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It's 2:45 on a Saturday night, and you are Superman. Eight feet tall, bulletproof and feeling no pain. Unfortunately, your girlfriend's out of town, the bowl's cashed and Digger passed out on the couch five minutes ago. You are way too superhuman to sleep but you can't remember how to drive. It's you, the recliner and the idiot box. |
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Ever actually bought something from an infomercial? Did it suck? |
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MTV has this weird Amp thing on. The porn channel is all squiggled but you still get the sound. Wonderful. But tonight it's giving off some weird high-frequency squeal you're pretty sure isn't Teri Weigel. And Springer's a rerun. |
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And then you discover a world where everything's super. It's beautiful, new, convenient and valuable as all hell. It'll give you the body you gave up on years ago, it'll save you time and money, it'll improve your relationships, it slices, it dices. |
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It's hard to resist Ron Popeil's Leatherette rictus and the sheer poetry he employs for the Dial-O-Matic Slicer (you can hear the capitalization) and the short work it makes of onions: "The only tears you'll shed...will be tears of joy." You try to find your credit card. |
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A couple channels later, you find what looks like some freaky show about aliens in overalls. No, wait, it's about kids undergoing cancer treatments at St. Jude's Hospital. A little charity wouldn't kill you, but you're way too bummed out to keep watching. |
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South of channel 27, the fitness ads begin. Christie Brinkley and Chuck Norris holding a Mensa meeting in a warehouse to talk about one of those total-body machines. Chuck looks gravely into the camera and drops his voice to talk about some guy rehabilitating his knee. Tell it to the kids at St. Jude's, Chuck. |
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And there: a room full of psychics, and it looks like they all got their clothes from channel 55. They're taking calls and making predictions. You've stumbled onto the mothership. This one chick in a sea-green tunic is just dead on, man. She's telling people things about themselves even they didn't know. You've been wondering about that Sears job all weekend, and the first 25 minutes are free.... |
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Somewhere around 9:30 you wake up with a hellacious hangover, a nasty cramp in your neck and the phone propped on your shoulder with the disconcerting sound of an open line. |
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Clark Kent is back, and he's kicked your sorry ass. |
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Gadgetgirl