… otherwise titled “250 Channels, and Nothing On,” as the digits displayed on the Scientific Atlanta box that sits on top of my television climb higher and higher.
As I pass 60, 70, 80, and climb into the high three digits, I increasingly think “what’s the point?” “Who watches this?” There’s no shortage of programming that could lull elmwood into a state of slumber, for instance …
C-SPAN 3, which must appeal to only the very wonkiest of inside-the-Beltway policy wonks. Don Imus and Arianna Huffington probably don’t even consider themselves worthy of viewing “The Trip.” “And now, the third part of our series on American agricultural technical assistance to Bulgaria.”
The Golf Channel, where, if I took all the advice offered for improving my swing, would probably throw my arm out of my socket as I’m hunched over forwards, struggling to remember the thirty other things that’ll help me knock a Titlest out of the sand.
EWTN, where you’ll find a show where the Hail Mary is recited over and over again, for an hour straight. However, an urban legend in Buffalo has it that the Brown Nun show beats Survivor in the local Nielson ratings.
Bloomberg. C’mon … on a Saturday night, who is watching Bloomberg? Is there anyone peeled to one of the twenty scrolling tickers at 3:00 AM, fascinated that green bean futures are up a half cent in Chicago, or that the rand is down against the rupee? Do any of the Bloomberg babes have cult followings among investment bankers, like the Weather Channel meterologesses? “Mmmmmm … she looks so cute when she says ‘Nikkei Index’ …”
I won’t even get into NBA Classic.
It’s times like this when I’d live to see my cable system carry TSN (“Sweep! Sweep that rock, McKenzie!”), MTV India, or ART (Hatt baby!).