by Angel Cohn, a terrible poet, who doesn't watch The Bachelorette but has been forced to edit the weecaps all season.
DeAnna dear, it's time to choose,
Which bachelor will be denied,
Between these two beaus you just can't lose,
Though for us at home, this season has been refried.
Even though you've kissed and more
And come across like a whore
These last two months have been quite a bore.
We've listened as you've droned on and on
About that bastard Brad who broke your heart
And now it is time for you to do your part
By putting an end to your liaison
With one of the chosen two
Both who make you say, "Brad, who?"
On bended knee these desperate wannabes,
Will both grovel for your hand on reality TV.
But their actions will make you finally decree
Whether you will be marrying Jason or Jesse.
However, those loyal watchers still don't care one bit
About how you've become America's biggest hypocrite.
You can't deny that in your attempt to win true love,
You've gone and done what you've convicted Brad of,
Which is leading someone to believe
That you actually care about more than your hair.
Now one guy will look like the biggest ass you can conceive
Though it is likely he'll become the next brokenhearted Bachelor.
Okay, so the last word needs to be pronounced "Bachel-aire" in order for it to rhyme with "hair." Give me a break, people. Poetry is hard. I mean, I spent a good ten minutes crafting this crap, which is really all this show deserves.
MOST RECENT POSTS