Drug of the Nation

I turned off my TV three months ago and I haven’t turned it back on since.

static.gifIt was mostly due to laziness. I moved the TV into H8’s room so he could pursue his Playstation and related noise-making activities in the privacy of his own space, and leave me in peace to sit on the sofa and fret about girls not liking me, well at least not the right ones.

And then, when H8 went back to his mum’s, I noticed a strange calm had descended upon the flat. It took a while to realise that it was due to the large empty space when the noise box used to sit. Suddenly the room had a harmony and balance and so I put a few plastic flowers in the corner and left it at that.

no_tv.JPGGradually I realised that I didn’t miss the thing. All it ever did was make me angry and tired. 30 minutes in front of the box always left me as drained as if I had just consumed an entire Swedish pizza. Doing some other activity upon coming home – baking, listening to music, shagging – actually gave me energy – the TV just took it away.

So now I have discovered that I have a LOT of free time. Admittedly I fill most of this time by staring at a different kind of screen, but I also play my guitar more often, listen to the music I have downloaded, read books, and pedal myself into a sweaty frenzy on my beloved exercise bike (while fretting about girls who don’t like me, well at least not the right ones).

TV exists for one simple reason – to sell you stuff you don’t need and don’t need to know about. Either it’s the mindless products they blare at you, or else the programs themselves, in the form of lifestyles, clothes, DVD boxes, ribbed condoms or Happy Meals.

And by pulling that particular drip out of my arm I have reduced my exposure to advertising by 50% and my exposure to idiots and wankers by about 95%.

Now even my colleagues at work have caught on and have stopped asking me questions beginning with the words: “Did you happen to see”. And that’s kind of nice too.

Help and support for addicts can be found here and here.

/ paddy

The Kluft of Doom

Right, there’s this lady in Sweden, see. Her name’s Carolina Klüft. She’s a normal lady in many ways, except she is particularly good at running, jumping and throwing stuff. And for this reason, we have to read about her every damned day in the newspapers.

This is good in one way as it gives me a chance to recycle my “Klüft, the Queen of Darkness” photo, where Ms. Klüft is caught on camera while throwing a Curse of Suppurating Agony at a nearby reporter, who I’m sure thoroughly deserved it.

Figure 1: The eye, the eye!

Now I never understood why it is so amazing when a sports person becomes good at their particular silly game. It’s all they do, isn’t it? Day after day, training, running, eating well, massage and so on. Why, for just doing their job, are they suddenly fucking heroes? Somebody has to win the stupid game, don’t they?

So I am sick of hearing about the expolits of Ms. Klüft. For fuck’s sake, can’t the newspapers entertain us with stories of animals stuck in (and subsequently rescued from) pipes, or glaciers slipping into the sea, or large mammals becoming extinct. If I see one more sports “story” served up as “news” I may just have to puke.

Although I’m sure Countess Klüft has a few evil spells up her sleeve that will help me to accomplish that in a spectacularly grizzly manner…

/ paddy