Mary Ellen and I have been spending a lot of time on the couch watching our big screen TV. It’s the same crapola that was on our small screen TV, only everything is larger. Now it seems even crapolier than before.
I am easily entertained. For example, I’m a big fan of cooking shows on NPR. I listen to this woman making veal scaloppini on the radio. I can’t see the dish; I can’t smell the dish; but I drool all over the steering wheel. Last year, one of the cable channels aired a yule log burning in a fireplace around the clock at Christmastime, and I watched it for three weeks. I was so captivated that I requested NPR also put it on the radio so I could listen to the wood crackling in the car.
This month, Mary Ellen and I have enjoyed several old movies, but mostly we’ve watched music. Yes, watched music. Just like the old days of MTV, with one difference. There’s nothing to look at.
It’s pretty much a blank screen. You see, with our cable service, you get simply music playing on about 25 channels. Each station features a different genre, like R&B, hip-hop, Reggae, soul, smooth jazz, rough jazz, heavy metal, light metal, hard rock, soft rock, and sedimentary rock.
As a rule, I’m really bad at comprehending what a movie is about, so I thought the music channels would take the pressure off my wife who always has to explain the plot to me.
“Sorry, I had to go the bathroom, Mary Ellen. Did I miss anything?
“Yes, you missed the beginning of Bach’s Cello Concerto in D minor. And NO, I’m not going to hum it for you.”