TV, or not TV -- that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
Vain Vanna's vowels on the "Wheel of Fortune"
Or to raise arm against a sea of silly
And by remote click, end it. To click, turn off --
No more -- and by "turn off" to say we end
The heartburn, and the thousand stupid schlocks
TV has aired, too. 'Tis a termination
Directed to my dish. Turn off, could sleep --
Could sleep -- or eat ice cream; ay, entire tub;
Though TV air "Macbeth", commercials come;
But we can shut it off; ad portal, foil;
Or "mute", or "pause". There's disconnect
That helps us tolerate such inane ads.
For who would bear the tips on stains from Tide,
Soap sponsor's song, the limp man's Viagra,
The Tang of ersatz juice, the time delay
Re: incident of Jackson, and the urns
That Janet offers, bared by Timberlake,
When he himself might peace and quiet make
With a mere "off" click? Who would farters bear,
Who grunt and sweat in ads for laxative,
But that the dread of something in "real life",
The pesky world that's "out there": - in faked shows,
Reality returns; scares us to still,
And makes us rather bear such shows we have
Than fly to real life that we know not of?
Thus laziness makes cowards of us all,
And thus the thousand lines of resolution
Are sicker more with weak crew, cast, and plot;
And enterprisers' putrid pitch and sales spiel
With this regard, on sofa make us stay
And sit in numb inaction. -- Look you, now -
Fair Angelina! Nymph, in thy areoles
Are TV's sins dismembered!