There are a few video interpretations of Todd Alcott’s poem, Television, out there on the internets. My favourite is by Beth Fulton.
There are a few video interpretations of Todd Alcott’s poem, Television, out there on the internets. My favourite is by Beth Fulton.
That’s so true 😉 I was in the dentist’s waiting room and subjected to some dreary programme about a bunch of half-wits who wanted to move to New Zealand, of course all their problems would disappear since all problems lie in the outer world.
For all the effort of will to try and disregard their inane blatherings I just couldn’t – I can still remember after a couple of hours the price of their houses, the inane whining of their stupid brats and the relentless peddling of consumer solutions to their inner vacuousness by buying crap out there.
All while I was reading the paper and trying not to look at the screen. But I did look at my fellow patients and they were all riveted.
Compared to that trying wait the 10 minutes of poking around to be told my teeth were OK and getting relieved of £20 for the pleasure was by far the least painful part of the experience
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I had a look at the link. Commiserations. I don’t do a lot of TV, (although morning news is on in the background every morning on weekdays till I leave for work) so wasn’t aware this programme even existed. I suppose it’s classed under reality…
Christ, just what sort of a malfunction would move someone to ask a reality TV show for assistance in deciding whether or not they should move their entire friggin’ family to a different hemisphere? Or perhaps I should ask what sort of a malfunction could move anyone to contact a reality TV show for any reason at all.
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