I don't watch the news to see the earth's fate,
But to be reassured that it will come late,
Later, at least, than my life's gonna last,
By which I mean when this century's past.
For there's nothing like the fine evening news,
Where this old earth's crises are carefully fused
To stories of cats stuck up in a tree,
And kindly execs who moonlight for free.
To hear it from Mainstream the world's just fine,
Despite the squawks of Islamic divines,
Yes, there are troubles that make you say "Gosh!",
But none so bad they don't come out in the wash.
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