Guilty Pleasures in Food, Film & Libation



Friday, January 22, 2010

Internet Killed the Video Star

I don't have T.V. Most people upon hearing these words screw up their face in a fashion that would be more appropriate if I had kicked their dog or stole their lunch money. I do own a television on which I watch many films in my free time, I merely do not have any form of cable or local channels. I hate to "veg" out and watch television. The canned laughter of the sitcoms, the drama of Days of Our Lives, the loco antics on Telemundo!, and the bloody commercials...oh for the love of all that is good and pure on this Earth, the commercials. I am painfully aware of the blatant attempt to lull me into submission, to buy whatever product is being peddled at the moment by gently caressing the ethos, pathos or legos of my psyche. And this makes me mad. The logical side of me knows that I am more than capable of turning on my own lights, but rhetoric within a sales pitch makes me think that my life is a dismal existence filled with the mundane switching of plastic toggles as I am not a proud owner of "The Clapper". Is my life an empty, filthy cavern of disgust because my cleaning supplies don't include the Shamwow? I want to run out and by Tide because it cleans twice as many stains as its competitors, I want to buy a bed at Mattress World because who DOESN'T want to sleep like a baby? I want to cast my vote for Senator so and so because he's a "family man", and he has "values" and "morals", and somehow I feel the need to run out and buy Ladies Speed Stick, no idea why, but they have me sold. I feel like I've been duped, hornswaggled by the strategically placed buzzwords within the media. The attempt to sway my vote, to beguile me of money, to saturate my mind with an endless supply of jingles upon jingles for various products that I don't want or need is over for me. I have chosen to shed the manacles of cable, to stop the flow of worthless information at the source. The piper is still there, seducing and cajoling the rats with a melodious tune and a greasy dance of joy, and I am happy to say that my dance card is full.