On the screen in front of me, the Desperate Housewives bare their claws over tea. Just to the left, a CSI supermodel in a lab coat scrunches her brow and says: "It's all just a little too neat. I'm going back to the crime scene."
If it weren't for the occasional men's field hockey telecast from India, my gym could be in Topeka or Van Nuys or Providence.
The clientele, however, is definitely Indonesian; mostly prosperous, fashionable young women. I only partly understand their locker-room chatter, but it's fun to listen to them talk ... like a song with such a good tune that you don't really need to know the words.
Sometimes the multiple televisions lead to disturbing synergies. The other day I was on the elliptical machine watching one of those scientific-investigation type shows. The plot centered on a guy who'd planted a bomb that was going to kill a lot of people, and there was a digital clock counting down the time until Zero Hour. An actual countdown clock! I didn't think anyone did those anymore!
So the clock was counting, and the supermodels were running around collecting microscopic evidence, and I looked over at the next screen, which was CNN. And there were terrible pictures on CNN, terrible pictures of kids caught in the crossfire between Israel and Hezbollah. And when I looked back, the clock was ticking, and the investigators were closing in. Somehow you knew they'd defuse the bomb before it went off. If only it were that easy to save the world.
1 comment:
damn it trish, the whole point of a wall of televisions is to KEEP people from thinking, not the other way around. now just watch TV, and stop making trouble.
Post a Comment