Charlie Rose Poem by gershon hepner

All-nude wrestling in the mud
is what I like, it cools the blood
that boils while watching other shows,
with one exception, Charlie Rose.
Though everybody wags a finger
at vulgar hosts like Jerry Springer,
I hate the ones who're more offensive,
self-righteous always, and expensive,
like Donaldson and Roberts, Cokie,
and George Will, whose blows are low-key.
Such men retain their underclothes
and wrestle presidents for oaths
more shamelessly than men who're naked
and show their manhood, even shake it,
pretending not to be much more
than entertainers. What a bore,
the men who don't remove their jackets,
of body politic the maggots,
it seems that that's the way it goes,
except, of course, for Charlie Rose.

Mr. Talbot, the editor of Salon, an on-line magazine, said that when being interviewed on TV the most important thing is not makeover or clothes. 'It's all-nude mud-wrestling shows right, ' he said, except for Charlie Rose' (Alex Kuczynski, 'Covering the Ink with Pancake, ' NYT, September 28,1998) .

9/28/98