There in broth that man’s created,
Dwell organisms whose appetites can’t be sated.
Three or so specie dwell in th’ tank.
Observe them through glass, dark and dank.
Here’s the favorite; manta eel like. Be not deceived by his humble roots,
Seeking out victims, now lurking alone, but for sure in cahoots,
With bigger fish who pull the strings of this department store mannequin.
Like a taxidermist prize, his face set in a sanctimonious grin.
Dressed in Sunday finery, the best of fashion’s trim.
Watch him swim by as a shark seeking its next victim.
The MS in the title, stands not for manuscript which would give credit,
But instead to a sinister monster that grips them as they play for it.
Out of his depth and in rarified elements,
He puts on a show to entertain, not to inform or make any sense.
Selecting the best His Party can offer to dishonor and disgrace its foes,
Somehow missing those of their own, that in moral disgrace goes.
Is it the lone broke-caw that we hear from this twitty bird?
No, he’s just one of the three-some of which we have heard.
Partner in the crime which is called providing the news,
Is the one who must have been rescued from the embalmer’s mews.
The product of times past when the best that t’was offered,
Was a bit of intelligence on the environment in which all suffered.
Carried to an extreme, this aging Wonder holds out for victory,
Regardless of cost and with no regard for history.
Global Warming’s his cudgel, with bit players of two child-like Spaniards,
El Nino and La Nina, he distorts the truth and preaches the best of canards.
Never mind that Man has had little to do with the rise of the ocean’s seas,
His spiel is to fill time in the tank and broker His Politics to please.
If you Rather’d not watch this grey one of the past,
There’s chance to observe the best that Canadian Culture can cast.
Into the living rooms of working class stiffs,
Who wont accept Cable as one of th’ nation’s gifts.
Ginning over some newly chosen topic with a liberal bend,
We find that this one’s the entertainment industry’s best friend.
Biased in coverage, how can you doubt
That this slick willy of the pond will find some new wrong to try-out.
So in the fish bowl that all can see, are this tiresome three.
They swim in concert, only a suggestion of independence free,
Circling like buzzards in search of their next victim,
Sad to say that unlike in the other bowl; you can’t flush-em.
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