The Ballad of Cassandros, Master of Argument

So fine and eloquent the master quoth his argument
His foes were instant swept away, their phrases torn and rent.
Heap praises endless unto him- what title beareth he?
Heir to title Oracle- such great AUTHORITY!

But what opinions hold this noble modern Solomon?
What wisdom, what ecclesiast's dwell deep within his dome?
A list of little things of common life that irketh him
He writes for all to read, upon a wisest little whim.

The first and foremost of these irrelevant things reads thus:
(Drawn from his Bottom Ten, that is, the bottom-most) "Primus-
BULVERISMS". For indeed, to flee these 'tis good votive:
For low must one descend to change debate from Fact to Motive.

Now being right concerning everything, Cassandros shall we call him-
But why? What secrets doth he bear? What tragedy befalls him?
No-one believes him, even though he knows that he is right!
And enemies charge unto him, in argument to fight!

One dreams up strange theologies, defends them with insistence:
A dreadful foe, spawned from his nightmares, Bain of His Existence.
The other's but his Nemesis- of statecraft waxes he:
Of politics, the natures of both Law and Liberty.

The Oracle-in-training speaks of Hierarchic Pyramids,
Indeed he speaks the truth, rising above each of us hearing this!
The lady sitting next to him, he asks to be his Queen:
Each every glorious word he speaks is confident in mien.

His nemesis- oh horrors! doth believe in Rule of Law!
He searches through our hero's arguments to find a flaw!
The foe spies logic-circular, deep at its very root-
Our hero, though is always right- why ought he move his foot?

"But EVERYBODY uses Circle-logic!" whineth he,
"Now Bulverisms, how I hate those! O so verily!"
And so the villain asks him, "What gives you thine firm opinions?
If 'tis still true, what truths around it form its binding pinions?"

A trap! The wise Cassandros, Oracle-forsaken,
Considers his escape, lest his dear words be fried like bacon.
A secret weapon dost the anti-Bulverist pull forth-
What is this last resort of his? 'Tis Bulver'sm, of course!

Indeed, lest it be forgot, it must now be repeated,
Our hero's words are always true! He cannot be defeated!
With skill and eloquence and being-right his foe is pulverized:
How gloriously is his flimsy, poor argument now Bulverized!

Indeed Cassandros reigns victorious, shouts it to the crowd!
The Master of all Argument, O chant his praises loud!
The audience 'round the ring speak in an loud and echoed fluster-
That on this day he Bulverized- best tactic he could muster!

Indeed he did his best, this Bulverist, best words e'er spoken!
For he was right, and Bulverized, and thus his foe is broken!
Such great integrity is held within Cassandros' heart-
The anti-Bulverist, however, now deigns to depart.

For he is humble 'fore the crowd, his man of endless fame:
For humbly doth he say he's right- none can put him to shame!
His words are all immune, indeed, to insult or to satire,
For he is always right, and so why do others' words matter?

And thus he humbly states that he is right 'bout everything,
And shouts it to the throngs, and in the streets it he doth sing.
Why is he right? He Bulverizes, winning every fight:
Bulverisms, of course, justified, because he knows he's right.