Thursday, March 03, 2005

liar, liar, pants on fire

Weeell... okay I lied, but only a little. I have a TV. But it doesn't have any channels, so it doesn't count.

The unattractive black box is only for watching DVDs (love movies so passionately) and is tucked behind my living room door under a giant wildebeest head where it doesn't interrupt my shui.

It's always seemed very strange to me that the American household is always arranged for the best vantage to this inanimate box. It's like the new altar.

"Oh greatest of the mass media, thank you for elevating emotion, reducing thought and stifling imagination. Thank you for artificiality of quick solutions and for the insidious manipulation of human desires for commercial purposes. This bowl of lukewarm tapioca represents my brain. I offer it in humble sacrifice. Bestow thy flickering light forever." --Calvin and Hobbes.

Anyway, (steps down from soapbox) about the Internet. Are you allowed to comment on corporate cretindom and name names? I'm not sure about the legal implications on that one, so I'll give you a hint: "ding dong" and "not north, but ___." Don't use them, they suck ass.

I was on the phone with those incompetent mother scratchers every day for two weeks, with this big vein standing out in my forehead and blood singing in my ears. At one point, I CRIED and hurled my cell phone across the room and dented my headboard... and I am neither weepy nor prone to hysterics. Oh, and you just try having a frustration meltdown without swearing.

But why do you have to get cable AND internet? Why can't you just have internet without selling your soul to ABC and Fox? Now I will have no use for family, love or cameraderie. It's just me and Agent Vaughn and some pissant Bachelor. FYI, If I ever come in blabbing about reality TV, DO NOT RESUSCITATE! (wrings hands) I see it all happening, and I am powerless to stop it.

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