I am unnaturally obsessed with PBS. When I turn on the TV, I automatically put on one of the two public channels Comcast provides (used to be three; I cried when Create was taken off the air). What can I say, I wear glasses and I like to learn.
Most of the time, I feel pretty good about this predilection, like when I catch an episode of the Jeremy Brett version of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, or when I hear the gruff, but alluring, voice of Burt Wolf blaring from the box.
There are other times though, when I'm not thrilled about what's on, but I'll watch anyway. Like when Tavis Smiley is on or Charlie Rose is talking to someone really boring.
But then there are the instances when I find myself watching a show that I'd rather not. Take tonight, for instance. I sat down to browse the channels and write on Twitter. Like a true addict (of PBS and now Twitter), I hit up channel 17 first (no idea what was on), and then moved on to channel 2. Frontline was on, so I stopped and watched.
I thought to myself, audiences are always offered an informative, interesting program with Frontline. I'm going to hear an in-depth story about a real-life issue. I'm going to learn!
I didn't bother to remember that every time it's on, they're featuring something miserable... and today was no different.
I watched The Dancing Boys of Afghanistan. I learned about bacha bazi, the practice of buying, selling, raping, trading Afghani boys, and really, much, much more. We're talking super happy stuff. I mean, could I have honestly asked PBS for a more thrilling topic to lull me into a nightmarish sleep? Maybe if you threw a few puppies and baby kitties in there and then stepped on them.
Now, Independent Lens is on and I'm feeling sad and shitty all over again. They're talking about soil, and how we just LOVE destroying the earth! Couldn't they have just thrown on a cartoon? I love you PBS, I feel like I learn from you, but you turn me into such a miserable sack of shit sometimes. I just wish there was a happy edifying show on somewhere, right now. I have to wait until this weekend where I can bask in the glow of my happy PBS crew of lispy Rick Steves and thin-haired Lydia. Those are the guys who really understand my needs.