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THE TELEPROMPTER SPEAKS

I stand here and work, doing my job,

And I do more than this crappy slob,

When I have nothing more to say,

I shut my mouth and go away,

But he keeps droning on and on,

Like he believes he is the sun,

I get locked up in a box,

While he spends money like a pox,

Standing, or boxed, doing my due,

Golfing, hotels, he heeds only few,

When you’re done with me, you pull the plug,

But no such luck with this Chicago thug,

Oh, by the way, I have more brains,

While this brain-dead suit continues to reign!

PTR September 16, 2011