Last night, dinner was ready and I was looking for some kind of entertainment while I ate. Normally I read, but my eyes were tired from a full day of work, so I decided to turn on the TV and do some channel surfing. I hardly ever watch TV any more, and now I know why.
The program I found was interesting enough, as I stumbled onto the last quarter of Kingdom of Heaven with Orlando Bloom (he could read Washington State Revised Code and keep my attention). Kingdom of Heaven is a movie about the crusades to "save" Jerusalem in the 12th century. Further evidence that there will never be peace in the Middle East - the conflict there is centuries old and there are no solutions. But I digress, that's not what this rant is about.
As I was eating my dinner and enjoying my time in the dust and unrest of the Holy City, I was rudely interrupted by a commercial break. (Reason number one for why I dislike mainstream TV). I forked a tidbit of salmon into my mouth just as a woman cheerfully came on the screen to tell me how Ducolax changed her life. "Great," I thought. "I'm eating dinner and they're trying to sell me laxatives..." Next was a commercial for Nutri-System. (Yes, you too, can forget about using your mind, let someone else do the thinking for you, and be fed like freekin' cattle.) Close on the heals of that one was a commercial for Immodium! So, we've been given a drug to make us shit, then we ate, now we need to lock down again. (What the fuck!?) I waited for a commercial to come on regarding IBS... surely that was going to be part of this game. But no, the next commercial was for some kind of Calvin Klein stinky stuff for men. I tried to ponder the demographics that this ad space was selling to, and quickly gave up.
Finally, after a commercial break that was nearly long enough to allow me to eat my entire dinner, it was back to my yummy friend Orlando and his quest for peace amid turmoil. Just as things were cranking up again - the battlements had been fortified, the women and children were hidden away for safety, the men had been knighted, Saladin's army was standing in the desert, just waiting for the right moment to attack... and... and... and... commercial break! Agghh!!!
Once again, the woman came on to tell me how Ducolax could make my life more comfortable. Next, a happy couple strolled through a mountain meadow as some voice over told me how Cialis would change my life. Fascinating, Captain! You mean, all those spam emails are true?! Next came the commercial for men's cologne again (because now you've spent the day pretending to love walking through the wildflowers just so you can get laid, your dick is hard, and you need to smell good just so you can get sweaty again). That was followed by a commercial depicting a greedy teen (ah yes, the expensive by-product of a night of steamy sex) leaving messages all over the house so his parents would know what to buy him to show their love.
Finally, back to the original War on Terror (*rolls eyes*). I won't tell you how it ends. Ahem.
I've heard a lot of whining lately about the writer's strike, about the lack of new scripts, new shows to watch. "What'll we do? We're mid-season and we don't know what's happening to the fictitious characters whose lives we're trying to emulate!" Whaa, whaa, whaa...
"I wish there was a knob on the TV to turn up the intelligence. There's a knob called 'brightness,' but it doesn't work."
I'll tell you what to do. Pick up the remote control. See that little red button at the top? Says, "Power"...? Take back the Power! Turn off the damned TV!!! Yes, you heard it here first - it's that simple! Pick up a book and read. Pick up the phone and call someone... have an actual conversation. Light a candle and stare at the flickering flame until your mind goes to a quiet place (that's called meditating - you'd be amazed at what it can do for you). Get a deck of cards and play a game with your kids (remember me talking about what a great bonding tool that is? Yeah... beats the shit out of everyone lined up and starring, hollow-eyed, at the TV!). Take your best girl or guy to bed and take time sharing some good lovin'. (Skip the cialis - it's bad for you, and making love isn't about the strength of a guy's dick anyway. It's about the strength of the mind.)
"You've got to say, 'I'm a Human Being, Goddamnit! My life has value!' So I want you to get up now. I want all of you to get up out of your chairs. I want you to get up right now and go to the window. Open it, and stick your head out, and yell, 'I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this anymore!' I want you to get up right now, sit up, go to your windows, open them and stick your head out and yell - 'I'm as mad as hell and I'm not going to take this anymore!' Things have got to change. But first, you've gotta get mad!... You've got to say, 'I'm as mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this anymore!' Then we'll figure out what to do about the depression and the inflation and the oil crisis. But first get up out of your chairs, open the window, stick your head out, and yell, and say it: "I'M AS MAD AS HELL, AND I'M NOT GOING TO TAKE THIS ANYMORE!"