—Kris Jenner
I do not watch television.
I guess what I really mean
is I watch tv quite rarely.
These days, anyway.
This was not always the
case. I turned the te-
levision off for about
ten years around 2000
(the year that I moved
to San Francisco, as it
turns out). Because it
was all Reality TV, Who
Wants to Be A Money
Money Money Money,
American Idol. Even
Lost looked like a cross
between a soap opera
and Survivor to me.
To me, television
was filled with no-
thing but total trash.
Then, about a decade
later, with a huge new
television, and a room-
mate who watched it
(at least Nick at Nite
and the Cartoon Net-
work) I’d occasion-
ally watch TV.
During that decade
plus, I got used to
enjoying shows I
never watched but
learned to love. It
was a couple thing,
it seems, upon re-
flection.
Soon, network shows
exploded on the internet.
That’s how i look at it, any-
way. Suddenly, after bingeing
on Mad Men and Damages,
watching TV was not synony-
mous with having a lobotomy,
or at least having one’s
intelligence (should one
have it) insulted.
These days there’s Netflix
and Hulu and Amazon and
CBS (Yes, CBS has been
around forever, but that
is a network to which I’d
certainly subscribe, were the
extra money necessary to
do so at my disaposal.
Should I add only
because of the
new Star Trek?).
Even HBO
seems
a must
again,
just
to
keep
up with
pop culture.
And there are
so many good shows.
When Meryl Streep
appears on a weekly
drama, you know
the world has
changed.
So why am I
writing this
poem sitting
here in my
friends’ hotel
room (We happen
to be watching
The Kardashians.
It’s my first
time, it seems nec-
essary to add.)? I
feel old as I try not to
listen to what they are
saying on the monster set
in front of the cushy hotel
couch upon which I am sitting.
And uncomfortable
and embarrassed
as the world moves
away from me.
