It's TV Week over at Salon, my minions. That means it's definitely time for you to get over and watch the brief advertisement to which they will subject you, each and every day this week (unless you're already part of their self-righteous pinko subscription base, in which case you need only click and visit), so that you can read every word My Beloved Heather Havrilesky writes about Our Glorious Nation's glorious scheme of high-quality television programming.
Support this national treasure (I mean Ms. Havrilesky) in her travail--the poor dear actually works for a living--during this tumultuous period of television newness by poring over every syllable of her excretions. And put down your damn book, you egghead, and watch some television. Satan commands it.
2 comments:
To prove that I did read Heather (and I have a Salon subscription, thank you very much, so I don't need to see no stinking ad), here is my favorite bit:
And how are we supposed to focus on the plot when Jennifer Love's Hewitts are busting out of her wedding dress? How can we possibly fear the teary-eyed ghost soldier when there's just a thin nightie between us and Jennifer Love's (sleeping) Hewitts? You might as well throw a little yellow puppet singing show tunes into every scene.
So will you be having books on cd now in the library? LOL
Signed,
Egghead
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