Remotely Tyrannical

I seek no complex, unattainable goal; merely homeostasis. I strive solely to keep all bodily systems stable and humming.

The goal is harmlessly modest, is it not?

 

One of the more effective tools for achieving this, it turns out, is the everyday television remote.

 

Allow me to elaborate with the help of these abbreviations…

 

PVR – personal video recorder

CC – channel change

FF – fast forward

RW – rewind

MU – mute

DEL – delete

 

I’m not entirely certain of the reason but, as it happens, I find myself trending in the direction of television intolerance. 

 

Is it that I, myself, have become more intolerant over time, or is it that television has significantly lowered its standards, choosing to allow for interminable propaganda and unambitious programming?

 

Both, perhaps.

 

Regardless of which it may be, the PVR and its remote, almost effortlessly permit me to maintain a stable body and mind.

 

I am no longer forced to endure an onslaught of propaganda, or bombardment by programming mediocrity.

 

Thanks to the PVR and the programs it records for me, there is no longer no option. Happily, the TV remote always provides a better option. 

 

Now when I encounter an irrelevant ad, or some other form of annoying programming, I have plenty of options. My favourite, by far, is FF.

What a welcome relief to be able to fast forward through commercials while watching a show that’s been taped on our digital recorder. 

 

Things I don’t need or want to know - things I don’t need or want to see? Zoom. I whisk through, and peacefully return to the program I’ve selected.

 

If FF is not an option, then MU is the next best thing. Enduring propaganda with the sound off is nothing short of wondrous.

 

The television audio and images together compel us to engage – they lock us to the screen. Not I.

 

Watching live television these days, I obsessively clutch the television remote, digits poised over the mute button. I poke it when the commercials start and poke it again when the commercials end. It makes life so much rosier.

 

Some viewers within our household appreciate the muting of ads, others less so.

 

I can save you having to listen to them. The appeals to pity, humor, responsibility, shock, good health, or charity, are all fairly predictable. Whether it’s banks, booze, betting, fast food, insurance, detergent, or pick-up trucks, their message is the same - we want your money; ASAP.

 

I tend to find most television programming and propaganda irrelevant, insulting, or boring. I am easily insulted, indignant, or stupefied by on-screen content. Who knew?

 

Dollar-starved networks may have discovered they are as likely to attract viewers with stupidity as they are to attract viewers with intelligence. I don’t doubt that there are millions of so-called viewers rooted in front of their televisions who do not demand terribly high consumption standards and, more likely, have no interest in imagining what such a standard might entail.

 

I, on the other hand, couldn’t possibly listen to one more long-winded and genuinely frightening pharmaceutical disclaimer. 

 

While I’m at it, I couldn’t possibly listen to any more of those interminable Dr. Ho ads, or claims about magic pillows and sheets, and if I can help it, I won’t have to endure another peep about that snot sucking machine.

 

News anchors with idiotic questions, or moronic facial expressions? Not a problem. CC. 

 

All types of ginormous humans tugging on underwear for various products? Thank-you, no. FF. 

 

You didn’t catch what he said to the police officer? Gotcha. RW.

 

Utterly vapid sports analysts? They never happened. FF.

 

Popping pimples? Not a chance. CC.

 

Did you see the guy hanging by his teeth? Check it out! RW.

 

Contrived co-host banter? We’re outa here! FF.

 

The intense drama of dysfunctional families? Not today. CC.

 

A reminder that the tip of a balloon resembles the human anus? All good. FF.

 

This is nowhere near the quality of program I expected? Hear hear. DEL.

 

A series of surgical scars, needles in veins, and other scenes that make me squeamish? Not to worry. FF.

 

Regardless of the infernal distraction, or destruction, it may cause to viewers, there is no limit to the amount of propaganda to which television networks insist on subjecting us. Sports leagues are among the champions.

 

The NHL cannot just let us watch a hockey game anymore. They cram virtual ads onto the boards and ice surface. Virtual ads appear on football fields and basketball courts. I resent these virtual ads and I’m reminded of my resentment each time these ads change, or move, during games, or make athletes legs and torsos disappear.

 

It can happen that I lay down my remote while watching television, but those instances are frightfully rare and tend to only occur during commercial-free movies and shows.

 

There are occasionally commercials worthy of my attention for their creativity or humor, but they are as rare as a one-shot COVID vaccine.

 

Unquestionably, I am nearing tyrant status with the remote in my hand. That truth I will own. 

 

I am selflessly looking out for the quality of life of viewers in the room, but mostly my own quality of life, and that thing I mentioned about homeostasis.

 

If you have the fortitude to attentively absorb the relentless propaganda tickling your tympanic membrane and optic nerves, more power to you.

 

I have all the power I need seething through my opposable thumb.