Apr 20, 2020 3 min read

I never thought the day would come, but I am officially sick of television. As a kid, I laid in front of the boob tube, elbows propped up my head as I gazed into the small screen (it was only 12 inches wide at the time). Television was my best friend back then.

It was my job to change the channels because I sat the closest.

Side note: Yes, kids. We had to change the channels manually back then. Don’t worry, there were only three or four of them. It wasn’t the strain it would be today. You could get carpal tunnel if you had to manually crank the dial these days.

But I digress, like I do. In self-isolation, in a frigid April in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, I got over my fascination with the idiot box.

Somehow, with five hundred channels, Hulu, Netflix, Amazon Prime, Disney+ and CBS Access, I can’t find anything to watch.

It’s putting a strain on my relationship with the telly. There are several irreconcilable differences.

My friends (for some unknown reason) keep recommending a documentary about a redneck with a ranch full of tigers. I’m not falling for it. If I want to see a dude with a mullet behaving badly, I’ll stand on the Northside and wait for the Kenny Chesney concert to end.

Additional side note: The only upside of COVID-19 is that there might not be a Kenny Chesney concert in 2020. I don’t know how the Pittsburgh sanitation workers will get any overtime this year.

I tried to watch the show about the spaceman who never takes off his helmet, just to see baby Yoda. The Mandalorian gives me claustrophobia. He never takes off his helmet. When I was a kid, I lasted about five seconds in my mask on Halloween.

Another additional side note: The most accurate description I’ve ever heard of “Star Wars” was from a friend who once described it as “Star Trek, but with Muppets.”

There are eight million singing competitions on now, including one where “stars” dress up like crazy baseball team mascots and sing. I use the word “stars” lightly since one of the alleged Masked Singers was Sarah Palin. I guess there isn’t a show called “Failed Vice Presidential Candidates Singing in Costumes!” There is a producer in Hollywood reading this and wondering, “Does anyone know if Tim Kaine can sing?”

I should have given up on television, back when “Ice Road Truckers” premiered. When a studio executive stood in front of a bunch of producers and said, “We want to do a show about truckers who drive in icy conditions,” it had to be the beginning of the end.

I guess television was always stupid. Once upon a time, there were shows about a nun who flies, a genie in love with an astronaut and seven castaways who couldn’t get off an island, even though a special guest star came to visit them every week.

I’m going to go read a book.