On this, the eve of ghoulishness
Of witchery, of bleakness
The media should ask itself,
“What is our greatest weakness?”
For creatures great and small
That clearly lack some introspection
Suffer from a process we call
Natural Selection
Unless they do, these journalists
Of dignified distinction
Like sabertooths and dinosaurs
Are heading for extinction
And where once three reporters stood
You’ll see what’s left of three bodies
With no one left to be awarded
Pullitzers or Peabodies
They all believe they toe the line
Of probity and fairness
Which shows they’re lacking lacking
Just a little self-awareness
They sure like to pontificate
To lecture and expound
And think whatever leaves their lips
Is witty and profound
I know this weakness very well
The damage it can do
For I admit before you now,
I suffer from it too
Perhaps they’re just too pretty
As everyone can see
Alas, again, I must admit
The same applies to me
They fail to differentiate
What’s false from what is true
And as a certain consequence
They know not what they do
Whether you write poetry
Fight wars or knit a sweater
Most folks approach the tasks ahead
By trying to do better
Their weakness isn’t vanity
Or arrogance or lying
The sad fact of the matter is
These folks aren’t even trying
