After a long day at work there is nothing more mind numbing than being put in the perfect storm of crap television.
The controller gives you the illusion of control, that is your first mistake.
It starts slow, catching the last 15 minutes of Charlie Sheen’s old show.
Its a good show, one that I like, but I have seen this one in excess of a dozen times.
Somehow, I find myself 20 minutes into Property Virgins.
This property virgins are always a stones throw to 20 years old, and invariably have expectations that no house on the planet can meet, for their meager budget.
I have never seen them before this, and yet I hate the couple with every fiber of my being.
So I change the channel and found myself watching some white-haired Southern lady make a soufle that I would not touch with a ten foot pole.
Its not hell, but you can see it from here.
The next show is a reality show that seems to revolve around a half dozen gay prima donna seamstresses.
Evidently, the contestant that says the least bitchie thing is voted off.
I don’t think it is gay bashing to say that these rotten queens would get their asses kicked in any demographic, gay or straight.
A brief ray of light comes from watching the final 10 minutes of an old episode of MASH.
God, I miss that show.
However, it is soon over and the next show that comes on doesn’t hold my attention for long.
I am comfortable with the fact that I have the attention span of a gnat at time.
Not to offend anyone, but the Golden Girls show sucks so bad that I begin to imagine watching the final episode, the one where they all die.
It would be the highest ratings that the show ever had.
Alan Alder could kick Maude’s ass in a bare knuckle Fight Club match.
And if you understand that reference, you are OLD!
Television imploded about 20 years ago and has sucked ever since.
Or maybe it was just that period of my perspective.
Everything seems better when you are a kid.
I think it is because you don’t pay as much attention as you do as an adult.
Life will do that to you.
Its like my mother’s cooking.
I have teased my mother for decades about her cooking.
And yet I look forward to family dinners at my folks when they happen.
Maybe the crap television is just a metaphor for life.
Grass always being greener and all that.
And yet, while watching a rerun of the Voice, I cannot for the life of me figure out if Christina Aquilara is a hot mess or not.
She has that delightful hot and damaged look to her that makes it hard to look away.
And Cee Lo Green is just plain wierd.
And I cannot sing a note to save my life.
But the odds are against having to.
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