I am an unabashed TV snob. For three years now, I have been that guy who, in response to inquiries on West Wing or quips about The Weakest Link coolly shoots back a disenchanted, “I don’t really watch TV.” I only turn on the idiot box to take in the latest in world news or the occasional highbrow film. Yup, that guy.
I initially chalked it up to the fact that I simply do not have the time to sit down for more than a few minutes at once, much less to take in the barrage of reality TV and mind-numbing sit-coms that pervade the airwaves. TV is, and always will be, an opportunity cost to productivity, and is more of an academic sinkhole than Yates. Gradually, however, I began to be won over by the hard-line anti-TV crusader bent, noting that television is nothing more than a tool of the consumerist and political forces that are guiding the nation into docility and avarice. Then I realized that I simply don’t care who the hell Rachel marries or who gets eaten by sharks on Survivor. Moreover, I’m pretentious enough to lambaste and dissociate myself from those who do.
Or so I thought. These past few weeks have marked my descent down a slippery slope into electron-beamed hell, and I love it. My arrogance has always permitted me to take in film, particularly of the sophisticated, foreign or indie varieties. If I can use the viewing to make ironic or pithy remarks in order to demonstrate my cultural adeptness, all the better. Over Thanksgiving, however, I gradually immersed myself in the traditional holiday offerings from my youth. Who can say no to The Goonies, even the 500th time? In conjunction with my now compulsive “two-for-Tuesday” habit at Mayhem, that has seen me slip from DC Cab all the way to Legally Blonde, this new foray into film sent me reeling into a new wave of TV addiction.
As long as I had a movie on, I could pause and flip it to CNN. Fair enough? Unfortunately, in the wake of Sept. 11 and its subsequent coverage, I have finally come to the realization that all SFSers need to make: CNN is really, really boring. So, M2 it was. By the end of one evening this week, I was into a full-fledged Dismissed marathon. Oh, how I missed the trailer-trash hookups and superbly-crafted dialogue. Now, I’m a full-fledged junkie. I no longer watch TV because it is edifying or because I can derive thinly-veiled “ironic” enjoyment from it. No, I think I actually like it this time around.
After all, the real world involves far too much thinking, organizing and doing. With TV, and some sort of flat surface, one can lay docile for days on end with nary a movement for sleep or nourishment, thanks to the host of available delivery options. Why go to the gym, or read mind-expanding works of literature when you have dozens of channels packed to the brim with people to ridicule instead? Why interact with friends and loved ones when in the same sitting, you can watch fifteen consecutive hours of The Real World and that Petey Pablo video?
Now that I have broken free from my previously TV-bereft and therefore meaningless existence, I am free to guiltlessly procrastinate in conveniently deceptive half-hour segments under the auspices of “cultural commentary,” eat dinner on the couch and, best of all, it involves virtually no thought whatsoever.
Be proud, then, TV addicts of all races and creeds. You have discovered a convenient and comfortably mollifying solution to day-to-day life. This exam season, I wholeheartedly recommend eschewing the books in favor of the tube, which will selflessly invigorate the reptilian sections of you brain, hopefully undoing the stress of an entire semester of academic nonsense. I, for one, am already ravenously awaiting winter break, during which I have committed myself to an alcohol-and-TV-only (preferably at the same time) policy, in a crash attempt to undo any “learning” that may result as a spillover effect of this past semester. My life may be plagued by a firm dedication to indie-snobbery, but it just got easier.
