Two topics of confusion and frustration assaulted my sensibilities this weekend. In both instances, the program guide on my television played an integral role. Both left me questioning the credentials of those who make the decisions, pull the strings (let's call these people The Man). Neither was necessarily important enough to warrant its own post, but together they initiated the firing of interconnected synapses that led to the formulation of a (crackpot) unified theory. Okay, maybe not, but they will be filed under the same heading, my overreliance on the cable mini-guide standing as my justification.
* * * * *
Saturday morning I awoke early. A light weekend, devoid of alcohol and regrettable forays into the realm of tobacco smoke, gave me the energy to rise with the sun on a beautiful spring (not according to the calendar) morning. Were I the owner of some idyllic farm and/or ranch, I could have mounted my trusty palomino and ridden the land, serenaded by birds. "Good Morning" they might sing to me in their stilted falsetto, as I soaked in the pleasures of a good night's sleep and early rise. However I live in an apartment in the middle of one of the largest urban areas in the country. So I turned on the TV instead.
I flipped throught the usual cable channels - History, ESPN, Food Network, etc. Nothing caught my fancy. Boredom, usually a companion that appears much later, accosted me within 30 minutes. Video games were considered then tossed aside, it was too early for reading. The internet offered no solace. I went back to searching the multitude cable channels.
"Good lord, there ain't shit on TV on Saturday mornings," I said to myself. That phrase made me stop short - Saturday Morning. A sudden wave of nostalgia washed over my mind. Memories of animated heroes danced and fought before my eyes. Ninja Turtles! Ghostbusters! Saturday Morning Cartoons! Network television, a medium I normally eschew, save for major pro and collegiate athletics, now became my savior.
I quickly brought up the guide, wondering all the while "What do the kids these days watch? Will all the cartoons be computer animated - will any still be hand-drawn? Are any of my old favorites still on? Do they still show old Looney Tunes?" The guide brought up FOX. Local news. Well, that's weird, but it is FOX, they make strange decisions. And their animated bones are made on Sunday nights anyways, let's check NBC. Local news. What the hell? Keep in mind this wasn't at 6 in the morning - we were now in the 7 or 8 o'clock hour. ABC and CBS were similarly devoid of animated adventures. I was appalled that children (notoriously early risers, especially in comparison to their parents) would be robbed of cartoons this early in the morning. I skipped ahead on the clock of my guide (a villain that would tell me secrets later that night) to see at what point Saturday Morning Cartoons actually begin.
Well, have I got a scandalous scoop for you all. Saturday Morning Cartoons no longer exist. Perhaps those of you with children already know this. I did not. And I was shocked. Now granted, there is a smattering of child-focused programming to be seen during this time, but few of them are animated, and many are (ugggh) educational. There are no four-hour blocks of mindless adventures starring anthropomorphic animal/robot/other heroes battling their somewhat disturbingly malevolent nemeses. Instead there is news, news, and That's So Raven, starring that adorable child from the latter years of the Cosby Show who might now very well be a 35-year-old mother of four. Needless to say, Looney Tunes was nowhere to be found on the guide.
Not to sound like a crotchety old man (again), but I think this might be what's wrong with the current generation of children. Cable channels like Disney and Noggin (sp?) have conspired with DVDs to kill the ancient tradition of children watching cartoons over soggy bowls of cereal, while trying not to awaken their hungover parents. It makes me very sad.
* * * * *
Later in the evening I was again flipping through the guide. On a side note, it may now be quite obvious to the reader that I peruse the guide quite often, even when I have found something worth watching. It is a practice which drives my woman crazy. I am forever in fear of missing something even more awesome, the proverbial greener grass.
Anyways, I was actually looking to see what was scheduled for late in the night/early in the morning, hoping for an old movie that I could set my DVR to record. I began to note some anomalies in the length of certain films scheduled to air on the movie channels. One in particular seemed to be of a strange running time. Upon bringing up the info for this movie (the name of which I have already forgotten) I discovered that despite being only 112 minutes long, the film was scheduled to air from 1 am to 4 am. I went back to the previous screen, and looked at the times across the top. The half-hour blocks read thus: 1:00, 1:30, 3:00, 3:30. What the hell happened to two o'clock?
Well, by this point, you fruitful members of society will have realized that the clocks changed that night. I quickly came to this hypothesis, and grabbed my laptop for a quick verification. Sure enough, the time it was a-changing. Which is fine, I am all in favor of Daylight Savings and whatnot. My point is this - how the hell was I supposed to know? It never fails that I stumble across this info at the last minute. I always find out before it happens, but usually by some ridiculous means such as those illustrated above.
Just once I'd like to not know and wake up all confused when things are screwed up. Perhaps this is how it works for most people. It is The Man's practical joke on all of our pocketwatches.
(I picture The Man in this instance as some suit standing over the shoulder of a technician in a lab coat deep in the bowels of the Royal Observatory in Greenwich. "Let's move the clocks forward tonight," he tells the technician.
The technician punches a large red button that says "Spring Forward." Loud clicks and squeals are heard in an adjacent room. As they subside, the technician turns to the suit and says "shouldn't we send out a press release or something, sir?"
"Hell no," the suit says, "let the vermin figure it out on their own!" Then he cackles maniacally. "Oh and Tompkins?"
"Yes sir?"
"You're fired. Collect your things.")
Or something like that. The point is, there should be more of an effort made to let people know that the clocks are changing. Perhaps door-to-door messengers. Or sky-writing aeroplanes. Listen, I don't know, we'll figure something out.
Either that, or we could move the time change to Sunday night, then watch the pandemonium unfold as the vermin scurry about trying to figure out what's happened on Monday morning. Mwah-hah-hah-hah!!!!!!
