information in poetry

When the world is invaded
by gigantic tin cans,
boots and tomatoes
from outer space,
don’t come crying
to Ron Popeil.
He tried.

They’ll take your city
while you’re watching your oven
when you had the option to
SET IT AND FORGET IT
but don’t come crying
to Ron Popeil.
He TRIED!

When they bring down all the radio stations
within a hundred miles of your home
and you could have communicated a counter-attack
through a network of relayed
Mister Microphones
don’t come crying
to Ron Popeil.
HE TRIED!

You could have dehydrated your food
to take to the hills to survive.
You could have used your smokeless ashtrays
to hide your campfires
and you’d still be alive.
You could have hidden your bald spots
with GLH-9
and looked so virile and young
that they would piss their pants
and drop their zap guns
so don’t come crying to Ron.
The guy tried.

And when you try to call him
his phone machine is all you’ll get
he’ll have ascended to heaven
so he can’t answer yet.
DON’T ANSWER YET.
YOU’LL DESERVE WHAT YOU GET.
For not listening.
To Ron.