What’s On TV?

There’s usually a time to turn off the cable TV, and that’s when you turn it on.

TALKING HEADS. No, not the band. With basic cable especially, nothing is ever on. Sure, you’ve got the golf channel, constantly cycling reruns of great shots at The Masters, where putt after putt wanders across the green and woh!, into the hole! The golfers are then shown in succession rambling on about birdies and what a tough shot the ninth hole was. Seriously, what the hell is there to talk about? The fit of their shirt? The fact that the brim on their hat is an inch too long? That whatsisname’s pants are pink?

The Speed Channel is also wonderful for watching NASCAR talking heads ramble on about cars and stuff. MSNBC had a story about the “greening” of the “sport,” where Goodyear, for one, is taking the tons of discarded tires and actually recycling the things. The oil, too, the hundreds of thousands of gallons, is being recycled. Amazing, that after all this time, the sport that consumes massive quantities of petrofuel with their 850 horsepower engines getting five miles to the gallon so they can rev around a track in one cacophonic traffic jam is finally reusing their blatant excess.

THE CHARCOAL-BASED FART FILTER. The Discovery Channel had a show called Pitchmen, where bearded Billy Mays and British coseller Anthony Sullivan sit in an Invention Convention for 14 hours while a line of wannabe millionaires wait for a chance for the two master pitchers to glom onto their product and sell ridiculous quantities to housewives and retired workers in the Midwest.

It’s a fascinating show if you like watching things and people that should not be.

One such amazing product was a little maxi pad-like cloth insert that one would put into their underwear to protect against fart smell. Most likely not a loud fwaaap! Because by that time everybody knows who farted, regardless of smell. But those sneaky SBD’s? Perfect remedy. Just stick the deodorant infused patch onto your underwear and fart away.

Yeah.

The show then drives along with the bearded Billy Mays in his Bentley, and over to his house which is way bigger than yours.

Later, you change the channel to the QVC. Awesome, only here can you hear people selling, with the utmost intensity, rings and clothes and googahs that are quite possibly the worst products you’ve ever seen. I’m serious when I say this: the QVC is the best channel on television. It is the epitome of “nothing on.”

Turn the shit off. I’d rather listen to 311 than be subjected to another episode of Rachel Ray (who healthied up, by the way).