2008 Writing D e s e r t E x p o s u r e
September
2008
The Sound of Silence
Striking a blow against the omnipresent boob tube.
I am a man of infinite patience and boundless tolerance, but there are times when even a sainted soul like mine is tested to its limits and tempted to lay waste to certain problems via the careful application of a flamethrower or a mighty large mallet. Today's thinking man, however, is quick to note that a whole raft of laws and rules exists against the indiscriminate use of such heavy-handed problem-solving techniques, especially when they involve wholesale burning or smashing. Thus I am always on the lookout for more subtle and acceptable means of enacting my own particular flavor of frontier justice. Now, thanks to a wonderful company called Cornfield Electronics, I have found a spectacularly anarchic device for a very specific problem that afflicts most Americans: the omnipresent and unnecessary public television.
Let me be perfectly clear right up front about the importance of television in the Land of Lightcap: It ranks somewhere slightly above dragging smelly globs of congealed black furballs out of the sink drain, but far below having a crazed pack of rabid weasels biting my face. Sometimes, when exposed to excessive amounts of television, I can physically feel my brain moving toward the bright light.
I know that television can serve some positive purposes, but I am hard pressed to find much use for a TV beyond as a shelf for my after-dinner cocktail. For the most part, television programming is dictated by focus groups one can only surmise are composed almost entirely of overly medicated chimpanzees and six-year old boys with ADD. I recognize the entertainment needs of these chimps and youngsters are important, as it keeps them off the streets, but I have about much use for the boob tube as I do an inflatable dartboard.
Thus, I have a philosophical bone to pick with public venues where televisions are cynically installed to placate herds of people where they gather. Televisions are strategically placed at each bend of the endless lines at Disneyland, soothing the impatient masses and removing the spirit of rebellion from the queue. Doctors' offices feature televisions that chatter on all day, distracting the dead and dying who are drawing what could well be their last few breaths on the planet and making the healthy people wish they were next in line for the sweet release of death. Worst of all, restaurants take special pride in placing televisions where every single one of their patrons can add value to their gastronomical experience through the wonder of audiovisual enhancement.
When I'm eating chow in a restaurant, I am generally in the company of some form of companion. Having a companion with you at the table places a social obligation upon all parties present to express some level of interest in the other, even if it is totally feigned. When the distractive nature of a television is introduced into the environment, palaver becomes a mite strained. The damned things are designed to catch your eye, and to steal your attention away. If you had a petulant child at your table doing the same thing, you would discipline the thing, so why tolerate impertinent televisions? Good news, pilgrim: You no longer have to.
I visited a subversive website at www.TVBGONE.com and read up on a magical little device that will doubtless bring harmony to the dining halls and watering holes of America. Cornfield Electronics markets this nifty gadget, the size of a car-alarm remote, which finds the frequency of pert-near any television set sold in this nation. This powerful little fob commandeers the innocent circuits, allowing the user to turn the TV off. Just like a remote control at home, point the TVBGONE in the general direction of the offending idiot box, press a button, and a few moments later the device sniffs out the proper frequency and renders the tube as dead as a southbound jackrabbit in a northbound lane. Once the offending tube has been silenced, you are free to re-engage your companion in dinner conversation without distraction.
Far from being a social scientist, I have nonetheless observed some interesting reactions by arbitrarily deactivating public televisions. It is important to use the gadget discreetly, as it seems there are people who actually enjoy watching the TV at mealtime and take offense at any sudden separation from its soothing powers. After I mastered the art of the clandestine aiming process, I began killing public televisions at one particular eatery that makes stupendously good chicken tacos but insists on hanging TV sets from every corner. The first time I did it, the restaurant manager quickly noticed the black screen and grew alarmed. After tapping and smacking and finding his own remote, he restored life to it. When he turned to put up the remote, the TVBGONE worked its magic again, and he was visibly shaken by the return of the empty screen when he turned around. I was amused greatly.
A few weeks later, however, I was in a Chilibees or Appletuesdays or whatever in hell they call the brass-bar-and-hanging-ivy neighborhood pub restaurant concept presently. There are more televisions in this one restaurant than there are at the local Best Buy store, so I wielded my new remote like a digital scythe of infrared justice and reduced several thousand dollars' worth of big-screen plasma screens to large, silent monoliths. But I failed to note the intensity of the sporting match that was being broadcast and misjudged how important the event was to the other patrons. It seems that deactivating public televisions when there is a heated game with equally heated fans around is a very good way to get your ass placed into a hat and handed back to you. Many of my fellow restaurant patrons did not share my enthusiasm for a television-free eating experience, so I sheepishly slipped the TVBGONE back into my pocket.
Make no mistake: I have not accepted defeat in my crusade. I will continue to rage against the machines, especially when they are displaying pointless images of distractive material when I am trying to enjoy a gourmet plate of gristly beefsteak and enchiladas with the company of a boon companion at the table. But it is critical not to overestimate the importance of the telly to an entire generation of wunderkinds that grew up eating dinner under a soft cathode glow. With the help of my handy-dandy TVBGONE, I hope to illuminate the masses and strike a blow for non-electronic civility at the dinner table. With your help, and that of Cornfield Electronics, we can do it — together!