Seventy Percent Are Mad

The T.V. Set is blaring, as usual for it is the law to keep it on. Year 2035, and the gatekeepers need to watch people twenty-five six. Yes, I know it used to be twenty-four, seven, but the ghouls recalculated. There are fourteen months now too; twelve was not enough. Announcement: Researchers say that thirty-percent of world is blind and deaf. I stare at the T.V. set. Surely that figure is too low. I think of all the people I know who cannot see the truth Even after it climbs into their laps and bites them on the nose. Preferring to believe the experts of their favorite stations over their observations. At least fifty-six percent of the population is deaf. For I have seen all the mothers in the grocery store not doing a thing While their children yell, scream, swear, and torment other shoppers. It might be sixty-six percent. Think of all those fathers at the ball games Who must not be able to hear their own words as they scream stupidity at the coach. Announcement: Seventy percent of the world are mad. This propaganda is getting way out of hand. I know only one person who is not mad. She sticks her tongue out at the T.V. set and puts her foot through it. ALERT! ALERT! Destroyer at 627 Hemlock Street! Destruction of Government Property! They haul me out for hanging three seconds later.