MOTHERFUCKER!

The two-year spree is over! The fucking cable company got wise to the fact that they've been keeping me stocked with meaningless entertainment for two years for free.

They cut me off. I'm done, Bertha. Done like fucking dinner.

Quel timing, Batman! I'm unemployed! Now I've been left with the stupid goddamned channel that shows daytime "court television," like Judge Judy and that bad-ass black dude and that new feisty bitch on People's Court. It's white trash-black trash TV, man.

And that's all I get now. I don't even get any Canadian television. Oh, man, this is gonna hurt.

But at least there's still Letterman. Who's just begun a two-week hiatus. Nice!

I've done this before, people. I've lived without television off and on for about five years, if not more. I'm experienced. I used to read books. I know how to turn a page. I even know how to fold a corner.

I have many books that require reading. I might develop intellect again. Who knows.

I was pretty pissed off, though. Oprah had just given a woman a house. This woman adopts six kids so they won't get broken up when their junkie parents go to jail, and she's a barista at Starbucks, raising NINE kids, and Oprah gives her a swank in-the-burbs-now-honey house, and BLAMMO. Cable dies.

Fucking timing. I'm working up a sniffly come-on-smile-on-your-brother-and-love-one-another-right-now set of tears and boom. "Oh, technical difficulties..." and I turn it off, on, and realize that the only channels left are the ones that you get when you're a cable-less person.

Denied, baby. Oh, so denied.

Yeah, that's all right. I'm stubborn. Fuck that shit. I got books, dude. I'm gonna get me some edu-mah-catin', bro.

I feel like I just stood up at a 12-Step night and done the whole, "Hi, I'm Steff. I'm an addict. I've had a remote control up my ass now for the better part of three and a half years."

Whew. Liberated. On the road to a brighter, happier Steff. Yeah, that's it. I'll talk myself down from the ledge. My god. What book do I read next? A comedy? Maybe a little Communism? I do have that commemorative edition of The Communist Manifesto. Fiction, there's always a great smart novel to be had in the bowels of my bookshelves.'''

I do confess... I've felt a little shackled by ADHD of late. I feel like I can't think anything through. Maybe not having TV in the equation will make it a little less all-penetrating.

My god. Think of the work I might get done! Imagine the blogging I might do when not consumed by the insane art of mind-suckage known as Daytime Television. Whew. Unthinkable!

Oh, this is too much. I need a drink.

**It occurs to me this will be good for delving into music, too. Bad for piracy, good for me.