Disaster!

Disaster! We were settling in to see
The program we recorded Sunday night,
But something went wrong, and the eerie sight
Of snow, with crackling sounds, on our TV
Assaulted our tame senses, senselessly.
We stare forlornly, and, bereft of light,
I blame the Fates for this unseemly slight,
And curse them ceaselessly. My wife blames me.

How did we get here? Television shows
Run twenty-four hours daily, mostly junk,
Detritus, falsehood, emptiness, and bunk,
The end of culture, and, so TV goes,
It played again, as everybody knows,
This afternoon. We watched it then. It stunk.