The Inferior Posterior

Sometimes, competition can breed contentment - or not - a rhyming poem.

My sense of humor is just such a blast,
Whether finishing first or close to dead last,
But now and again, it seems such a waste, 
Once a great mood is now such a bad taste…

People often comment, when I am done,
I didn’t enjoy it – these games aren’t much fun…
But the last thing I’d ever require is to fail;
Enough can be said for that kick in the tail!

But whether my game is cool or inferior,
Nothing can beat having a large posterior!
So enough about the target pinned to my back;
And enough about me – what things do they lack? 

Every generation has its riveting prime,
Mine will come soon, it’s a matter of time… 
But whether indicted, or prosecuted by law,
I'm surely mistaken about their guffaw…