Forsaking Brain Cell Count
Sya of Syaffolee blogs her self-disgust for wasting brain cell count on TV watching:
“I should smack myself for watching TV again. I can feel a brain cell dying every second I watch. Then again, I got to see what all the fuss was about from television personalities that were mentioned by more media savvy bloggers. Frankly, I don't see why people are so fascinated with them except for the fact that they're all so damn annoying.”
When I was in my twenties, I felt exactly as she does about TV. I eschewed the hell out of it, and ridiculed those who watched it.
Then came my thirties, marriage, children, working hard all day, coming home, being a daddy, helping with the house and homework, getting kids ready for next schooldays, getting myself ready for next day, and, finally, getting kids to bed.
9:00 PM. Exhausted, but too early for bed. Solution? The Idiot Box. It was a savior. Never mind the loss of gray matter.
Kids are gone now, but it's become a fully ingrained pre-bedtime ritual that Jill and I continue to observe. We program the VCR for intelligent dramas so that we always have something of quality to watch when pre-bedtime rolls around. We most certainly don’t want to be imprisoned by the inanities of the usual prime-time TV fare. This means we have to cough up the extra bucks for umpteen premium cable channels—something that was out of our reach when we were in our twenties—not that we cared then, anyway.
I highly recommend this procedure to Sya and others when they reach that demanding stage of life when a little vacuous downtime becomes more precious than the cell count of their brains.
They may not think that that time will come, but, beware, it's more likely to do so than not. In the meantime, they should go right on killing their TVs.
Sya of Syaffolee blogs her self-disgust for wasting brain cell count on TV watching:
“I should smack myself for watching TV again. I can feel a brain cell dying every second I watch. Then again, I got to see what all the fuss was about from television personalities that were mentioned by more media savvy bloggers. Frankly, I don't see why people are so fascinated with them except for the fact that they're all so damn annoying.”
When I was in my twenties, I felt exactly as she does about TV. I eschewed the hell out of it, and ridiculed those who watched it.
Then came my thirties, marriage, children, working hard all day, coming home, being a daddy, helping with the house and homework, getting kids ready for next schooldays, getting myself ready for next day, and, finally, getting kids to bed.
9:00 PM. Exhausted, but too early for bed. Solution? The Idiot Box. It was a savior. Never mind the loss of gray matter.
Kids are gone now, but it's become a fully ingrained pre-bedtime ritual that Jill and I continue to observe. We program the VCR for intelligent dramas so that we always have something of quality to watch when pre-bedtime rolls around. We most certainly don’t want to be imprisoned by the inanities of the usual prime-time TV fare. This means we have to cough up the extra bucks for umpteen premium cable channels—something that was out of our reach when we were in our twenties—not that we cared then, anyway.
I highly recommend this procedure to Sya and others when they reach that demanding stage of life when a little vacuous downtime becomes more precious than the cell count of their brains.
They may not think that that time will come, but, beware, it's more likely to do so than not. In the meantime, they should go right on killing their TVs.
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