How does Shea suck? It’s time to count the ways—
Or try. The number may soar out of view.
He sucks because he never has a clue.
He sucks because he turns a lousy phrase
And thinks it’s really neat. He sucks for days
Then has his stomach pumped and sucks anew.
He sucks because the Zeitgeist sticks like glue
To his red beard throughout the tricks he plays.
And, most of all, he sucks for sinking low
In the pursuit of fraud, condemning “hate”
While he himself hates widely. Oh, his show
Convinces some! Perhaps they’ll share his fate.
Shea sucks — and, if what Dante wrote is so,
Shea will be sucking down in Circle Eight.
(This poem is of course a parody of Mrs. Browning’s famous Sonnet 43, which I abominate for its false rhymes, Victorian pieties, and ladylike prissiness. However, Mrs. Browning on her worst day, with a double concussion and having downed a fifth of Scotch, would still be a better writer than Shea on his best day, unpunched and sober. The greatest injustice is that Shea remains unpunched.)