teevee free

Me personally, I have a number of vices, not all of which i care to discuss – much less blog about – in public. One of my many vices is my appreciation of the Television Arts. My appreciation is – though not limitless – quite deep. I enjoy many schools of the teevee arts, from the classic nature documentary, to the standard cable news show, to the more modern realty-ish program, to the occasional sitcom or adult cartoon, to – of course – the professional sporting event, to … well, you get the idea.

I am not an idle spectator of the boob tube. I am an active watcher – mostly thanks to the wonders of the DVR. Thus, rare is the day when I actually a) flip through the channels or b) watch commercials. How do I manage this? By recording teevee shows before I watch them. Then when I do watch, I get to skip the filler and consume the meat.

Consuming teevee this way has the side-effect of decreasing the variety of programs I watch, but ensuring deeper consumption of those programs I do.

Despite my technical mastery of the DVR and judicious consumption of programming, I still felt it undeniable that too much of my time was being spent in front of my dear flickering blue screen and Dolby-blessed speakers. So it was early this year that I pronounced my intention to disconnect from my satellite-fed dope, and kick the teevee habit. Nearly three months later, I have actually done the deed, and have begun my new, TeeVee-Free Lifestyle.

It is a big thing, going from ‘America’s Top 150′ channels to Rural Afghanistan Radio, or an approximation thereof. The point of my decision is to take back the time and energy I’d been devoting to following the characters on Fox, CBS, MTV & HBO, and give it instead to my life’s other pursuits: writing, designing, drawing, filming, running, walking, sleeping, reading and all the rest. It is, also, a gesture from which I draw motivation to expend energy on these other activities.

Lastly – but equally important – is my desire to disengage from the poisonous messages incessantly burnt into our consciousness when we consume teevee: the allures of fame, beauty, youth, perfect skin, perfect bodies, flawless sleep, rock-hard penises, giant breasts, plastic surgery, and perfect lawns; or the fear of fear: terrorists, murder, corruption, drug addicts, health risks, illness, the Pope, pundits, and going bald.

The ability of the teevee to propagate such mendacity seems infinite, and indeed strikes fear in this man’s heart. Why is it, I wonder, that we are so easily lured into a dark room, convinced we are living by watching others, as they live their lives, embark on adventures, engage in sexual relations, or chase their dreams. Meanwhile, we slump deeper into our own corners of the world, our bodies melting slowly into the furniture, our own dreams drifting further, deep into the recesses of our memories. Soon they will be forgotten or dead from atrophy, replaced by internalized evils of the teevee’s world, by the unreachable fantasy lives of Hefner and his three bimbos, Tony and his murdering gang, or Lauren’s famous and beautiful “friends”.

And so it ends, my teevee life. And back to my real life, I go.