At Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce, the games
That people play intrigue us all, beguiled
By how these ad-men multiply their shames,
Show after show, their characters defiled
By sordid love affairs, back-stabbing moves
And intra-office rivalries that score
Them points, but scar their souls, which proves
Mad Avenue insane, a rotten whore.
Yet still we tune in faithfully to gawk
At fresh abominations week by week,
Watching the clever ways they find to hawk
Heinz beans or Jaguars, as the ratings peak.
Perhaps instead of trash, a tragedy
Unfolds—with pity, fear, catastrophe.