Drew’s Daughter Dislikes TV. Drew Is Fucked.

I’ve watched a lot of TV in my lifetime. Remember the Schmoo? Of course you don’t. Only I do, because that’s how much TV I watched when I was a kid. As a result, my attention span is about as long as a Taiwanese man’s penis. By the time I’m through writing this blog entry, I’ll have checked gorillamask 800 times to see videos of grizzly bears fighting sumo wrestlers, and what not. It’s a handicap.

This wasn’t my parents’ fault. They moved heaven and earth to get me away from the TV set (except getting rid of the TV altogether, which I guess would have made sense). They kept telling me it was beautiful day outside, which annoyed me because sunlight meant too much glare on the TV screen. I’d also get out of bed after they had fallen asleep at night, and go downstairs to watch TV for hours on end. Once we ended up getting Showtime, I became a walking imdb of obscure 70’s softcore porn. “Happy Housewives”; “Inhibition”; “The Naughty Stewardesses”; “The Sensuous Nurse”: you name it, I saw it. I even remember dialogue from these movies. I also remember that all of them featured bad dubbing and were usually set in Manila. Apparently, if you lived in the Philippines in 1972, you were never not fucking.

(My favorite one was a dirty version of “Cinderella.” In this version, Cinderella didn’t have a Fairy Godmother, she had a Fairy Godpimp, played by a black dude with a really bigass Afro in a role that likely set black people back another 75 years. The best part was when the Fairy Godpimp touched his cane on Cinderella’s crotch and said to her, “I just gave you a snappin’ poooooo-say!!” Put 30 Oscar-winning screenwriters in a room together and they’ll never come up with a line that memorable.)

I don’t watch as much TV these days, what with work, marriage and Mrs. Drew constantly demanding to do things like “talk” and “have sex”. Whatever. I’m missing The Colbert Report, lady.

The problem now is, I’ve watched so much television that my priorities are now completely reversed. Lots of people today complain that they would like to have more time to spend with their family. I, on the other hand, complain that I’d like to have more time to watch television. For example: I’ve never watched a single episode of Lost. It’s supposed to be an awesome show. Like, really awesome. Maybe even better than Alias, which I also haven’t seen. I should be watching it. I also haven’t seen 24, Oz, The Shield, or all of Arrested Development. I’ll probably regret missing those shows when I’m old, much in the same way old people regret things like alcoholism, smoking, or killing another man. And that makes me a fucking weirdo.

The Girl does not seem to enjoy television the same way I do. Turn it on and the flashing images and disparate voices distract her and make her upset. I, too, get distracted. On multiple occasions I’ve been feeding her and watching TV at the same time, only to get caught up on what’s on the screen, failing to see that I’m accidentally force-feeding the Girl, as if my goal is to turn her into pate. Half of what I feed her then gets spit up and her clothes get drenched. Then she starts crying. Then I start crying, because I missed seeing a figure skater eat it hard on the ice. It’s a vicious cycle. Damn you, cathode ray tube.

A stronger man would throw out the TV and become one of those insufferable people who brag about never watching TV. I hate people like that. Watch too much TV and yes, you’re a loser. But if you don’t watch any TV at all, then you’re a douche and I don’t want to know you. So what to do? I love TV. The Girl hates it. Do I love TV more than my own flesh and blood?

It probably depends on what’s on.