Pop Vultures

Hi. My name is Marcia, and I love television.

There. I said it. It only took 30+ years to admit it, but I finally did. I used to say I loved some television shows, perhaps, or that I enjoyed vegetating on the sofa for an hour after a hard day. Only an hour, mind you. No one wants to admit to seeing their entire evening vanish into the depths of the cable box. But to say you love television is synonymous with saying you love to live vicariously through fictional people, or that you love to allow Hollywood programmers to think for you. It’s not acceptable to love this brain-cell-killing, scandal-glorifying idiot box.

But I do. I love films, too, and I’ll surely write about them from time to time, but they don’t give me what I need the way television can. Yes, they can have charismatic actors and stunning cinematography and clever writing, but I can’t think of a single film that features a more subtle actor than Michael C. Hall (Six Feet Under, Dexter), or more beautifully realistic cinematography than Friday Night Lights, or smarter writing than Veronica Mars (a moment of silence, if you will). Films can be wonderful, but so can television.

More than just about anything else, I love stories. I have been a devoted bookworm since I was first hooked on phonics in first grade. I love my friends’ stories, my family’s history, our own epic creations. And, while film can tell a lovely two hour story (or, if it sees fit to include an elf or two, a mere ten hours), the narrative plane of television is limitless. Characters can discover hidden depths over five seasons. People can fall in love and get married and die and, if they’re very lucky, even be on a show where they get to come back to life. Hell, I’m still waiting for the entire cast of Alias to resurrect for a reunion show. They might even decide to make it the zombie reunion show, and they CAN, because anything goes on television. That freedom to tell whatever story they want, over as long as they want…bless ‘em. Pull up your remote control and go along for the ride.

This is not a free pass. Lost nearly, well, lost me when it took the “as long as they want” part a little too literally. Buffy the Vampire Slayer has two seasons of which many fans Do Not Speak because the writers pulled character assassinations that would have made McCarthy take notes. Grey’s Anatomy has been so desperate to keep everything fresh and lively and interesting that it doesn’t even make sense anymore. Stories still need to be good. They need a clear narrative, a marked path for the story to wander along. They need characters I want to know more about. So, yes, I love television, but I sure as sweet hell don’t love all of it.

I’m gonna do my best not to be a snob about it, though. You will never catch me watching Big Brother, because life is too short for that. But for someone else, it tells stories they want to hear. To my great shame, I watch and enjoy America’s Next Top Model, and I’ve never been able to justify that. People like what they like. On occasion, I just want to explore why that is.

I do have a life. I exercise regularly, cook mostly healthy meals, work full-time, see friends whenever possible. I have not yet become so unbalanced that I think the people inside the talking box are my friends. I think there are a lot of people out there like me, whose rich, full lives also happen to include a fair amount of TV-watching. Maybe more than they want to admit. To you, I say: welcome. You are among friends.