IF corporate whores were actual whores, I'd be a crack whore

It's later than I ought to be staying up and an unpleasnt thought occurs to me; maybe I ought to watch less TV. Maybe all of those people who I disdain who talk about how bad TV is for you and how they either don't watch TV at all or limit themselves to an hour a day are actually on to something. I've attempted to justify my addiction by posturing as some sort of cultural critic. I've convinced myself that it's actually important that I'm up to speed on Grey's Anatomy and Ugly Betty, that, once in a while, I flip on Top Model to remind myself of the Great Void, that I saturate myself with the "cultural critique" of The Daily Show and The Colbert Report and South Park. I watch a little General Hospital and a bit of 90210, Without a Trace or Law and Order: SVU. I tell myself that it's not that I'm incapable of shutting the TV off until I am ready for sleep, no, it's actually important that I expose myself to the zeitgeist.
The saddest thing about it is that I know that I'm kidding myself. I have a constant need for stimulation and consumption. Television feeds this need and demands more. It tells me to smoke another joint, eat all the cookies, have a drink, melt chocolate chips in the microwave with peanut butter. Keep watching, keep eating, keep smoking that voice in the back of my head demands. Whatever you do, DO NOT MOVE FORWARD with anything productive or worthwhile. just make yourself fat and stupid and fade into the wallpaper of monotony, repetition and stasis. I let the warm flickering beams of light take over for my stream of consciousness and I suck on Comcast's sweet pipe.
Frankly, I have no idea what I would do with all of the time that I currently dedicate to television. I think that the hipsters knit although that's probably over by now. Maybe I could join a scene. I could buy a lot of black clothing with patches and become a West Philly punk kid or I could get some nipple clamps and a butt plug and hang out with fetishists or maybe get involved in a nice community garden and spend some time with some creepy vegetarians who know way too much about neighborhood politics. Or maybe I could use the time to do some of the things that I always pretend I want to do but never do like teach myself guitar and make short films and write scripts and become a jazz pianist. But, the defeatist in me knows that none of that will ever happen. I'm a stimulation junkie and one of the laziest people alive who still maintains a full time job. The multicolored, audio enhanced stimulation box is all I have and the bullshit pseudo-academic front is the only crutch is all I have to stand on. i'm too tired after 8 and a half hours bathing in the fluorewscent light, getting approval from one person to get approval from another to do anything that might someday get me out. So I flip on the box to dull the panic of stasis and I dig myself a little deeper into my hole of mediocrity. I watch to dull the ache of work and I work so I can afford to have a place to eat junk food and watch TV. I whore myself to the corporations so I can have my TV crack
Anyway, for all those concerned, I have figure out that a week from Monday, Soapnet will be airing the 2 hour series finale of 90210. It should be several months before it flips around again so be sure to get home from work early for Donna and David's wedding.