No, my biggest beef with many of my dates was that they didn't own a television.
They weren't moving cross-country or suffering from a broken cathode ray tube. It may seem inconceivable, but there are folks in the world who don't believe in TV.
Bend over and take a deep breath. It helps the dizziness.
I watch more than my share of TV. Rock of Love Bus is not for everyone, I grant you. But for me, being on the pop culture superhighway is part of what defines me, as well as what educates and entertains me. Watching TV provides me with conversational currency. What in the world do these pretentious fucks have to talk about? Seriously?
Without a TV, flatscreen or otherwise, how can you stay apprised of Bret Michaels' bandannas and hair extensions? Or watch Joaquin Phoenix mumble and sasquatch his way through Letterman? Or get unexpectedly sucked into a Ken Burns' documentary or Shark Week? Or bear witness to the majesty of an inauguration or Aretha's inaugural hat?
I'm not talking about the hi-tech nerd who streams stuff on his laptop or catches the latest episode of Flight of the Conchords on an iPhone. No, he's exempt from my rage. He isn't throwing the baby out with the RGB bathwater. No, I'm talking about the cappuccino intellectual who stuffs a tattered copy of Proust into an NPR totebag while listening to Philip Glass and sporting a fedora.
In other words, a massive tool.
If fuckwits such as this aren't going to watch The Office or Olbermann, here's how I think they should pass their colorless days:
- Alternately whack themselves in the face with a first edition of Sex and the City and poke themselves in the eye with the heel of a Manolo.
- Pour a steaming double espresso over their heads.
- Listen to the Doogie Howser M.D. theme song on a continuous loop.
- Electrical tape their eyes open and force them to watch warnings from the Emergency Broadcast System.
- Jump off the GE Building at 30 Rockefeller Plaza.
- And my personal favorite: Hop in a bucket and volunteer as chum during Shark Week.