He’s newsworthy good.
He’s fare imbalanced,
Remiss, understood.

He always flashed manly,
Pro testosterone.
He loves to air excess,
The brawl and Capone.

He’ll fuss over trifles,
Trash tabloid TV.
He dials up loathesome,
Stomach-churn and queasy.

He always brings jerky,
He always brings beef.
A wanting food for lo-rent thought,
A wanton phoo motif.

In blatant self-promotion,
He penned an odd memoir.
Exposing Myself,
A raunch of rank bizarre.

Of spunk, a hunk,
A seamy woo-hoo.
A punk of junque,
Funk hullabaloo.

Prurient fabrication,
Cut from whole cloth.
What we now see is threadbare,
An unbuttoned assault.

So…….

What’s all the fuss,
O’er this au natural treat.
This sag of sad muscle,
This man indiscreet.

This trashy exposure,
Seen rose-colored truth.
It’s raw and so shameless,
A gamy uncouth.

“70 is the new 50,”
Oh, boy, what a tweet!
A photo bare nifty,
An e-goad conceit.

No one cares what you look like,
Mister Lothario.
It’s vain and it’s haunting,
We scream,
“Hell no!”

All this self-serving,
Unhinged and unclasped.
We offer you some advice,
It’s easy to grasp…

No one wants to see you flash this,
The twee of your ‘big show’.  
Just quit the queasy excess…
Of blatant…

Boy, he is good
A real, unreeling goodie
A wanting, helpless ‘selfie’
Please lend this man a hoodie!