The Curmudgeon’s Predictions for the Year 2050

Random acts of kindness
to keep up with the senseless acts of violence.
Evil is now called Mental Illness.
#AmericaStrong is now #WorldStrong.
There are more channels
than decent programs to watch.
The Bachelor is in its 100th season–
the ratio of marriages to proposals
have actually slipped.
Chris Harrison still looks the same,
and we all get to see what really goes down
in the fantasy suite.
Someone brought back “The Facts of Life”;
Mindy Cohn lives!
Ticker tape is the only real news.
People read less and move even less.
A GoFundMe account is a viable way of making a living.
Everybody’s watching people cook on TV,
but nobody knows how to cook.
DNA kits that will set you back the price of a fast food meal
can be found in the family planning/prevention section;
they are also complementary with dating site subscriptions,
so those that still care can check their date’s XX or XY status.
Parents unfriend their children over politics,
even the ones that still live with them.
Their real friends are those they will never meet
who are 600 miles away and think like they do
Executions are televised,
for why is porn worse than violence?
Nobody notices the clouds
that look like God disappearing.
Children have disappeared from the parks–
it’s so much easier to keep them safe inside,
getting fatter in front of the television.
Better fat than dead.
If you want real food,
it’s going to cost you.
That is the real reason why healthy eaters are skinny.
You’re lucky if you live long enough to get cancer.
Gardens, cashiers, and cursive writing
are considered quaint little throwbacks to a time
that’s becoming vague in the minds of those
who lived it.

4 thoughts on “The Curmudgeon’s Predictions for the Year 2050

  1. Very cool poem, and already true. No need to wait for 2050. I just wonder if any of the young people who went to Woodstock—the real one, not the ’99 remake, which I understand, wasn’t too great—I wonder if the young people who stayed for three days at Yasger’s farm are pleased or disappointed with where the society has gone, since that heavenly weekend in ’69. I was four at that time, not allowed to use the car. Take it from me; parents just don’t understand. Thea               Sent from Mail for Windows 10                                                                                                 

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