has hit.
It may be true, it could be false
We can’t take time to test.
We’ll just put it on the air
And hope it’s for the best.

If we should be mistaken, in a statement strong
We’ll just ignore the error for we cannot be wrong.
Pretend we did not say to you
Which candidate will win.
Our experts have informed us
That 4 plus 5 is ten.

Should Candidate X say black is white, and candidate Y says no
We’ll love that little argument, for we can make it grow.
We’ll twist their words, and mispronounce
Whatever they might say.
To keep our jobs requires we have
New stories every day.

Although we may not always be exactly true
We are National Media, no one would dare to sue.
So all day long we’ll tell you
Almost man to man
The things you have already heard,
And will shortly hear again.

Would not it be a strange little quirk
If these reporters really had to work?
If they dug a ditch, built a house
Saw how real workers fare.
It would do much for Global Warming
By eliminating much hot air.

                                                       by Al Manning,
                                                        aka: Resident Curmudgeon