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I never got this entire TV business, I don't think.
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Suppose you're walking down the street and someone asks you to watch his bags. Does
that sound like fun to you ? Suppose someone calls and asks you if you can come
watch the kids. Hey, almost a date, right ? You go to the doctor, he tells you to
watch your weight. What he really means is, you should start eating paper shreds
for fiber and modeling clay for rare minerals or something.
If you drive like an idiot, the most likely thing you'll hear is "Hey! Watch it!".
Think about it, it's practically an insult. Watch it, shove it, sounds about the
same. Ever had anyone say it and give you the finger at the same time ?
Nothing with "watch" in it can be good, just like nothing with an apple on the
cover can be a computer. There's no way to turn the phrase to make watch a positive
word. Watch where you're going ? Watch your mouth ? Hey, mom, watch! Boooing.
So unsurprisingly, people sit down and watch TV. On TV, they show ads. And as we
all know, ads are made for either women or aliens.
There's always some jumping, dancing candy of some sort. You go to the store the
next day, there's the candy. Piled up in the shelves. Yards of it, immobile. I
thought last night it was dancing all over the fucking shelf, you think, it hopped
up and down on the floor, it dangled from the lights, what happened ? Did it die ? Is
it sick ? Well, I don't want any sick dieing candy.
It didn't die, and it's not sick or anything. Just that what you saw on TV was
alien candy, from the planet Beta Pictoris. In the store there's normal, planet
Earth candy, it doesn't dance, twirl, scream, it just sits there and decays. But on
Beta Pictoris... boy, let me tell you. It's on fire.
Then, there's an ad for a detergent that can take out blood stains. Think about it.
Taking out blood stains.
How would you get blood stains and still want to keep that shirt ? Suppose you go
to get groceries, someone robs the store and shoots you. Now, let's say the
paramedics won't shred your shirt to bits. Let's say you survive the operation.
Let's say you don't have to sell everything you own to pay the bill.
You are back home, and you're looking at the bloodied shirt, and you think to
yourself, hey, there's that detergent that can take blood stains out of a shirt.
Except...hmm... there's these 3 holes with burnt edges, like someone put out a
cigar on my chest. I guess taking the blood out won't do the shirt much good, huh.
Unless they have a formula to take out 1 inch holes with burnt edges along with the
blood.
But maybe you're not the innocent bystander, you're the mugger. You shoot some
doofus and his oozy blood splatters all over your shirt. Now why would a company
want to aid and abet by making criminal-detergent, and why would they be
advertising it on TV is beyond me, but anyway.
You run down the street and you think to yourself, hey, this shirt's ruined. No,
wait a minute, there was that ad for a detergent that can take blood out of a
shirt... Yea, except a dozen people saw me wearing it. So you get to your hideout
and burn the shirt. Because unless they have a formula to erase the memories of
material witnesses, taking the blood out won't do you much good now will it.
Or maybe you're a kid, and you do a new trick on your bike, so you fall and skin
your knees. Sure, there's blood on your pants now. But since concrete got to your
knees, there's also a hole.
So, who would want, or could use, a detergent that gets blood out of fabric ?
Then, there's an ad for some device or other women use during their period. There's
always an ad for that. Super absorbing, they say, and you watch in disbelief a pint
of bluish fluid getting sucked into a ounce of cotton. You're thinking to yourself,
hey, I'm never putting anything inside that.
Flexible, they say, and there's something like ballet or ice skating or something,
ruining it for you forever, because you won't be able to watch ballet from now on
without looking for red splotches. They've ruined ballet for you. And you were such
a fan, too.
So wait a minute, we might have solved the detergent mystery. How you can get blood
on your clothes and still want to keep them ? You need to be a woman.
When you're done watching ads, there's TV shows. No, seriously. It might not be
obvious at first, especially if you're a casual viewer, or one of those remote
controlled types. But if you sit on the same channel for half an hour to an hour
and pay attention, there's going to be a break in the adds and a show snippet might
come on. Just try it once, sit on the same channel for an hour, you're bound to
catch a show. Just don't blink.
And here's the odd part. Anywhere you see people they are mostly quiet. Take the
subway, or the bus, you will see a few dozen people sitting there and being quiet
and maybe two or three chatting. Go to a shop, there's going to be a few dozen
people looking around and a couple talking at the register. Anywhere in life, most
people are silent most of the time. It's actually an important part of
socialization, shutting the fuck up. That's why kids in school can actually get in
trouble for talking.
Yet on TV, people do nothing but talk. There's two guys yapping. Then there's a
cut, and they go to a woman talking to a stick on the roadside. Cut again, some guy
in a white coat is talking to apparently nobody in particular. Then there's a guy
in a suit with a ridiculous tie, screaming and gaping to the point you can see his
amygdalae.
And then, the icing on the cake, there's people on TV talking about what other
people said. You look around, and what you see is five people quietly staring
at a screen on which three TV people all talk at the same time about what other TV
people said about what yet more TV people said and about what they should have said
and could have said if only yet another TV person hadn't said what they said they
said when they said they should have said they said something other than what they
really said. Really.
Who gives a shit ?
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people don't, and would rather read it.
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