Simply Sena-sational. (A love poem)

I have counted the votes, and you morons decided that you wanted me to publish the epic poem that won Fox News' Miss Suzanne Sena's heart.

It's perhaps the finest work ever published in the history of the blogosphere. I say that humbly. The credit, of course, does not go to me. I am simply the vessel thru which Suzanne Sena's inspirational essence flows. (See how great that line is? It merely hints at what is to come.)

I'll put this epic masterpice in the extended entry, so that you won't have to read it if this is of no interest to you. Don't let the fact that this will most likely be thought of by future generations as a work that is as important as "Beowulf" prejudice your decision.

And now, for your voyeuristic pleasure, I present to you my masterpiece. How long did it take me to write it? A lifetime, my friends. A lifetime.

UPDATE: They are trying to bury my masterpiece with lots of new posts, so I am bumping this one closer to the top. Humor me, or I'll publish Volume II.

I remember the first time I saw her,
years ago, but as vivid as the picture
on my new
high definition TV.

She was hosting an entertainment section on
a Channel called "E!"
which I thought was for homos
and only stumbled upon
accidentally.

But as I watched her light up my screen
I realized that something profound was happening here.
Her beauty was so transcendent that I could watch
and not have anyone think I was queer.

Electric Elegance.
Electric Elegance.
Electric.
Elegance.
Shimmery, glimmery, lightning in a bottle.
As sleek and as sexy
as my
Harley at full throttle.

I remember my Dad.
He was a man of few words.
But great action.
A commander of men, really.
A Colossi who strode the Earth.
And he told me once,
"Jack, have a dream.
Reach for the stars,
but keep your feet on the ground."

No, my Father was not Casey Casem.
He just listened to a lot of radio.
And met my mother
after she sent him a long distance dedication
on
"American Top Forty"
while he was in Vietnam.
Or Grenada.
Or maybe Panama.
I don't really remember the story.

It's the moral that counts, really.
And the lesson I learned was that love blooms
even in the most barren of gardens
when someone like Suzanne Sena
holds
the
watering can.

Did you ever notice the tiny rainbows
that form
in the droplets of morning dew
just prior to their
evaporation by
the sun?

That's like Suzanne Sena's
overnight cut-in's
on Fox
during Red Eye.
A short-lived moment of beauty
every morning
at 2:30.

Speaking of Red Eye,
I wonder if Andrew Levy will read this.
He comments here sometimes.
And seems like a good guy.
For, you know, one of the chosen people.
And by "chosen" I of course mean
blonde.

Which brings me back to Suzanne.
Sweet, sweet Suzanne.
When we had our first date,
and went to Baskin Robbins,
we had a conversation about music.

It turns out that she knows her rock and roll.
I told you she was perfect.
Anyway, she brought up the subject of "Double Albums"
and asked which one I thought was the greatest of all time.

So I said "The Beatles", known to you morons as "The White Album".
And she countered with Dylan's "Blonde on Blonde".
Which threw me off my game.
Because I started to think about Suzanne and Courtney Freil.
I told you she was good.

Anyway, when we got home.
I put on "Blonde on Blonde"
and we listened to "Visions of Johanna".
And when Dylan sang that the "ghosts of electricity howled
in the bones of her face".
I got pissed off.
Because I thought he ripped off my electric elegance line.
Turns out the song is 40 years old though.
Huh.

That's older than me.
So I guess I shouldn't hold a grudge.
But I do.
Bastard.

Ah, Suzanne!
Not "Oh, Suzanna"
Unless you prefer that.
Which,
if you do,
means I'll have to buy a banjo.
'Cause I already have a knee.
Which would totally be cool.
So long as I never have to actually
you know
play that gawdawful hillbilly thing.
For you though,
I'd at least
pretend.

Geez the Patriots are killing the Chargers.
This game is really pretty boring.
Like that Administrative Law course I took in law school.
Where the Professor was all up in my face with his
"Code of Federal Regulations" this and his
"Federal Agency" that.
But I knew that no matter how bad
my class got
I could retreat to my "happy place"
which differs from "my bunk"
only in that Suzanne Sena appears there
during the day.

While I'm watching TV of course.
Geez you are pervs.
Of course if you weren't voyeurs
you wouldn't still be reading of my love for Suzanne Sena
so I guess McCartney was right.

After all he said "And in the end,
the love you take,
is equal to the love,
you make."

Which doesn't really mean anything in the context of the reference.
But nothing in this poem has rhymed in quite a while.
So I thought i would fit it in.
To satisfy those pedants
who think poems
have to rhyme
to be
poems.

Tell it to Maya Angelou, suckas.
If she were writing of her love for Suzanne Sena,
She would be writing crap like:
"The tree spirit
suckels the river spirits nipple
As mother Africa
births another boulder.
Tree.
River.
Rock.
Untamed spirit of feminine awareness!"

That crap doesn't rhyme.
And yet she is a poet.
I guess.
Maybe that's open for debate.
What isn't open for debate
is that Suzanne Sena is
the most beautiful overnight news anchor to
ever appear on Red Eye.
And all you Ainsley Earhardt fans
can suck it.

Ahhh....Red Eye.
A lot of people say that Red Eye is nothing more than
an hour of Gutfeld
filled in
with Hover-Round commercials.

But I disagree,
in the strongest possible terms.
Red Eye is actually
2 minutes of Suzanne Sena
surrounded by 58 minutes of Gutfeld.

Greedy Bastard.
Who does he think he is, anyway?
Just because he worked for Maxim
he gets to surround himself with hotties?
At least I don't have to worry
about Bill's motives when he sits next to Suzanne
on the show.

Suzanne
Sena
Suzanne
Senasational.

No, I'm not stalling for time.
I'm engaging in word play.
To show I'm clever.
Chicks dig that.
Or so
Allah tells me.
Of course we are both blogging
on our respective sites tonight.
So maybe I should
seek someone else's
advice.

Actually, that last paragraph was a lie.
This isn't my site.
I just have privileges.
You don't want to know what I had to do to get them.
Let's just say I never needed a bottle of Scope
so badly.
And Suzanne must never know.

Suzanne, Suzanne
So easy on the eyes.
And so sweet....so very sweet.
Did you ever notice that nothing tastes sweeter than candy
you've stolen from a baby?
That's how sweet Suzanne Sena is.
Stolen baby candy sweet.

I know a guy.
And by know I mean "hate".
Who got married a couple of years ago
and who's first child was probably the
Anti-Sena.

Cholicy and ugly little bastard.
And the kid was no picnic either.
Anyway, I stole candy from that kid.
But I had a good reason.
I wanted to make him cry.

And when those tears were running down his
fat face,
and his nagging wife was trying to get the kid
to stop screaming
I made a move for the pacifier too
but it was out of reach.

You may be wondering,
"Jack, why would you be mean to a baby?"
To which I answer,
"I THOUGHT YOU WERE MY FRIENDS!"

But you know who would never be mean to a baby?
Suzanne Sena.
Her dark brown eyes,
simply radiate empathy,
compassion,
and love.

And the blush in her cheeks,
when she talks about me in the You Tube clip,
is like twin roses
or carnations.
I bet she smells like lilacs.
But not James Lileks.
Talk about a buzzkill.

Sometimes free association is a bitch.
Now I'm thinking about Lileks.
And Minnesota.
Next thing you know I will be reading "PowerLine".
Nah,
strike that.
Thinking about a blogger called "hindrocket"
is even worse for my libido
than thinking about
Lileks.

Make no mistake tho.
They are both really, really, bad things for my libido.
I mean,
negative numbers bad.
I just want that on the record.

You know what else I want on the record?
My deep appreciation for Fox News' Miss Suzanne Sena.
I forwarded the YouTube Clip to my Mom.
Who has been having a really difficult time
for a number of reasons
that I won't go into here.
And that clip made her laugh,
for the first time
in a long while.

And for that, I will always be grateful.
I've never met Miss Sena.
Or even Andrew Levy.
But they brought joy to my Mom
and I think that's pretty cool.
For all my goofyness,
something good came out of it.

I just wanted to say that.
Before I slipped back into character
and continued flirting with my
once and future bride.

For she will be my bride.
It is written in the stars.
If you use a loose definition of "stars"
to include the illuminated sign at
Sonic
that I paid some 17 year old kid
to put the phrase
"Suzanne Sena + Jack M."

I got ripped off though.
Because the sign at the Sonic,
didnt have any S's.
or J's.

So the sign read "uzanne ena + ack m."
"2 for $2.99"

Which, in many ways,
is not the message I intended to send.
Because Suzanne Sena is not cheap.

I guess I should be grateful though.
At least the kid at Sonic didn't put the n's on the sign backwards.
Don't you hate it when you see that?
A whole generation of retards who think that because
the "Toys 'R Us" sign
has a backwards "R"
they can just do whatever they want with they letters.

There are rules, people.
And they are there for a reason.
Like the rule about
never ending your sentences with a preposition.
That is one
you retards
should really
listen
to.

But my lovely Suzanne knows all the language rules.
Her grammar is excellent.
her speaking voice is sultry.
Especially for someone
from Michigan.
Which is like
the Mississippi of the North.
Except that Mississippi
never lost
to Appalachian State.

So, Miss Sena, as you can see.
I've had a thing for you since your days on "E!".
Grace and Style and Beauty
The only thing worth watching on my TV.
Excluding football.
A guy has to maintain some latitude
after all.
Lest his buds think he is whipped.
Which would be pretty embarrassing.

Of course as a resident blogger here at AoS HQ,
I've learned to embrace embarrassment.
To run with it.
To own it.

I'm just saying.

So if you find yourself needing a date,
for dinner or something,
you know, casual.
Nothing too gaudy.
Just send me an e-mail.
Or have Levy contact Ace.
I'll be discrete.
I'm a gentleman.

Would it be ok if I sent out a press release?
Or maybe took some pictures on my camera phone?
Something I could put on the blog?
So these morons would stop telling me "she's way out of your league, Jack".
Even though
you probably are.
Because you are Suzanne Sena.
A supernova.
The airwaves brightest shining star.

Thus ends the poem that won me the enduring love and affection of Fox News' Miss Suzanne Sena. If you want an invite to our future wedding, please e-mail LauraW. She organized Aceapalooza, so I figure she can handle this.

posted by Jack M. at 12:50 PM

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