I would like to blame my long absence from The Owl on something exotic, like a pilgrimage to Tibet, a trip to Italy, or even some crippling illness, but it is due to something much more sinister… Cable television!

Back in March, my dad decided to buy us a year of cable. I told him I wouldn’t get a thing done if that were to happen, but he insisted (the service included phone and internet as well). Before that I relied on my converter box for free programming, although the fact that Dad paid a year in advance makes cable “free” for me for a year.

I figure I spend more than 50% of my viewing time watching commercials, and I enjoy and loathe these things. I do have some favorite television commercials that have grown on me. For instance, the anti-drunk driving campaign with the guys (apparently women don’t drive drunk) tooling around clumsily in automobiles filled up with beer, martinis, and, my favorite, the guy sitting in his sports car, up to his neck in Merlot. The expression on his face is priceless – as is the hillbilly in the pick-up truck filled with what I assume is Busch beer.

The commercial for some digestive aid where the lady is in an elevator explaining how the product helps your system “move” is funny.  She appoints various bodily functions (one being constipation) to her fellow elevator occupants.

“Why am I constipation”, the guy asks out loud.

There are also commercials that I can’t sit through any longer. The AT&T commercial where they have to include a disclaimer at the end that AT&T has no affiliation with the “artist” Cristo or Jean Claude because these folks are draping orange fabric over America curdles my milk at the first two notes of Nick Drake’s acoustic guitar. Why marketing firms have made much to do over Nick Drake (an obscure Folk/Pop musician of the late 60’s who overdosed on anti-depressants) is beyond me. I never took anything away from his work other than maybe a strong desire to ingest a large amount of some medication myself.

I am also tired of the nasal spray commercial where these paramilitary guys about two-inches tall are commandeering the bottle and swinging “to the nose” of some woman suffering from congestion.

There are a lot of infomercials for exercise equipment. One common tool is the use of the super-imposed CG skeleton on top of a woman’s silhouette performing some repetitive humping motion for twenty minutes. If you really want a good laugh check out the commercial for the “Shake Weight” (for men). It is reminiscent of the Mad T.V. skit where this group of guys all have the flashlights that you shake to generate power. You just have to see this thing to believe it.

The programming I find myself glued to is mostly all news. There are some movies that I watch, but the choice is mighty thin when you have basic cable. I never knew that Pauly Shore movies or Rambo III were so popular. Every once in a while Sundance or AMC will show some pretty good flicks, although I know “good” is mighty subjective. I enjoy watching David Lynch films and because most people can’t stomach them I assume that is the reason for their frequent appearance on cable.

This past 4th of July weekend was pissed away sitting for nearly 24 hours (lots of commercials, remember) watching Spike TV’s “Force of July Star Wars Marathon”. All six films! I got up to go back to work after that fiasco and felt like I had cancer for a week afterward.There should really be a coin slot in the cable box where you have to plug in 50 cents every ten minutes or so to prevent cable abuse.

Activities that I used to find therapeutic like painting, cooking, or bathing have taken a back seat to out and out sloth now. Please – If anyone has any sort of 12-step program or ideas to help me get out of this funk please comment and let me know.