The word ‘no’ or some variation of gets used a lot in our house, and rightfully so. The dog is constantly scolded for swiping pacifiers, getting under our feet or barking at ‘menacing’ neighbors. Our two-year-old decided a while ago that pushing his younger brother is the most effective method for getting the latter to stay away from his toys, and thus said two two-year-old is promptly reprimanded. By the way, that would be awesome. I’d love to just push people that bothered me. Co-workers who say dumb things. The annoying broad in front of me at Starbucks holding up the line. The fucking guy at the car wash who hovers over my windshield looking for a crack, any crack, so he can convince me to spend the next two hours on the phone with my insurance company for a free windshield.
Anyway, saying no is a word all of us repeat in some form or another, either to ourselves or those around us. When you’re a kid you don’t really get to tell other people no, but oh boy, do you get told no. I watched a lot of TV as a kid. I remember sneaking out of bed after my parents were asleep to eat chips and watch HBO in the hopes of hearing cuss words, and if I was really lucky, seeing boobs. During normal hours however, the TV was viewed in the same way as alcohol. To be enjoyed in moderation.
As I grew up and became more or less an adult, I drank up my TV, much like the kid whose parent’s scared him to death about the dangers of alcohol, only to become a raging alcoholic himself. Thankfully, we now have boxes that record the shows you want to watch if you’re not around when they first air, or if you don’t want to watch the commercials. It amazes me that this beautiful invention has yet to be elevated alongside our most fantastic of mankind creations, notables like potable water and you know, stuff that cures diseases.
The best part of my day is often sitting in bed after putting the kids down and turning on this wonder box to watch our shows. Over time I’ve noticed a recurring trend; credits that don’t end until the show is almost halfway over.
I don’t recall as a kid that the shows I watched let you know who the casting director was midway into the program. Today though it seems that right about the time House stumbles on a diagnosis thanks to a seemingly irrelevant conversation with a caste mate do those goddamn credits end.
The only theory I can come up with is people are more excited to watch a show when it begins as opposed to later in the program when they realize they’re viewing a pile of shit. If you’re still in the early stages of a show, or think you are, you’re more inclined to sit and continue watching rather than do the sensible thing and change the channel or better yet, read a fucking book. I don’t know, I’m not an advertising executive, but I do know the guys that use erectile dysfunction cures aren’t all good looking yuppies who have spare tandem bathtubs lying around their beautiful backyards, so I know these mad men ad execs are capable of deception.
I don’t like being confused with regard to how far along I am in the show. It’s unsettling. It’s like recording your voicemail and having it just go on and on before it eventually ends, finally providing your Mom the opportunity to tell you that she’s called five times this week and you haven’t called her back. “Hello, you’ve reached Ryan. Please leave me a message….I will get back to you when I can…..for you see, I am not around right now, which is why I am leaving this recorded message…..but your call will be returned”. Ok, maybe not quite like that, but kind of.
I wish I could tell my TV ‘No’ when it comes to those never ending credits, but I can’t. So for now it looks like I’ll just have to keep yelling at my dog. On the other hand, maybe there’s something to this pushing thing.