sometimes i fall into the “first one’s free, kid” online trap

and i pay nothing but i do install the app

and there goes a chunk of my disposable time

and all for more distractive irrelevance that makes as much difference in my life as does laryngitis to a mime,

and MUCH later i wake up and smell the stripped-wire fumes

and i go to System and then Apps and count the dozens of app-piranha amounting to an app-inferno that consumes and consumes and consumes,

and find the truth of my subconscious-originated rumor

is that the apps not only consume system resources but also the very being of one GWB-monogrammed consumer.

so i get out the handy-dandy System lawnmower more technically known as Uninstall,

but though i want to seek&destroy them all,

after just a few have been dispatched i start remembering a niceness about this one or a funness about that one,

and i just can’t bring myself to do in the Jokers On Parade one or oblivionize the Don’t You Just Love a Cat one,

and in a few days i again become rapturously entrapped

and, minorest of minor poets that i am, i realize that Apped has, does, and ever will rhyme with Zapped.

.

Renewed thanks to the spirit of the inventor of the style I employed for this poem, the immortal Ogden Nash.