Ode to the Boob Tube

Dear Television and Tivo,

O, how I miss you.  Let me count the ways.

(1)  I used to daydream about seeing you at the end of the day.  After I had wrangled all the rugrats into their respective pens, I would collapse onto our tattered, spattered, crusty couch and feel as if I was falling into your open arms.  It was always at that moment that I could look back and congratulate myself on surviving another 24 hours.  But now?  That relief never comes.  No, I don't even bother flipping through the 212 channels of inferior programming (much of which is not in English, and what is in English, dates from the Reagan era), and my bedside book seems wholly uninterested in winning my affections.  Now, the days have no end and no beginning, and I never have a clue as to what day of the week it is.  Without you, I am space junk floating aimlessly in the Milky Way.

(2)  I miss my friends, whom I could only see through your eyes.  Whoopi, Joy, even Sherri because her wigs fascinated me (but no NOT Elisabeth or Barbara); Bill Maher; Kathy Griffin; the bimbos from The Hills; Vince, Eric, Drama, Turtle, and Ari; Tyra; Jim and Pam; Paul F. Thompkins; even Supernanny, where are you when I need you?  Please tell them all that I send my love and would much rather spend my time with them than with Pam Anderson or Ellen DeGeneres circa 1994.  (Reassure them that I am not completely devoid of company, however: Keith Olberman and Rachel Maddow run on a loop here, not sure why but I dare not call attention to it in case it's a programming error.)

(3)  I miss Tivo.  Lord, how I miss Tivo.  I miss knowing that there would always be some mindless entertainment just incubating there in that treasured black box, waiting for me to come and retrieve it from the digital conveyor belt before it was pushed over the edge into Delete To Make Room For Other Programs.  I miss the be-dup-ba-dup-ba-dup! of the fast-forward button, which was so ingrained in my subconscious that I would actually anticipate hearing it whenever a show I was watching faded to black for commercial break.  I miss scanning past the acceptance speeches of boring award shows and the "out on the town" segments of beauty pageants, cackling to myself as I pictured all the Tivo-deprived suckers out there who had to sit through that nonsense while precious moments of their lives ticked wastefully by.  I miss the beloved green circles bestowed upon the listings of my and the kids' favorite shows, promising me that they would "Save Until I Delete," and never, ever leave me.  In fact, I think I miss Tivo more than I miss my friends, because Tivo can't Skype.

(4)  I miss feeling relevant.  My Facebook status updates have gravely suffered because I am without my daily infusion of popular culture, and my rare telephone calls with people back home lack that heartwarming "Did you see this week's episode?" bond.  I can offer no opinions as to which Bachelorette is the most desperate, or which Idol should be disqualified based on his or her salacious resume, or who is, in fact, the biggest loser.  Sure, I follow politics and global news, but I don't have a clue as to what is actually happening in the world. 

So Television, Tivo, please don't forget about me.  Please stay in touch.  And believe that I am trying, trying SO hard, to find a way to make this work.  I am researching satellite options, knowing that with satellite comes a magical little invention called Showbox, Tivo's dramatically less sophisticated knockoff cousin.  Yes, long distance relationships can be hard, but we are not like other couples.  We have history.  A long history that dates back to the New Zoo Revue, which as a child I used to watch alone with you before the sun and my parents rose.  We lived through many, many years of Little House on the Prairie together; and 90210, Felicity, and My So-Called Life taught me everything I needed to know about being a teenager.  As an adult, I knelt at the altar of Sex and the City, and I will be forever changed as a result of letting Carrie and Aidan and Big into my heart.  So please, don't turn your back on me.  I need you.  

And I hope that, in some little Nielsen way, you need me, too.  (sob, sniff)