I spent a now-unaccustomed half hour watching TV yesterday. I was sick, and although Scientific, medical and anecdotal evidence would tend to suggest otherwise, I feel that baking in the EM glow is some sort of curative. I napped while waiting for food to cook, and in my altered state, staring into the face of the Modokbeast, I decided: more than any prior medium, Television exists as a self-congratulatory archive of itself. The Internet, as a medium, may be doomed if only because it has refined this quality to its quintessential form and is incapable of providing an either personal or unique experience. What, asks the aspiring showman in me, am I to do?
Being sick is worth the lost man hours, I say, if only for the waking fever dreams. Naturally, I turned off the set immediately and drifted back to troubling sleep.