And ye, in any wise keep yourselves from the accursed thing, lest ye make yourselves accursed ... Joshua 6:18.

On a hazy night in '46 Satan met with his unholy tribe; Now listen, you devils, he said with glee, The entire world is about to transcribe. They've invented a box they call TV; Its shape is square, it has pictures and sound. They practically kneel to its image; Those fools think it's really profound!

Can you imagine what this means to us? Why, we'll hardly need to lift our forks! They don't know how slick we are - Those dolts believe we're a bunch of dorks! I can hardly believe this stroke of luck. We'll load the Board of Directables; We'll convince the world that evil is good And have them think we're respectables.

Dear me, Satan purred, I can hardly wait To twist and turn and rationalize; National Enquirer will have to fold - We'll steal the rights to sensationalize! There's one big fly in my appointment, though - Some folks are saying I started this! How can they accuse me of such a deed? I've always treasoned with a wily kiss.

Only the foolish would be so blatant; Why, I even cringe at some of the trash; Surely we don't need to throw it so hard... We want them to fall, but not with a crash. At first we'll stress the family virtues: Honesty, faith, and all that stuff; We'll give them new minds and hearts and goals All pumped and primed with a lot of fluff.

And then we'll start undressing the angels; Stress that nudity is artistic fare. We'll make those goodies feel out of place. Good heavens (or hell!), why be so square! So do your worst, you little devils - Make sure there's a box in every home. We can't let slip this glorious chance To write their names in our swelling tome!