Boob tube: (n) television or a television set.
He was a small, elf-like man with a mischievous grin who used to love to tease me with various tricks and little lies he’d tell to produce astonishment, which brought him great levity when seeing my bewildered face.
I remember telling him one day that I liked Milky Way candy bars. The next time he came to see me, he brought me black licorice. He said, “If you like Milky Ways, you’re really going to like black licorice.”
To this day I don’t know whether he was joking with me or if he really thought that black licorice tasted like Milky Ways.
This is the same thing I feel about television. In an attempt to pulse the marketplace to become more realistic, the producers try to convince us that their exaggeration is reality. In other words, they pass off black licorice as Milky Ways.
I’m not so sure they mean harm, but I’m quite positive they do not understand that the purpose of art is to both evoke and invoke–evoke a response, but invoke more of the beautiful attributes of human behavior.
An evening of watching the boob tube makes me feel that the world is filled with boobs–idiots who think they achieve their purposes by resorting to violence.
Of course, this is ridiculous. The laws of our land forbid us from even laying a finger on another person without being accused of assault. But we are led to believe that revenge, getting even, cheating, lying, expressing great frustration and being childish are acceptable forms of behavior.
Television is not dangerous, it’s just irresponsible.
It is fully aware that we need Milky Ways, but for some reason it has over-purchased black licorice and is trying to get rid of it.
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