A woman writes about television. If I weren't happily married already, I'd propose to her:
I notice that everywhere I go now, there is an irritating tv blaring at me, and, as always, at high volume. My family doctor, podiatrist, orthopaedic surgeon, and dentist all have tvs on board. The family doctor goes so far as to have one blaring in the waiting room, with all controls being automated so that they will inform you that they cannot turn down the volume, let alone turn it off. I've taken to signing in at the desk, giving them my cell phone number, and telling them to buzz me when they are ready for me, because I go out and sit and my truck and read, or take a catnap. They think I'm nuts because I loathe sitting in that waiting room. I can't stand loud sitcoms and annoying commercials screeching at me while I am trying to read. And as always, the most amazing thing is that every adult in that room is in a complete trance, absolutely wrapped up in whatever happens to be on, with eyes not to avert from the tube for anything. What blockheads.
