It's Network

So like most pickup-driving cafe bustelo-sipping effete ivory-tower out-of-touch coastal liberals, Brian and I went several years "without TV." That expression, for the uninitiated, means we did actually own a television set, but that it was 15 inches across, and received only two channels through snow and static, which is to say we used it to watch the occasional DVD and to play video games, noses 6 inches from the screen.

A little over a year ago, I ended up having to take Vicodin for a couple weeks, and the next thing you know we had this cute little wall-mounted flat screen TV. That is not a non-sequitur. At 20+ inches it was like upgrading to a "home theater" or something! Netflixing and downloading provided the programming, but chronic pain and opioids being what they are, we soon had satellite service and a DVR. The Wire. Rome. Deadwood. Battlestar Gallactica. Robot Chicken. Doctor Who. Flight of the Conchords. And now: Torchwood. The Boondocks Season 2 (tonight!). Lucy, Daughter of the Devil. So On. So Forth. How can you resist?

Recently, we recorded "The Bionic Woman." I heard that it was made by the same people as Battlestar Gallactica. It even had Katee Sackhoff in it. We recorded "The Big Bang Theory." Brian heard a rumor it was good. And when we watched them, and I couldn't understand why they were so bad, Brian replied, "it's network," and a light went off in my head, and I remembered that television sucks.

I remembered that Vorenus and Pullo and Trixie and Starbuck and The Doctor and The Face of Bo and Bret and Jemaine are not "TV" -- they are the amazing exceptions to the TV rule, the diamonds in the dungheap, the poetry in the poo.

How could I have forgotten?

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