Vidiots

MIKE, spoken: Hey, Wonka, if you can send chocolate by TV, can you send a person too?

WILLY WONKA, spoken: Oh, I suppose so, but there might be some technical issues…

OOMPA-LOOMPAS: Alas, alas, poor Mike Teavee

For OMG, he's ADD

MIKE, spoken: You can’t stop progress, I’m doing it!

WILLY WONKA, spoken: Uh, Mike… no!

OOMPA-LOOMPAS: He's like so many nowadays

It’s awfully modern, this malaise

MIKE, spoken: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Mike Teavee TV Show!

OOMPA-LOOMPAS: For every child that threw a fit

The TV set would babysit

MRS. TEAVEE, spoken: Mr. Wonka where is he?

WILLY WONKA, spoken: I’m looking, I’m looking! There’s so many channels!

OOMPA-LOOMPAS: Attention spans have gone pell-mell

There's only time for LOL

MRS. TEAVEE, spoken: The little people are singing again. That’s never a good sign.

OOMPA-LOOMPAS: They never step outside to play

Their world is dark both night and day

MRS. TEAVEE, spoken: He’s jumping from screen to screen!

WILLY WONKA, spoken: I think it’s called channel hopping.

OOMPA-LOOMPAS: The skies of blue, the pinks, the greens

Are only viewed on laptop screens

MRS. TEAVEE, spoken: Get him out of there!

MIKE, spoken: I’m on TV! Look at me! Look at me!

OOMPA-LOOMPAS: They only move and exercise

MRS. TEAVEE, spoken: What’s happened to him?

OOMPA-LOOMPAS: Their clicking finger and their thumb

WILLY WONKA, spoken: He’s shrunk to fit the TV screen.

OOMPA-LOOMPAS: Each brain cell overloads and dies

CHARLIE, spoken: Will he ever go back to normal?

OOMPA-LOOMPAS: As all their limbs are turning numb

WILLY WONKA, spoken: No one ever goes back to normal after they’ve been on television.

OOMPA-LOOMPAS: Vidiots!

They’re just vidiots!

The age of innocence is gone

Once certain sites are clicked upon

The images that they repeat

Once in the brain you can’t delete

And then like some barbaric huns

Our toddlers all are packing guns

Now children curse and smoke cigars

Our nurseries now have prison bars

They scream and rant and raise their fists

And fire their psychiatrists

We hear them all, the teenage horde

They scream the battle cry “we’re bored!”

Their minds will surely turn to mush

With words that make an ex-con blush

They never mind their ps and qs

They long for piercings and tattoos

Vidiots!

They’re just vidiots!

WILLY WONKA, spoken: It’s years since I’ve been to a rave!

OOMPA-LOOMPAS: With all this info at a click

A book will rot upon the shelf

If all the answers come too quick

A child won’t think for himself

Each day they text on their new toy

Their thoughts and their location

But OMG, will this destroy

The art of conversation?

WILLY WONKA: So sing the story, Mrs. T

OOMPA-LOOMPAS: What's now become of Mike Teavee

MRS. TEAVEE: From wasting his entire brain

OOMPA-LOOMPAS: He's stuck inside his own domain

WILLY WONKA: He'll channel surf till whereupon

OOMPA-LOOMPAS: He'll find that nothing good is on

MRS. TEAVEE: And there is no remote control

OOMPA-LOOMPAS: That he can use to find his soul

WILLY WONKA: His secrets now are yours and mine

OOMPA-LOOMPAS: 'Cause everything he's got's online

MRS. TEAVEE: And who will watch just Mike Teavee

OOMPA-LOOMPAS: When there is newer junk to see?

WILLY WONKA: What once was viral's soon forgot

MRS. TEAVEE: But hand the clicker to his mom

WILLY WONKA: His future's not completely shot

OOMPA-LOOMPAS: His new address is

WILLY WONKA & OOMPA-LOOMPAS: Mike dot com

OOMPA-LOOMPAS: Vidiots!

They're just vidiots!

Vidiots!

They're just vidiots!

They're just vidiots!