Carpel Tunnel Syndrome
Is most likely on the way,
Since channel-surfing is the sport
I play most every day.
Gripping the remote so hard
My knuckles turn to white,
Searching for that station
With a decent show tonight.
I get sixty channels
But no matter how I try
Law & Order's all I find,
Or maybe Family Guy.
Cooking shows proliferate,
The infomercial reigns;
The first leaves me with nausea,
The second with migraines.
Clicking like a madman
I breeze past the baseball game.
CNN is in a rut,
The Travel Channel's lame.
My attention span has shrunk
To that of a first grader.
I bubble with impatience
Like a coffee percolator.
Soon the channels are a blur . . .
How deeply I regret
Selling off my library
To buy this TV set.
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