Depressing Presser

by flammeusgladius

Depressing Presser



At the last presser, how the slugs abase
Themselves before the idol they adore.
Yes, funny ears may flank his smirking face—
But punks pledge adulation evermore.
Every guy there becomes a lipsticked whore
Flashing, in fishnet stockings, loads of thigh.
And there is more submission yet in store:
Not one cunt in the room is close to dry.
Questions boil down to: “Love you! Hi, hi, hi!”
They ask him to evaluate his own
Transcendent greatness. When he does, they sigh.
Out in the viewing audience, I groan.
Yet I rejoice – to know the genre’s past.
This presidential love fest is his last!



–Tom Riley



(The Lord Obama grants obsequious press corps one final press conference.)