Angry Letter to My Television

All day long you stare vacantly at me with your one big, boxy eye, silently begging for me to twist the knob and give you life. Yet when I do, what do you do in thanks? You bombard me with trash at the speed of light. You shorten my vocabulary from thousands of words to hundreds. You subject me to twisted morals calling the act of reproduction more obscene than the act of killing. Like a black hole of time, you gulp away my life hours at a time, eventually consuming whole years of my existence. You attempt to control me and my emotions by telling me when to laugh and when to cry. You weaken both my thoughts and my attention span. Yet that is nowhere near the most evil thing you do. For, when you have a firm grasp upon my brain with your hypnotic substitute for reality, you use your flashy images to slowly erode the protective covering of my mind which we call thought. Then, once you have my conscious and subconscious splayed open and vulnerable before you, you jam dark pellets of false ideas deep into my memory. "Drinking Diet Mountain Dew is adventurous", you whisper, "Oatmeal is hip; Hondas are sexy; Eating fruit snacks is fun". You continue on as long as you can, every chance you get, never ceasing in you attempt to alter my thoughts and feelings through trickery and subversion. I just want you to know that, if it weren't for PBS, I would have gotten
rid of you long ago.