In this time of sectarian violence and division, there’s one fundamental religious belief we can all agree on, regardless of background: There is a special circle of Hell reserved for people who talk during your favorite TV show. No one’s really sure, but I believe it involves electrified flaming spikes and a cell phone jammer the size of Wisconsin. (“Can you hear me n-AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!”)
I wasn’t always a believer in TV-talkers’ Hell. My conversion experience took place just a few weeks ago on the couch in front of my television (most of my conversion experiences happen here – I am now an acolyte in the church of ShamWow). There I was, taking a small break from my strenuous daily exercise regimen, and all I wanted to do was watch a five-hour “Man vs. Wild” marathon. Well, I could only get in a meager two hours and 45 minutes before the TV talker showed up.
For the sake of anonymity, we’ll refer to this person as “Anonymous person who is definitely not a friend of my roommate’s and hopefully won’t be reading this.” You know this person: the parts of their brain that handle sight, hearing, smell, taste and touch all seem to have been accidentally cross-wired with the part of their brain that controls talking about everything that happened to them in the last 24 hours in biographical detail. Stimulating any of these senses will result in minute-by-minute descriptions of, “The strange mole I found when I was taking a shower this morning that I’m worried may actually be a wart and incidentally this story reminds me that I need to buy more soap and while I’m at the store I should probably pick up some more feminine hygiene products…”
Now I’m as big a fan of strange dermatological issues as the next guy, but when I’m watching “Man vs. Wild,” I have a certain hierarchy of priorities. It goes a little something like this:
1. Watching Bear Grylls kill, skin and eat a wild badger with nothing but his teeth.
2. Scratching myself.
3. Skinny-dipping in a tank full of piranhas and candirus.
4. Hearing about your disgusting personal issues and for the record, I don’t even know who Tiffany is, so your unresolved drama means nothing to me.
So it’s not that I don’t care, it’s just that there are a couple of things that take priority. Now, never let it be said that I resent communication, so in the interest of our friendship, I have compiled a list of things acceptable for a TV talker to say while I’m watching “Man vs. Wild:”
1. Wow.
2. I can’t believe he just ate that.
3. Someday, I hope to be awesome enough to eat a live raccoon.
4. I, anonymous person who is definitely not a friend of my roommate’s and hopefully won’t be reading this, do solemnly swear to never mention feminine hygiene products in your presence again as long as I live.
Some of you may say, this is selfish of me. I’m sorry; I couldn’t hear you over the horrendous noise of what I was trying to do.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, this guy is about to eat a live boa constrictor.