When we are young, we are foolish. As we grow old, we become more wise. Allegedly that's the case anyway. Frankly, I'm not so sure that it's the reality.
Several months ago, I lamented the idea that I was going to try to watch six-and-a-half hours of television on Monday nights. It was certainly achievable (sort of anyway, and only because the gods have created TiVo), but seemed like Monday night already had more than its fair share of shows to interest me. See, that's the foolishness of youth. Right now, I look back on those days and think that six-and-a-half hours is far less than what I'm currently trying to accomplish. That's the foolishness of (slightly) older age at work.
Last night I sat down and attempted to watch House, 24, Top Gear, Heroes, Chuck, The Secret Life of the American Teenager, Trust Me, and How I Met Your Mother. That's a whole extra hour of television. What in God's name am I thinking? What in God's name are the television programmers thinking?
At this point, I have no choice but to believe that the programmers at the cable and broadcast networks have sat down and purposely tried to make my life slightly more difficult than it actually has to be. Oh, I can see them right now, with their assistants all scurrying out for bagels and coffee ("two tall lattes, each with two-and-a-half Sweet-n-Lows placed into the cups prior to the latte being made. Don't just get a venti or a grande, the proportions are wrong, and I'll know if the Sweet-n-Low went in after not before, believe you me."), they sit down at their big conference table overlooking Burbank or Century City or some neutral ground. Bagels and coffee arrived, assistants properly chided, the lights dim, and a shadowy figure at the head of the table queries "what, precisely, can we do to make Josh's life more difficult today?" At that point the maniacal laughter begins, and that, ever so slowly dissipates, miraculously turning into the Stonecutters' song. Who makes Steve Guttenberg a star, indeed.