apologies to Edgar Allen Poe
Once upon a midnight dreary, watching TV, feeling queerly,
Watching many a quaint and curious Pundit of forgotten Bore,
While I nodded, nearly sleeping, suddenly there came a screeching,
As if someone over reaching, over reaching a point most sore;
"Tis some reporter," I muttered "screeching like his ass was tore."
Only this and nothing more.
Ah, distinctly I remember, was it June or last September,
When each separate voting member caucused from the chamber floor.
Eagerly I sought a Pundit, wondering who had won it,
Mayhap to see if HE had done it -- done it for the lost and poor,
For it's rare to find an office seeker working for the lost and poor,
Nameless here for Evermore.
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