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WEDNESDAY, 19 JANUARY, 2000, PHILADELPHIA EDGAR ALLAN POE’S BIRTHDAY |
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I have not been a TV watcher since the mid-80’s. How many times have we heard that line, sighed, reclined into our oxblood leather comfy-chair and thought, “Aw shit, here comes a pretentious tirade against the Big Bad Media”? Fret ye not. I have no intentions of traipsing down that well-worn path in this li’l essay. Okay, okay, there may be some pretentious prattle, and only the French can get away with that kind of talk these days. But I have a bit of French in me, vous voyez, so humour me for a moment, won’t you? Merci, mes petits choux! My utterance of “I have not watched TV since…” is more riddled with shame than pretentious self-righteousness, French-in-me-be-damned. As a result of my eschewing all things televised, I confess to being dreadfully uninformed on a myriad topics from current local and global events, to being in a position to give only a bovine blink when conversation turns to society’s hottest and latest new icons. “Moe. Eee. Sha? Whodafuk?” And Ignorance is the 1st deadly sin, in my book. So it is obnoxiously contradictive of me to choose to be ignorant on so many levels, because as much rot as is on the telley, there’s scads of useful information too. Like, who be Moe. Eee. Sha. Like upon which new war we are teetering. Like who’s the fuckin’ president of the country in which I choose to live? Little things like that. For shame, for shame. Bad, bad marquis! I surely merit a spanking. I certainly hope so at any rate, but that is another matter entirely. Here’s the real reason I do not watch the television programmes: I am ridiculously enraged by the advertisements. I once commented to a friend of mine, who threw my silly quip back at me much later, and it has become cement because it was ‘quoted’: “Life is one big Hard Sell, and it’s driving me BANANAS!” I will not be sold to. The incessant, inane chatter of adverts, either in my face, or in another room, or over loudspeakers at the grocery, or wherever, gets under my skin and irritates like an acid. “Buy this! Buy now! While supplies last! And to really drive our point home, we offer you this mangled cliché: ‘If a penny saved is a penny earned, you’ll be rich!’ Quick! Before Sunday, come consume, consume, CONSUME!!!” I didn’t ask for that. And it’s invading my personal space. I do not live in Tokyo. I require personal space. And if I’m interested in yer godamned product, believe me I’ll ask about it. Don’t waste my time with your snivelling pitches. Smelly monkey! Argh. See? My panties are quite bunched up and in my ass-crack, and that’s just from talking about force-fed adverts. You can imagine the ‘fun’ I have with telemarketers, or, heh heh, my favourites, door-to-door goons. I should mention, just in case the Assoc. on Unamerican Activities is monitoring this, that I am in fact a good little consumer, just like everybody else. I buy shit, okay? And get taxed up the ass for it. So I’m committing no crime, for the ultimate crime in this country at least is to live hermit-like and not to contribute to the great god Cashflowacles. Why just today I received “The House of Yes” DVD at work. And, okay, I admit I get a secret thrill knowing that what I paid in S&H did not instead go into sales tax. That’s one of the secret treats of buying shit on the internet. <PLUG> (Great movie, “House of Yes”. Ya seen it? The box art chants, “Dark, Clever Comedy!” Ah, my three favourite words. And they only work together, for any one alone is sad. Except for Clever of course.)</PLUG> So rush right out and trample the homeless in your mad panic to the stores to buy, consume, become “The House of Yes.” Quick! While supplies last! Don’t touch that dial! If you order today you also get put on our mailing list! Do you hear!? You should! Because everything I am saying is an exclamation! AN EXCLAMATION OF $AVING$!!! Burp. Ahem. ‘Scuse me. “It is difficult to produce a television documentary that is both incisive and probing, when every twelve minutes one is interrupted by dancing rabbits singing about toilet paper.” — Rod Serling |
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