One day the English language is going to perish. The easy spokenness of it will perish and go black and crumbly — maybe — and it will become a language like Latin that learned people learn. And scholars will write studies of Larry Sanders and Friends and Will & Grace and Ellen and Designing Women and Mary Tyler Moore, and everyone will see that the sitcom is the great American art form. American poetry will perish with the language; the sitcoms, on the other hand, are new to human evolution and therefore will be less perishable.

The serious reader in the age of technology is a rebel by definition: a protester without a placard, a Luddite without hammer or bludgeon. She reads on planes to picket the antiseptic nature of modern travel, on commuter trains to insist on individualism in the midst of the herd, in hotel rooms to boycott the circumstances that separate her from her usual sources of comfort and stimulation, during office breaks to escape from the banal conversation of office mates, and at home to revolt against the pervasive and mind-deadening irrelevance of television.

I devised a test.I turned off the TV and instantly the snoring stopped. She began to move. When I felt her eyes about to open, I turned the TV back on and back to sleep she went. Then I'd turn it off and on - sometimes for millisecond - and she never failed me. Each time it was off, she's move and mutter - each time it was on, she'd sleep.By the time the headlights from Amy's Nova turned into our driveway, my suspicion had been confirmed. My mother has a more intimate, connected relationship with this television than she has ever had with me.

There are many stories and accounts about the winners of lotteries whoare jubilant when they win, but whose lives descend into a nightmareafter acquiring that unearned money. (No challenge, no skill.) Thelottery looks like "the answer" to people because they associate moneywith pleasure. But the true enjoyment of money comes in part from theearning of it, which involves skill and challenge.Watching television is usually done for pleasure. That's why so fewpeople can remember (or make use of) any of the 30 hours of televisionthey have watched in the past week.

Not only these were new kinds of stories, they were being told with a new kind of formal structure. [...] The result was a storytelling architecture you could picture as a colonnade - each episode a brick with its own solid, satisfying shape, but also part of a season-long arc that, in turn, would stand linked to other seasons to form a coherent, freestanding work of art. [...] The new structure allowed huge creative freedom: to develop characters over long stretches of time, to tell stories over the course of fifty hours or more, the equivalent of countless movies.

It's a beautiful day in this neighborhood,A beautiful day for a neighbor.Would you be mine?Could you be mine?...It's a neighborly day in this beauty wood,A neighborly day for a beauty.Would you be mine?Could you be mine?...I've always wanted to have a neighbor just like you.I've always wanted to live in a neighborhood with you.So, let's make the most of this beautiful day.Since we're together we might as well say:Would you be mine?Could you be mine?Won't you be my neighbor?Won't you please,Won't you please?Please won't you be my neighbor?

There are different ways people make this place. Sweat, exercise and pain is one way. You can see them in the gyms, in the well-ordered swimming pools. You can see them jogging in the small, worn parks. Another way to make your place is TV. A bright, brash place, always well lit, full of fun and jokes that tell you when to laugh so you never miss them. World news carefully edited so that it’s not too disturbing, but disturbing enough to make you glad that you weren’t born in a foreign country. News with music to tell you who to hate, who to feel sorry for, and who laugh at.

In saying no one knew about the ideas implicit in the telegraph, I am not quite accurate. Thoreau knew. Or so one may surmise. It is alleged that upon being told that through the telegraph a man in Maine could instantly send a message to a man in Texas, Thoreau asked, "But what do they have to say to each other?" In asking this question, to which no serious interest was paid, Thoreau was directing attention to the psychological and social meaning of the telegraph, and in particular to its capacity to change the character of information -- from the personal and regional to the impersonal and global.

I turn on the TV and watch Bewitched. Is life in America really the way it's portrayed on these television shows? Are people so superficial? Do men really walk around in their suits at home? Are there men like Doctor and Mr. Mehrbaan in the United States, men who sacrifice their lives for the cause they believe in? I Dream of Jeannie and The Six Million Dollar Man follow Bewitched. I think of the character of Jeannie, a woman from the Middle East played by Barbara Eden. I look at Mrs. Mehrbaan, also a woman from the Middle East, and wonder why Americans don't make movies about Middle Eastern women like her.

أعتقد أن التليفزيون وسيلة ثقافية هامة للغاية .. كلما وجدت شخصاً يقوم بتشغيله، أذهب إلى غرفة أخرى لقراءة كتاب

Televizyon okuma kültürünü yok etmiştir. Halbuki zihinsel gelişim için okuma eyleminin yerini hiçbir eylem tutamaz. Seyirci olmak için hiçbir beceri gerekmez. "Televizyon okuma-yazma kültürünü genişletmez ve pekiştirmez. Tersine, okuma-yazma kültürüne saldırır. Televizyon, herhangi bir şeyin devamıysa eğer, on beşinci yüzyıldaki matbaanın değil, 19. Yüzyılın ortasında telgraf ile fotoğrafın başlattığı geleneğin devamıdır.

Americans may say they love our accents (I have been accused of sounding 'like Princess Di') but the more thoughtful ones resent and rather dislike us as a nation and people, as friends of mine have found out by being on the edge of conversations where Americans assumed no Englishmen were listening.And it is the English, specifically, who are the targets of this. Few Americans have heard of Wales. All of them have heard of Ireland and many of them think they are Irish. Scotland gets a sort of free pass, especially since Braveheart re-established the Scots' anti-English credentials among the ignorant millions who get their history off the TV.

Usually I spare myself from the news, because if it’s not propaganda, then it’s one threat or another exaggerated to the point of absurdity, or it’s the tragedy of storm-quake-tsunami, of bigotry and oppression misnamed justice, of hatred passed off as righteousness and honor called dishonorable, all jammed in around advertisements in which a gecko sells insurance, a bear sells toilet tissue, a dog sells cars, a gorilla sells investment advisers, a tiger sells cereal, and an elephant sells a drug that will improve your lung capacity, as if no human being in America any longer believes any other human being, but trusts only the recommendations of animals.

I'm the idiot box. I'm the TV. I'm the all-seeing eye and the world of the cathode ray. I'm the boob tube. I'm the little shrine the family gathers to adore.' 'You're the television? Or someone in the television?' 'The TV's the altar. I'm what people are sacrificing to.' 'What do they sacrifice?' asked Shadow.'Their time, mostly,' said Lucy. 'Sometimes each other.' She raised two fingers, blew imaginary gunsmoke from the tips. Then she winked, a big old I Love Lucy wink.'You're a God?' said Shadow.Lucy smirked, and took a ladylike puff of her cigarette. 'You could say that,' she said.

Television's perfect. You turn a few knobs, a few of those mechanical adjustments at which the higher apes are so proficient, and lean back and drain your mind of all thought. And there you are watching the bubbles in the primeval ooze. You don't have to concentrate. You don't have to react. You don't have to remember. You don't miss your brain because you don't need it. Your heart and liver and lungs continue to function normally. Apart from that, all is peace and quiet. You are in the man's nirvana. And if some poor nasty minded person comes along and says you look like a fly on a can of garbage, pay him no mind. He probably hasn't got the price of a television set.