Robert Verdon, #44, confession of my lounge room dreams

local anaesthetic

seeps from my favourite

tv station (so many to choose from!),

affecting only

the brain

we watch it for the

re-runs of cop and cooking shows

animal programs and docos

about shark attacks, cricket,

football and panel games,

some in Chinese (ain’t progress

grand?, some of the ads are clever,

most are crap, the kids love ’em of course,
but when I turn the

sound down I feel lonely,
but when I turn the

sound down I feel lonely,

Philo T. Farnsworth and John Logie

Baird’d be proud — dunno about

Vladimir K. Zworykin as I think

he was a commo — oh,

I do know the history of tv, there was a

show about it on tv)

then the news

arab terror conspiracies and alcohol-fuelled

violence followed breathlessly

by sport

(what a relief!)

sometimes the wife and I

get off in front of the tv

but only late at night

usually NCIS is on, or

some other Yank stuff,

not The Big Bang Theory, and

never porn; after all,

we both gotta

get up for work
and evangelism
in the morning.