Shooting the tube
Wednesday, July 25th, 2007by Che Tibby
When my television looked like it was going to pack up last year, I did the respectable thing and sold it to someone on TradeMe. It was a 68cm behemoth that perched on a slab on the corner of the room and fed me a constant stream of bull-pucky interspersed with the occasional gem. It took two people to lift and move it. It consumed a huge amount of electricity. And I loved it to bits.
Of late though, I’m come to see that co-dependent relationship with the tube to be extremely unhealthy. Sure it keep me amused on demand. It was a companion when I was alone, and didn’t mind that I gorged myself on chips and soft drinks (with the obvious results). It didn’t mind if I had dandruff or had forgotten to shower. It didn’t mind if I dressed for any particular occasion in my trackies and an old t-shirt. And most importantly, it didn’t starve if I switched it off and went away for the weekend.
It was what I got from out of the television that was the problem. A stream of what I now recognise as the most mind-numbingly stupid drivel you can imagine. In fact, you don’t need to imagine. You can just switch the thing on and there it is.

