How many hours is it that the stats say the TV blares and bloviates in the average American home?
For three mornings, I’ve dressed in the dark and slipped out of our motel room to the lobby with my laptop while Ann sleeps. I have the large breakfast nook all to myself for the first two hours and it seems like at the end of that, I should have finished a thought.
But the TV in the corner stays on 24-7. Blah blah blah ab-buster, blah blah God wants you rich blahblah Ice Cream Sandwich PopTarts! This morning, I turned the One Eyed Brain Sucker off until the dweeb in charge flicks it back on and everybody’s ability to think-converse-create-remember-process drops 75%.
Wasn’t it Noreiga that they drove from his last hideout by playing obnoxious music (I’m thinking Osmonds or Manilow but I could be wrong)? They could have gotten results faster just playing this wide-screen TV from the Wingate hotel lobby–Weapons of Mass Cacophony, new episodes coming this fall.
Yes, we’re sheltered and don’t get out much. I’m remembering why there’s no place like home. Slow is beautiful.ï»¿