Dear People without Televisions,

As I sink into my nest of pillows and blankets on the couch every night before Iron Chef, The Office, America's Next Top Model, Community, 30 Rock, etc., I know this vapid fare does not make me a better wife, mother, voter, cook, or sex partner. It only serves to dull my mind as well as my body.

"Hey baby? Grab me another Bud while you're in there."

Thereby I concede: I lose, you win. You are a better person than me, wholly entitled to that smug expression. Your kids are not mentally flattened by the likes of Spongebob and Hannah Montana. Their impressionable young minds are not swirling down the toilets of the Jersey Shore.

Can we be done with this now?

Because if one more television non-owner comes up to me and manages to find a way to inform me of their non-television ownership status within the first 30 seconds of our initial meeting, I'm liable to let loose a serious string of expletives.

It is obnoxious when you say, "Well--heh-heh--having not owned a television for the past 12 years ... " three seconds after I've extended my hand and introduced myself. Did you fail to notice that no one mentioned Satan's box or any of its relevant contents? And no, your jolly self-deprecating tone does not help. At all.

Remember when the first People With Cell Phones felt the need to say, "I'm calling you on my cell," at the beginning of every conversation? That is you, except they have faded, you have not.

Now for the bad news, sugartits. Having a television set is no longer relevant. You can watch mind-sucking slop online 24/7. Courtesy of a high-speed internet connection, the Cartoon Network will gladly deliver unto you Courage the Cowardly Dog starring in "Son of the Chicken from Outer Space" in all of it's glorious mediocrity.

Gee, you're in a tough situation. You either give up involvement in the modern world or try desperately to differentiate yourself within it. Because, whether or not you choose to dip your intellectual ladle into the barrel of online sewage is irrelevant, baby. Your choices are limited.

You could simply banish the evil Internet from your life, thereby joining the ranks of Aunt Gertie and Uncle Fred. Buy a cane while you're at it so you can shake something at the kids while you croak from the screen door, "Hey you kids! Get off the grass!"

Here's my advice: Come over to the dark side, if only for a moment. Click on, log in, drop down.

Behold a darling bevy of 16 and Pregnant mother's-to-be, or the luscious queens of RuPaul's Drag Race. Do what you do best and wax superior when the hellish reality of Hoarders comes spilling from your sleek iMac. Have an innocuous tab at the ready (Salon, HuffPo, or perhaps Epinion's latest commentary on Samsung's DualView digital camera). When the Missus wanders in to see what your chortling over, with one clandestine click, you'll temporarily banish Snookie & Co. until you are alone again with your new little friends.

You have another option. You could revamp your clever unlike bottom feeders like you, I don't have a television speech to sound more like this: "Although I'm completely savvy regarding today's online media, I never, ever use my Cox DOCSIS 3.0 enhanced wireless ultimate high speed connection to watch (ahem) television shows."

Only trouble is, no one will believe you.

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Ol' Jane and the Kingster

Why in the hell anyone gives Larry King a microphone is beyond me. He has to be one of the worst interviewers of all time, yet there he is on CNN every night soaking up perfectly good human energy.

I do not normally watch the Kingster, but for some reason, I decided to see what ol' Jane had to say the other night, so I lingered for a while and can report that the above excerpt is as good as the interview got.

Jane kept doing this weird thing with her lips. There were dozens of awkward pauses. She also plugged her fitness "concert" (with the Pointer Sisters and Richard Simmons for only $75 a head!) so often, that it even began to irritate King.

Fonda sniped at King over his ex wives (I have to agree, Larry, seven ex wives is just plain embarrassing) and King brought up the Hanoi Jane thing. Fonda called it a created myth and said she was sad so many people were stuck in the past. I was seven years old when the controversy happened and don't know much about it, but this 38-year-old topic can still get some righties really pissed off.

At 76, the Kingster is like Skeletor in suspenders. It doesn't have to be this way, but seeing as he's only slightly more animated than a cadaver, what's a person left to notice about him?

I'll admit that ol' Jane looks pretty damn good for 72, and that there is no effing way I could have gotten into that cute V pose at any age, but I do sort of dig those snappy yellow leg warmers.

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