The most strenuous thing I have done in years has been channel
surfing.
My 1982 motorcycle injury has left me with a bad back, and it
flares up in the fall, spring and winter, basically keeping me from
participating in the javelin.
So I decided to use this column to demonstrate the only sport I
practice. I am pretty adept at changing channels. I turned on the
tube and flipped around for a while, and here’s what I
saw.
I sat back with a San Pellegrino Limonata prepared to deal with
the onslaught of mindless channels that pervade the airwaves (Read:
the NFL: Network). I’m going to separate the wheat from the
chaff (not literally, but figuratively, because I am not, contrary
to popular belief, a farmer).
11:32 p.m.: I watch NBC’s news, which is doing a story on
the “Five Second Rule.” Researchers at the University
of Illinois conducted a study on eating food that has fallen on the
floor and said that it is OK to consume fallen Funyuns. But the
kicker is, E. coli bacteria can contaminate food in less than five
seconds. This is news.
Shouldn’t Paul Moyer be reporting on the war, the economy,
or Gov.-elect Sylvester Stallone’s stance on the
controversial Gray Davis-approved measure that will allow illegal
aliens to get drivers licenses? Viewers want to know what Stallone
will do once he takes office in November.
The way I see it, the Five Second Rule is a part of natural
selection. Let the morons pick up their bundt cakes when they want.
Personally five seconds or five days don’t matter to me when
it comes to eating food from off of the floor.
11:39 p.m.: Still tuned into NBC, I watch Jay Leno for about one
minute, and during those 60 seconds, he mocks striking
Ralph’s employees and violence at Major League Baseball
games.
11:41 p.m.: I tune into CBS, to find the Letterman show. This
guy is a genius. “The oldest man turned 114 today, and he was
tossed to the ground by Pedro Martinez,” Dave said.
12 a.m.: This is historic! The first Brooke Burke “Wild
On” episode. This was the beginning of an era, which Burke
kicked off by announcing, “We are going to learn about
fiestas and siestas.”
I quickly fell asleep and woke up four hours later with the Food
Network on. Some cook was explaining how to prepare linguine alle
vongole and figured it was time to call it a night. I fell asleep
dreaming of Cabernets, Rhône varietals and then some
California wines.
I resumed watching television Wednesday, and here’s what
happened:
4:35 p.m.: I’m watching the ALCS on Fox. It is the top of
the eighth inning, and the Red Sox are up 7-6.
The pressure unbearable, I decided to take a walk. As I stepped
outside onto Kelton Avenue and zipped up my L.L. Bean windbreaker,
I inhaled the salty, fresh air and exclaimed, “Ah, it feels
like autumn.” I looked down at my feet to see the Parliament
boxes littering the sidewalk and the pavement with “Legalize
Marijuna” etched in it. I noticed leaves the color of coffee
grounds strewn on the pock-marked sidewalk.
Every now and then a sharp pain shot up my back because of my
ruptured disk ““ that damn Harley. That ride was almost as
much trouble as the women I met on that hog.
The women all had one thing in common ““ meloncholy. Each
had been wronged by the last version of me who had walked through
the door of their coffee shop, where they slung hash and poured
coffee all day.
5:16 p.m.: I get back in time to see the Red Sox win. Man, TV
has a funny way of making you think about stuff.
Miller is going to Winnipeg for a week’s vacation, and
his column will not be appearing next week. Send him a postcard at
dmiller@media.ucla.edu.