03/26/11 continued....
Dear Readers ( should there actually be any ! ),
Having failed at a number of prescribed goals, such as succinctness and brevity, we must stagger on, pretending to dance as if the orchestra were still playing.
In trying to conclude 'Part One', I will mention only in passing, that, perhaps the very nadir of TeeVee had been reached on a program on MTV, in which a clothed, jock-strapped man sat against a wall while grapefruits, softballs, and other objects were as missiles thrown to hit his testicles; upon being hit, the man would yell in pain, and then laugh like a maniac. Later, during the closing credits, he chased the 'throwers' as if to attack them; That I watched this farrago for--perhaps--five minutes, can only be attributed to my complete disbelief that, a) it was actually happening, and, b) that anyone could possibly find it entertaining.
Mere TeeVee is not the culprit, for as Edward Murrow once said during a filmed documentary of the poor in America, " The fault, dear Brutus, is not in the stars, but in ourselves ".
Endless chatter by 'talking heads' abounds; and bad news is everywhere. Shocking news. Horrible news.
Is it any wonder--then--that any reasonably sane person would want to run from this onslaught? And to try to create for themselves some sort of hiding place, outfitted for comfort and designed to be reassuringly the 'same'.?
Those who drag home at days' end from jobs they too often find repellent, are too tired, too used up, too consumed to do more than pop a beer, and flop down on the sofa, kicking their shoes off at the door. They want a little comfort, a little quiet, a little pampering, and a LOT of peace and detachment from the world.
I once recall a time when there were only three channels, and all went off the air at 11:00PM. Nobody complained. Or, really cared.
Now there is--besides the computer, and the 'wild west web'--cable with 900 channels. And there's still nothing to watch.
And so, after supper has plopped out of the microwave, and the children dispensed with and the dogs let out to pee, the evening is wasted in the constant channel surfing up and down the dial.
Though they relax in it, unknowingly, they do not consider for one moment, and, as such, do not revel in it, that, in entering and shutting the front door, they are drawing a palpable line in the sand, intentionally separating themselves from the world outside; it is a retreat to the warmth of the fire in the cave at night, however dearly this 'cave' is costing them.
And so, at this post's end, I wish you all a quiet night, an untroubled sleep, and strength to face tomorrow. Goodnight all, Charles
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