The speaker confesses to being hooked on the news, and the poem is blunt about what that feels like. The opening comparison is a strange one: news is like a prize hog, or like "someone with my carcass." Both images treat the speaker's body as something to be fattened, handled, or used. The news doesn't just reach him; it takes hold of him.
The two short commands, "inform me" and "disorder me," sit side by side as if they were the same request. That is the joke and the sting. The speaker wants to be informed but gets thrown off balance, and he keeps asking anyway. Then the last lines turn almost tender and a little helpless: at night, "point me to bed." He can't even manage sleep on his own and needs the same source to send him off.
The mood is wry, tired, and self-aware. It's funny, but it also admits how dependent the speaker has become.