(Warning: rant ahead!)
I love my parents. Very much. I wish I could say that they were veterans of hardscrabble early years during the Depression, but they were actually quite middle-class. They are both now in their 80s and extremely sound of mind, both living together at home after more than 53 years of marriage.
When I gaze upon them and think of these things, my heart wells with fondness.
So how can I explain their slavish devotion to the idiot box? When they were children, there was no TV. Hey, fuck TV, there was barely even radio!
So how do you explain my mother’s robotic addiction to General Hospital and Days of Our Lives, or my father's almost “Hitler-jugend”-like militarism about Jeopardy? To the extent that on Christmas Day everything must be silent in the house at 7 p.m. so that Alex Trebek can hold sway over the populace?
Hell, I watch TV as much as anyone and I don’t want to be casting aspersions upon anyone’s viewing choices. But is it really necessary to be addicted to three different versions of “CSI”, “Law & Order” and some bibulous doctor drama such as “House”? To the exclusion of human interaction?
People like to bemoan the habits these days of our kids. God knows how many times I’ve taken hits from all segments of the population on how much my 6-year-old plays these car racing games (and other non-violent computer games; at least I watch out for that).
But has anyone taken a cursory look at what our parents do for amusement?
I rest my non-Law & Order-inspired case.
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