Allow me to give you some background on what has been going on lately. I am now in the middle of my extremely short summer break, and I intend to fill it with a lot of jamming with my brother, drinking, cruising, and hunting. And in between all of that, I intend to do nothing except lie down with the remote control in one hand and my other hand in a bag of popcorn (or maybe a bag of chichacorn, because it has a double purpose as pretty good pulutan). Down in the metropolis, it was a unanimous decision among my siblings and I to not subscribe to cable television for obvious reasons. To paint the picture more clearly, if we had cable when I first started university, I would be repeating first year as I speak. In the mountain home however, cable television and cable consumption is easy and regular, a part of the daily diet. It is for this and other reasons that I have made it official: that for the remaining week or so of summer, my occupation is no longer "university student"; instead, I have now graduated to "overly lethargic sloth." Oh, and "writer".
In between all of my activities and productive endeavors this summer is cable television. Some people choose smack; some choose dope, others choose rock. All I need is the television (and I must stress CABLE TELEVISION), a bottle of Coca-Cola, and an optional extra kilo of the finest Ilocano chichacorn to keep me drugged for some time. I have even moved out of my bedroom and now inhabit the living room area because the TV is there. I will not admit to it entirely, but I could consider myself a bit of a cable TV junkie.
In discovering myself as a bit of a TV-aholic, I have uncovered one very frightening quality that television possesses. And frightening as it may be, I know for a fact that I am going to spend the rest of this day and summer break watching cable television. It is not the addiction, nor the fact that "TV turns your brain into a squishy mush." No, you are still totally whole and you can switch it off any time you want (or so you say you can). All the little stories about cable television could be true, but here’s the real scoop my friends: Television has the speed and the power to turn anyone into a zombie. And I’m not saying just any zombie man; I’m saying a zombie of the TV, a tool of the "tube", a puppet of its power (button).
The steps to my theory are as follows: First, you become very acquainted with the remote control. The beams from the television enter your optical nerves and into your brain taking control of the muscles in your hand. Before you know it, you need not look directly at the remote control to switch through channels. Second, after taking control of your hand, the television targets nerves in your brain which control skeletal muscles in your back, legs and neck, making you lie down and get a pillow and blankets; anesthetizing you. Third: the different programs, the various channels, they take complete control of your brain. Because of verisimilitude and the suspension of disbelief, you sympathize with everything that goes on inside the world of the television. Lastly, you become completely absorbed into the television world. Mentally, you cannot distinguish the difference between the real world and the TV world. Physically, you stay up all night and day watching TV, flipping through the channels trying in vain to identify which world it is you belong in (whether it is among the Flintstones, the Jetsons, the Klingons, or the TV evangelists), and if it all really is real. Before you know it, you could be buying the newest in abdominal exercise machines because the woman host with the perfect abs looks like "wife material" to you already. It does not take very long for your mind and your body to assimilate with the realm of the television.
I am not totally bashing cable television with this piece, but it’s just that I had an epiphany at about 4:20 a.m. while watching TV. I am truly a staunch defender of cable television and its subliminal effects, but I realized that I must balance it out somehow. So later, before I pop some microwaveable popcorn and re-attach that mechanical/electrical appendage to my palm, I’ll do some more organic things. I’ll play some guitar, take a stroll in the backyard, and then maybe flip through the pages of Camus and ponder the existential nature of some works of literature. Maybe.
Or, all this could just prove that I’m crazy. I wonder what’s on right now?