The Pundit

The Pundit

(With apologies to Kenny Rogers.)

On a cold autumn evening, in a dusty Fox News green room
I met up with a pundit; we were both right-wing newsgeeks
So we took turns a starin' at the talking heads before us
Till ennui overtook us, and she began to speak:

Well, son, I've made a life out of debating with the moonbats
I know how to check their facts, and catch them in a lie
But now I face soft bigotry of low expectorations
So it's time to cash my chips in and tell ol' Bill goodbye.

You gotta know when to talk 'em
Know when to mock 'em
Know when to snorty-snort
And when to blog
You never count your ratings
When you're sittin' in as anchor
There'll be a lot of guest-spots
When O' Reilly's done.

Now every pundit knows that the secret to running networks
Is knowing what to throw away and knowing what to keep.
Slick Jokers like the Moustache, his kind's a dime a dozen,
But without some smart conservatives they'll put Fox Fans to sleep.

So when she finished speaking, she turned back to her laptop,
Punched out a quick blog post telling off some lib'ral creep.
And somewhere in the ether, that pundit, she's still speaking.
But in her graceful exit was an ace that I could keep.

You gotta know when to write 'em
Know when to fight 'em
Know when to call their bluff
If you get spun;
You'll still get out your message
In the newer sorts of media
There's no time to waste with the spitters
If you're not having fun.