I wait, and I wait. Finally, in late August, when my cherubs release me from their exhaustive circus act to a magical world where more than one person is responsible for teaching and discipline, and where all the rules are different in the form of Public Education, the TV listings go up, the advertisements are aired, and I wait each day for the new shows patiently.
And every year I watch all the new pilot shows, and with very few exceptions (Hello, Modern Family. I MISS YOU, Mad Men.) I turn them off, one by one.
I admit, I’m choosy. Reality shows for the most part don’t interest me much. I know this drastically cuts into my choices of even established shows, but I can’t help but wince at the idea of women fighting over One Man on The Bachelor. I’m sure that those girls would have loads more fun without the guy who’s there to have his ego (and other things) stroked just a little bit more. Don’t get me started on the ongoing dramas of Jersey Shore and Real Housewives. I’ve watched these shows, and always felt a little dumber after watching them. I don’t need anything helping me destroy more brain cells – I do a fine job of it by myself, thanks. No more American Idol, Dancing with the Stars, America’s Got Talent, X Factor – it’s enough already. I never liked Star Search the first time around, when it was a thing in the 80’s.
(If you’re interested, check this list of 50 things that destroy brain cells. Unfortunately for this post, bad reality TV isn’t listed as one of the causes of brain cell death, but holy crap, I’m not even much of a drug abuser, and I’m all over this list)
Look. I know TV is for entertainment purposes. We’re not asked to think too hard about what we are feeding our eyes and our minds when we plop down on the couch for some serious vegetative action. I like hi jinks and impossible situations like everyone else, but I can’t get into vampire romance, have no love for crime scene investigation, and – it hurts me to say this – I can’t even bring myself to care about Ashton Kutcher’s partial nudity and the constant sex jokes that go along with it. I’m sorry Ashton. I love you, I really do. But I just can’t get into your show.
I guess it’s okay – who has time to watch all these new shows anyway? – my DVR is always filled to capacity with episodes of favorite programs, so I’m not having a hard time finding something worthwhile to watch. But I’d like to find something new on TV that I really love watching, to have something to fall back on those days when all I have is my program to look forward to. Sound pathetic? It is. But not as pathetic as some of the TV I’ve been watching recently. Mad Men, WHERE ARE YOU?
|You. Come back soon. I'm dying here.|