The arbiter (a poem)

All Hail!  All Hail!

The arbiter is in the house!

Imus grovels gravely

for words he did espouse.

Rutgers' ladies second to

the Court of Sharpton's cause.

Spin it to the Reverend first,

or he'll judge you without pause.

Kiss his foot with contrite lips,

pucker up so well.

'Cuz if you don't,

he'll make your life

a living, race based hell!

Tim Schieferecke