the joy of terrorvision

I went ahead and bit the bullet, got a little thirteen inch Toshiba. We've got cable in the apartment, so as soon as I got it home, I plugged it in and we were off. It wasn't a big statement, not having a TV, it just was not my first priority. I'd gone without since October. The first couple of weeks were a little rough. I don't watch it a lot, but I missed Judge Judy and Dr. Phil and Katie and Matt. But I knew I'd see them again, which made the separation easier to bear.

The thing you forget when you go without the telly a while is how miserable and pathetic we're all supposed to be out here in TV Land. They don't come right out and say it usually, but it's the underlying assumption, and it's not so terribly subtle. That's how people sell you things you don't want or need, and that's TV's raison d'etre, pretty much.

Lester Holt was on NBC Saturday morning, with his crooked little smile and sad eyes, hawking "happiness makeovers." It was so poignant I almost wanted to cry. I popped 600 mgs of St. John's wort instead, and laughed and laughed. I couldn't have cried if my dog, my cat, and my two birds had all committed mass suicide in my tropical aquarium, taking the clownfish with 'em.

I was all set to have a productive afternoon this afternoon, when I made the fatal mistake of flipping to the Discovery Health channel. That's some riveting shit, let me tell you. Got totally sucked in, for, like, four hours. First it was Switching Sexes: The Aftermath, then The 160 lb tumor (pictured above), then The Boy Whose Skin Fell Off. I finally tore myself away during the opening minutes of Mystery Diagnosis. I was ravenous, had to eat something after all that.

I'm not knockin' Discovery Health, either. Some wild, funky shit, but very educational.

Good to be back, anyway.


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