I don’t watch much television. In fact, I don’t even have cable teevee (haven’t since 1997), which apparently is an unAmerican thing to do. (In fact, two G-men were here last night grilling me about who won this year’s American Idol. I was unable to answer. But the charges of conspiracy were dropped when I showed them that I had Secret Agent in my DVD collection.)

But when talking to some folks yesterday, I was surprised to learn that basic cable today costs $55 a month. Basic cable. Not your snazzy HBO or Skinemax. Not even the Playboy Channel. Apparently, if you want to become an HGTV junkie in our great land, contemplating the landscaping options for the palatial home you’ll never own, it’s going to cost you. As much as a really solid evening out for two.

Fifty-five George Washingtons! That’s more than my DSL bill. That’s more than my phone bill. That’s more than my electric bill. That’s six movies at a theatre. That’s two hardbacks. And if you were to save that over the course of the year, that would be $660.

What kills me is that Ray Bradbury couldn’t have been more on the money with his short story, “The Pedestrian,” where a man was arrested simply for taking a stroll while the other obedient citizens were loving their television. Today, television-addicted Americans are arrested for having the temerity to take photos of a bridge or a subway — in other words, they are being reprimanded for documenting the world that they live in.

It is reported that, on average, Americans watch more than 4 hours a day. So let’s say that Joe Sixpack goes to work an eight hour day, and that he gets eight hours of sleep. Of the remaining eight hours he has to devote to leisure, let’s say that one hour is devoted to commuting, another hour is perhaps devoted to eating and preparing his meals, and a good half of that time involves getting hooked into the new fire. Because they’ll need something to talk about around the office water cooler. Which leaves two hours for showering, preparing for work, catching up with friends, getting drunk, and fucking like minks to make the time go by faster. Never mind that at four hours a day, a 65 year old will have spent nine years of her life in front of the tube.

Granted, we can all agree that everyone is entitled to slack time, to escapism, and to catching a second wind. But we should be extremely concerned with these statistics. Because if Joe Sixpack devoted that time to reading a book, then he might become self-taught in the machinations of the world. Or he might discover the many ways in which he’s being screwed over. Or he could volunteer somewhere and help someone in need.

In his book, The Working Poor: Invisible in America, Robert Shipler suggests, “Cable is no longer considered a luxury by low-income families that pinch and sacrifice to have it. So much of modern American culture now comes through television that the poor would be further marginalized without the broad access that cable provides. Besides, it’s relatively cheap entertainment.”

Right. Because we all know that Jane Sixpack is going out of her way to watch a hard-hitting documentary on the disparity between the rich and the poor. We all know that Jane Sixpack is pining for the art house film instead of Meet the Fockers. We all know that Jane is getting the bejesus scared out of her watching FOX News.

Television is worse than comfort food. It is the uncontrolled wilderbeast that encourages the passive. It reinforces the troubling notion that life should be easy and effortless. It suggests to the common people that if they are not living in glamorous excess (rather than the glamour that comes from within one’s own integrity) that they are failures.

Shipler should be ashamed of himself for letting televison off too easily in his otherwise fine book. It is interesting that despite his faithful reporting and his determination to explore the issue from all sides, one won’t find either “books” or “libraries” in his index.

The Scotsman: “It is believed Roly Keating, the controller of BBC2, and Jana Bennett, the director of television, are among those who have been given security guard protection. “

Dear FCC:

Since three people decide the fate over what is indecent on American television, I figured that my viewpoint counted for just as much. Plus, since this nation has spiraled into a financial abyss (and could use some cash), I thought you might want to investigate the following indecent things that I see on television every day. I am, to put it bluntly, quite mortified by what passes for “entertainment” these days. I will need therapy for years. Perhaps you may want to send me a finder’s fee to cover this.

Regardless, what follows are some of the many indecent things I have unearthed for your beautifully authoritarian eyes:

• There are commercials that try to convince me to give them money! They use scantily clad models and people who offer false smiles to convince me that their goods (which are usually bad for me) are fun and harmless. They set down good rock songs to commercials and take away the value of great music I grew up listening. INDECENT!
• There is a boorish man named Bill O’Reilly who tells other people to shut up! He is the rudest person I have ever seen on television. And what’s more, I understand that he actually gropes people who work on his show. INDECENT!
• There is a purported “news” network called FOX News. Have you seen it? They spin stories based off of half-truths and cater to spiteful impulses. They never get all sides of the story and scare the bejesus out of me with their martial theme music and extremely frightening news graphics. INDECENT!
• There is a network called WB that shows African-American people in stereotypical roles. I have met and befriended many African-Americans, but I have never seen them eat nearly as much fried chicken as they do the WB Network. Furthermore, on all networks, African-Americans are only cast as the Lovable Sidekick or the Badass Cop. Where are the African-American lawyers and professors? This is clearly racist and INDECENT!
• There is clearly not enough sex on television. Where are the shows devoted to hours of bobbing breasts and naked people thrusting in slow motion? Don’t people on television jerk off? To deny such basic human impulses while simultaneously perpetuating the employment of such anti-actors as James Spader and Mark Harmon is INDECENT!

I trust that you will fine each and every network that carries out these indecent practices. The future of this clean nation depends upon it!

Very truly yours,

Edward Champion

Last night, millions of Americans decided that they needed an emotional experience. The only way, of course, to feel the pitter-pattering within their collective hearts was not to set foot outside their homes and get to know their fellow neighbors, but to turn on their televisions and watch the final episode of Friends. There, they would experience cardboard cutouts who would illuminate and enrich them. Would Ross and Rachel get back together and have all sorts of crazy sex on camera right before a commercial break? And, most importantly, would we ever see a character in the Friends universe who was not shallow, Caucasian and attractive?

Having seen maybe ten minutes of one episode of Friends and not having experienced a single magical moment of this amazing television program since, I feel as if I’m thoroughly qualified to provide you with speculation on what happened last night.

The big question was whether Ross and Rachel got back together. Since this was in fact the final episode, this was a plot development as smoothly calculated as a Tic-Tac-Toe victory. But, yes, Ross not only got Rachel back, but had another character named Phoebe drive him to the airport. At the airport, shortly after walking past a dark-skinned extra being frisked by airport security, Ross told Rachel that he would be voting for George Bush in November and that he wanted her to do the same. Rachel told Ross that this was the most romantic thing that any guy had ever said to her and, after some witty banter about having freedom fries for lunch, Rachel did not get on her plane to Paris. Ross and Rachel decided that they would move to upstate New York and hire a few Spanish-speaking maids to use as human furniture.

The six New York flatmates handed in the keys to their apartments and collectively beat their landlord up. Not only did they receive their security deposit immediately, but they also received a signed waiver stipulating that the landlord would never bring the assault charge to a court of law.

Chandler revealed to Monica that he had a serious drinking problem and that he had taken the twins to the Pussycat Theatre from time to time for some quality pornographic entertainment. Monica understood and decided that it would be best if their young family moved to suburbia, where they would be better able to hide their problems from their neighbors and the television public.

Phoebe told Joey that she would be more than happy to have 2.2 children and be “a good wife.” She resolved to be put in her place, clean and cook for Joey, and agreed that she would never have a partial birth abortion.

Joey, meanwhile, promised that he wouldn’t develop as a character any further. He had a spinoff series to pursue and, thus, it was essential to color himself within the lines. We will report any developments as they come in.