My Sick Mind

When I watch television, I want to see a game, laugh or learn something. Otherwise, I'm not interested. There are only a couple of dramas that I bother watching - FlashForward and Dexter . I don't have the time or energy to devote to watching regular people become celebrities, I don't care who survives, who races across the world fastest, which model is top and I find no enjoyment in watching short-order cooks scream at people. That's just me. I think we have plenty of celebrities and I see no need to create more by putting regular people on TV. I don't consider "reality" shows entertaining. Besides, when have you ever seen anyone act normal when a video camera is five feet away from them? If they want to show us doing what we really do, there should be a show called America Uses the Toilet or America Masturbates or America Picks its Nose . America Watches Television could be a reality show, but ironically I don't think anyone would watch. When i...

Thanks, HBO . I had to search a little (or a lot), but there's something called HBO Comedy, way up there on channel 305 of my cable. That's where I found the Curb Your Enthusiasm marathon that started Thrusday night and ran until 8pm on Friday. Interrupted only by sleep and a trip to the gym, I had 24 hours of Curb episodes running constantly on the TV, which was nice since there was crap on otherwise. That's the kind of mundane nonsense that makes life bearable around here during the holidays - or the ersatz advertising-induced holiday that we call Black Friday. I resisted the urge to flip on the local news, but I'm sure if I did, I would have been treated to images of goofy shoppers being trampled at the local electronics store or the local department stores that were open long before I crawled out of bed and flipped on the TV. Even though I have the DVDs perched nicely on the shelves next to the TV, it's nice to have them running on TV while somebody else c...

Imagine m y surprise. At regular intervals, at my office, we receive a packet of post cards for products that we are supposed to try, order or otherwise exami ne. Generally, I throw the packet in the trash, since I have neither purchasing authority nor interest. Today's packet, however, caught my gaze. BIG ASS FANS it proclaimed - right there on the top of the pile. A marketing tool, I suppose, to get me to open the packet. While I am not necessarily a fan of the big ass, I feel that each ass has its own charm and appeal. It depends upon the torso on which it sits (figuratively speaking) and should be judged on its own merit. One man's big ass i s another man's exquisite derrière. Upon further review, I found that the fans in question were not the noun, but the transitive verb. The third-person singular simple present fan. Like the one that blows air on you, or your big ass. Was that the point? Fans made for those with the big ass? No, dumbass. It seems that Occam's R...