When you’re behind on watching stuff
Avoiding spoilers can be tough.
Right now the Cavs still have a chance, and
So do those not Evan Hansen.
Maybe I’ll just stay awake
All night or, better yet, I’ll take
A social media hiatus
‘Til I’ve caught the broadcasts. Laters!
I skipped the Veep debate. It’s true.
The nation’s nascent Number Two
Was there on stage tonight, and I
Was watching Big Bang Theory. Why?
In part, to clear the DVR:
It’s full. It’s Fall. That’s how things are.
But also ’cause I couldn’t care
Much less what either said up there.
It’s not as if the undercard
Will make a difference. It’s not hard
Imagining that Kaine or Pence
Might be the POTUS, largely since
We’re forced to think the same of Trump:
A bar that low’s a cinch to jump.
A sitting senator or gov
Has proven skills. I may not love
Their policies or points of view,
But either, um, “trumps” you-know-who,
And neither’s whom we’re voting for
Five weeks from now. They know the score.
Their job tonight was not to suck.
I wish them both the best of luck.
The winner earns a bucket filled
With processed fluids lately spilled
By he or she atop the ticket;
This debate won’t help me pick it.
John Nance Garner’d second this
(And wouldn’t mix up spit and piss).
Either way, cheers, Number Two!
That Number One is all for you.
I’m just a little bit behind
On Rio’s games, but I don’t mind.
They’re worse at work: One guy–I’m shocked–he’s
Still discussing Ryan Lochte!
He swam, like, a week ago!
I’m poky, but I’m not that slow!
Nothing on the DVR.
I need. I need! I need!
I can’t think what my options are.
Oh, wait…I learned to read!
The work, the work, to come this far
The obstacles to where we are
Were legion and they’ve left a scar
But like the magi with the star
We crested ben and mastered mar
To top the ever-rising bar:
We’ve emptied out the DVR.
It’s not my antisocial gene
(Though that’s alive and well),
It’s all my online friends who mean
No harm, but always tell
How playoff games are going–or, what’s worse,
The way they stop–
That keeps me web-averse
Until I’ve reaped the TiVo crop.
It’s bittersweet to come so far
Then say good-bye, but here we are
For twenty days we gazed and gasped
Our minds entwined, our fingers clasped
And now, tonight, the twenty-first
Since we began, we’ve learnt the worst:
The DVR’s blown out the last
Olympic flame — the Games have passed.