Alright, alright. So it's a computer monitor and not a TV. I think you get the drift.





Television………
it would appear, appeals to that little peanut of a reptile brain that we all have buried at the center of our bio-processors. The little micro-bio-processor, so to speak, developed to perform a very few, very specific functions: copulation, eating, hunting, eating, copulation, etc., etc., and the few other basic physical functions required for terrestrial life. And, while there are at least a few mildly interesting, semi-educational, emotionally-gratuitously touching, and even the infrequent yet genuinely humorous programs a person can watch nowadays, we (or at least the greater part of the “industrialized” human race) nevertheless choose, far more often than not, to watch those shows which settle, like dregs, down into that murky cesspool of LCD (network) television.
No, it’s not Liquid Crystal Diodes I’m referring to; it’s Lowest Common Denominator television (much like that trillion dollar babysitting institution in charge of turning out a steady, if helpless, parade of “industrialized” citizens, or shall we say, comrades). It not only aims at, but it is designed for, the lowest comprehensible product acceptable to the largest viewing audience. Simple as that.
Why? For the painfully simple reason that a trout can eat a minnow, but not the other way around. If a program requires even a modicum of, shall we say, intellectual horsepower and/or comprehension, then only the relative few will watch that show. But if that show (same story, albeit culturally softened—like baby food) is aimed at, say, third thru fifth grade intelligence level, well, then everyone can watch it. Not that everyone wants to watch it. Nevertheless, they will watch it, simply because they’re too lazy to put their macro-processor to work when they can lay back and just keep the lizard amused.
But I digress (an annoying habit nurtured by years of soundbite-thought-processing training, sitting in front of a glowing tube for thousands upon thousands of hours of my semi-normal childhood). As already stated, the television is, for hundreds of millions of people, if not billions, nothing more than a box of colorful flies buzzing around frantically, in an effort to keep that little processor in the middle of our craniums from losing interest.
Just imagine—if indeed you’re still capable—that your brain is a little lizard. And just imagine that your little lizard is, well, like all lizards, not exactly what we think of when we envision a pet—more like a cat with Alzheimer’s. Not overly friendly, not much going on between those perky little ears, and every time it sees you, you’re a stranger. Of course, some guys would be OK with that, misofelinous as they pretend to be, or so they say, but the rest of us wouldn’t be too keen on it. But if it’s your only pet, well, you can’t exactly just toss it out, especially if, like most cats will when given the chance, it serves a vital function: pest control.
Well, such is your reptile mind, that tiny little lizard happily doing nothing—save watching and pushing off the occasional pushup the way lizards do—in your head, biding its time and not wasting a calorie of energy in the process. Waiting for a chance to plug you into, or be plugged into by, a member of the opposite sex. Waiting for chance to snatch an unwitting fly out of the air as it buzzambles past your field of vision. Waiting for some large and/or poisonous and/or quick and/or toothy carnivore to amble by and see you out of the corner of its eye, at which time your lizard says “SCRAM! NOW!”
Like I said, a lizard may not be the cuddliest little smoocher when it comes to pets, but then again, when was the last time your Shih Tzu screamed “DUCK!” when a 95 mph curveball was on a collision course with its dog house; or “STOP!” when a 95 mph Honda Civic (full of inebriated teenage primates hypnotized by the monotonous, bowel-loosening mega bass thumping along to an onslaught of inane, unintelligible braggadocio) blows the stop sign in front of you; or “GO!GO! GO! YOU GODDAM USELESS WASTE OF CARBON AND OXYGEN, SHE’S LEAVING! GO! NOW! DON’T THINK ABOUT IT, JUST GO! TAKE HER, RAVISH HER, MAKE MAD PASSI—”
Well, actually, my inner lizard would never waste such extraneous verbiage as mad, passionate love, but you get the drift.
So, there it is, your little lizard, just hangin’ in there doin’ its job—keeping you alive, keepin’ the cobwebs off your willie—when along comes Mr. FifthAv. He understands your inner lizard, far, far better than you do, especially since most people are wholly unaware they even carry this little guardian herp-angel around. Mr. Advertising Agency understands your inner lizard so well that he is able to go Mr. Consumer Junk and say, “Nice shot! 300 yards if it was foot. Hey, CJ, how’s it going with that new Wurth-Less-itron? Sales keeping up with your projections, the projections you used to justify that stock split?”
“God-dammit! You %#$@#$% #$@@%@!! I told you we don’t talk business on the 13th hole.”
“Yeah, sorry! Forgot.”
“Shit!”
“I did, seriously. Sorry, it won’t hap—”
“I didn’t say bull shit. I said Shit. As in, lackluster would be a ridiculous overstatement.”
“So…..it’s OK to talk shop now.”
“You broke the spell, man. Have at it.”
“OK. So here’s the deal.”
“Christ. Here we go.”
After five more holes whack-fucking, and a half dozen martinis at the 19th hole, Mr. FifthAv finally convinces Mr. Consumer Junk that by inserting pictures of the Wurth-less-itron into a 30 second series of rapid-fire pictures (which, by the way, creates a very convincing illusion of physical motion) of beautifully youthful looking Eurocentric “multiculturals,” and then aiming this illusion at the rods and cones of the eyes of hundreds of millions of hypnotized Americans, Europeans, Asians, and a smattering few billion of “other,” that CJ will not only sell his entire stock of WurthLess-itrons, but that he’ll have to build factories on every continent and possibly even on a few passing comets just to keep up with demand.
“Where dhhooo I ssss…sign?” slurs CJ.
“I’ll brink uhhhh connntrackt ofer m..m..monday.”

And that’s how it came to be that 3 billion people stare at an illusion every night, instead of reading, exercising, talking, playing, writing, etc., etc. …..oh yeah, and exercising their lizards.

......more on this later. For the time being, there are bigger fish to fry.