I can never resist a parody poem challenge. Even if it's not directed at me.
So, a bit of the old Prufrock, dressed in the clothes of a political hack:
Let us go then, go and lie,
To the people; the press supine with tight shut eyes
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, with fatuous half-truths and deceits
The fact-checkers in retreat.
Through the ballrooms and lobbies of Washington hotels
And dim-lit restaurants with oyster-shells:
No one challenges our tedious arguments,
Our cynical intent.
Nobody asks a probing question….
Oh, do not ask, “That’s not true, is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.
In the green room the interns come and go
Talking of Marco Rubio.
etc., in your imagination