4/28/1996
It was the night before the last Poe and all through the lobby, all the creatures were stirring and waiting for Bobby.
The suits and tuxedos were all hung with care, for the final finale and who would be there.
The golf match began under dark clouds and rain, but more water would be needed to put out the flames.
In a move quite befitting of Poe’s funeral pyre, some local street urchins set the 12th green on fire.Â
That’s what the police thought, who said there and then, but one of the pyros looked a lot like Michael Plen.
When the sun finally set and the heat had abated, we met at the bar to see who was out-dated.
The Poe group has never been known for their clothing, but some of these outfits brought out fear and loathing.
Oh, drinks were consumed and fire alarms rung, but most were just pacing for what was to come.
The second day’s panels were as boring as ever, the hottest topic was forecasting the weather.
A bunch boarded buses where the talk was quite muted, it reminded us all of last year’s Camp Hootie.
The White House was warned of terrorist infiltration, but most were jailed just for a night of detention.
We were escorted through by a man with a gun, but bullets and bombs couldn’t keep us from fun.
Andrea played press sec. from the President’s pew, but instead of questions, it was fruit that we threw.
We saw Nixon’s picture and Truman’s victrola, but the highlight was Clinton’s autographed copy of “PAYOLA!â€
We witnessed the wall, of Abe and the steeple, but the hours were dwindling and so were the people.
Dale took off his clothes and jumped in the pond, the crowd shouted in unison, “Put ‘em on, put ‘em on.â€
Let’s not forget Lisa, who fell on her head, in the hedges she mistakenly took for her bed.
The boa came calling again right on cue, but this time was witnessed by only a few.
Which two were the drunkest? Well, that story goes to MTV’s favorite and the girl with nice toes.
Some lightweights left early, they couldn’t take the abuse, but Burt was the one with the lamest excuse.
Gary Bird’s was the best…a noble invention. He took a group to Cleveland to plan next year’s convention.
It wouldn’t be long until the final toast, but many were wondering if we would get through the roast.
Mason Dixon was the first one who started to dish and we all were surprised that he did it sans fish.
Dan Vallie’s soft voice barely cut through the dinner, but his speech, like his stations, was definitely a winner.
Daniel Glass hadn’t missed one since who-knows-who-had, he spoke only good things and left out the bad.
Ms. Ganis was classy, thoughtful and nice; it was the first time she had made it through Saturday night.
Richard Palmese stunned the crowd without using money, he was the first of the roasters who actually was funny!
Jay Stevens is awesome at WPGC, but it isn’t the slides the makes a PD.
His speech was the shortest, as all will attest, and many (because of this) thought Jonas was best.
The question was “Does Jimmy shit in the woods?â€Â We all knew the old bear would if he would.
Davenport stole the show with all his tales, of wild sex and whiskey and checks in the mail.
He was crowned king by a loud voice vote, because Jimmy was the only one who mentioned the goat.
Fiedel, the preacher, gave all our just dues, we were surprised that he did it with shoes.
Novia was shaky, but he could have been robbed…he spent all his practice time pitching for jobs.
I’d mention the other who used slides with precision, but I’m not allowed to without his permission.
McCartney was accused of spinning a fable, especially when he mumbled nice things about Cagle.
We all learned a new word when you fall on your fanny, when everything goes wrong it’s called a Galliani.
Dave Sholin played guinea pig alone on the log, he quoted from B.G. and died like a dog.
I was the last one to bang on the gong, I swear I’ve had jobs that never lasted so long.
I now have the last word to leave on the list. We all love you, Poe Kat…you will missed.