Mocking the Scenery

You mock the scenery: "Spectacular!"
And laugh at me displaying once again
An inability to deal with pain,
Declaring coolly to me, "Macular
Degeneration rules!" Oracular
And unregenerate, you love the rain
That grows the quinoa; your sharpened brain
Rejects using the plain vernacular.

What spectacle has raised such woeful glee?
Is it a public statue, ill designed,
Betraying tastelessness, absence of mind,
Or fat dogs underneath an ugly tree?
I cringe to hear you mock the scenery,
Attempting comfort for the newly blind.