It was Sunday, while watching the Grammys with my common-law
wife, Christy, that I made my latest resolution.
“That’s it,” I said, “I’m sick and
tired of this garbage. Network TV and I are through.”
Christy wasn’t so quick to agree with this judgement.
“The masses love Norah Jones,” she said. “Why
don’t you?”
“No love child of Ravi Shankar will ever be talented
enough to keep me entertained.”
“What about hanging on for the Simon and Garfunkel
reunion?” she asked, pleading. “You love “˜The
Sound of Silence.'”
“Bah!” I snorted, flinging my empty margarita glass
at the Trinitron. “I can get it on MP3. Turn this garbage
off!”
So it’s been four solid days without The Big Four, and I
even threw in the WB and UPN just to make it interesting. Not even
my regular “Simpsons” fix has lured me back. Of course,
Christy took it better than I did; she focused on her Pilates and
Yoga. I got jittery on black coffee and cigarettes and read through
all my old Hemingway paperbacks.
After the proper two day cooling off period, I decided to turn
the Trinitron back on, making sure to keep my distance from those
damned networks. What I discovered, while weaving through channels
20-40 on my basic cable, was pure gold.
Amid the numerous telenovelas and nature programs, was channel
38 ““ KDOC-TV.
There was a commercial on it proclaiming “20 Years of
Independence,” showing viewers its wares. Where else could I
catch reruns of “The Addams Family” and “The
Munsters,” or even “Perry Mason” and
“Knight Rider”?
Hot damn, I thought, this is the mother lode.
Christy even wandered in, carrying her yoga mat under her
arm.
“What is this?” she asked.
“I don’t know, but I think it’s the closest
either of us will ever get to staring at the face of
God.”
I was right, like I always am, in my own way. Even the
commercials were great. And by great, I mean horrible. There was no
flashy subliminal product bombardment. I didn’t watch a cola
commercial mumbling, “For real real real, it’s really
really real.” Instead, it was all local businesses, barely
making it in the world. Or public service announcements on stuff
like the dangers of drunk driving. I became elated. I felt
cleansed.
But the crown jewel of KDOC has got to be “Hot Seat with
Wally George,” a talk show that must have at one time
dominated the air waves, now reduced to a perpetual series of
“best of” clips. All the mullets and sunglasses in the
studio audience made me guess this had to be from sometime during
the age of Reagan. On the show George spends most of his time
making conservative fear-induced psychobabble that borders on
paranoia. George’s rants were always met with cheers, and his
guests with jeers, and I didn’t agree with anything the man
said, but I soon realized it was the last outpost of complete
honesty on all of television.
Apparently George is still alive, because every once in a while
he showed up, looking like a toothless, unmasked Darth Vader with a
big blonde wig, selling ad time for local businesses. He wears an
American flag tie and an American flag sits behind him in the
studio.
The night before last he began the clip show with a call to arms
against Iraq, North Korea and the evil ways of Osama bin Laden. He
even went so far as to say, “These threats need to be
destroyed “¦ because this show is prerecorded, I do not know
that as we speak we may be at war “¦ but these problems need
to be obliterated, and we can’t wait for something to happen
to us to do it.”
Who needs CNN.com as long as Wally George has a soap box.
I’d get all of my important and necessary news from him.
The Trinitron has been tuned into KDOC for two straight days,
and I have been awake for every glorious moment. I am writing from
from my fortified apartment in Westwood, while guarding the channel
clicker with extreme prejudice, armed only with an electric
egg-beater and a broken umbrella. Christy has locked herself in my
bedroom, telling me she’s staying in there until I
“figure (my) shit out.”
But God help anyone who barges through that front door telling
me to turn it down.