how public radio drove me to cable tv

Time was, I didn't have a tv at all. And you know when you dump a no-good lout of a boyfriend, then after a good cry and a few pints of ice cream you feel much better--so much so that you wonder why you ever liked the guy in the first place? In exactly that way, I didn't miss tv. I had just moved to Boston from DC, where I worked at NPR, so I was fully indoctrinated into the cult of public radio. I shunned Friends and ER in favor of This American Life, which was then in its early years.

Then I got a job that required a lot of movie watching (and it was The Worst Job Ever! true story!), which is how the insidious creature got into the house. As soon as the thing was plugged in and the VCR set up, Burton and I turned into the Augustus Gloop of television-watching. (Did I lose you there? Follow along: Piggy that he was, Augustus fell into Willy Wonka's chocolate river and was sucked up the tube to the fudge factory. B and I are Augustus, the boob-tube is our chocolate river, and the fudge factory is utterly irrelevant, but who doesn't like to say "fudge factory" and glance around the room to see who else is giggling? Oh, just me? Really?)

Anyway, we watched the worst of it, from America's Next Top Model to the whole of the Law and Order empire (though I never could stomach Friends). Too cheap to subscribe to cable, we bought whatever slop the networks were selling.

And now this happens. This American Life. On cable tv. I am so there. A ball of putty in Showtime's hands, my friends. Show me where to sign my name, and I shall.