I was running for prez as The-Buck-Stops-Here Phil:
Experience, youth, and good looks to kill.
Gray ladies sponsored me, my back slapped by Teamsters,
My campaign planned out by silver-tied scheme-sters.
But now I'm told my hat's out of the old ring,
About which I'm unable to do a damn thing.
.
"What's this?" I said. "Why, I'll smear those guys!
Check my record, my stands, my good taste in ties!
I'll get more laws passed than old LBJ,
I'll whup the Chinese, have Vlad for entre'e!
You can't tell me Americans don't want that.
Just give me a chance, my one turn at bat!"
.
But around the conf' table there sounded a sigh:
My aides said, "Boss, you'd better check the AI,"
And gave me its report with worrying glances.
Here's Chat GPT on good ol' Phil's chances:
"For money and media access he'll want,
At most he might take just D.C. and Vermont."
.
I said, "That's outrageous, this is but a machine!
It's me who can read the tea leaves in Racine!
I trade jokes with the poor and rock babies to sleep,
Take selfies in seconds and look great in a jeep.
Look at my numbers in the Great State of Tex',
And tell me I'm not a Politicus Rex!"
.
But it did no good, GPT won the day:
With hard smiles and regrets, my team slipped away.
And what should I try for, a pol of my stature?
A shoo-in, the report said, for dog-catcher,
So for the photog', with mayhem in eye,
I pose for a new ad, done in by AI.
