If there’s anything likely to slay me on the spot, it’s a long spell in a doctor’s waiting room–and believe me, you wait in a waiting room: nothing was ever more aptly named–with daytime TV on the television set. I mean, really, why do they have to have TV in a doctor’s waiting room?
It is a mystery to me, how they contrive to make daytime TV so frightfully awful. The shows are all the same: maniacal worship of celebrities, frantic praise and applause for every little thing done by a celebrity, with here and there a quiet moment for the dispensing of some tiny tidbits of conventional PC poppycock. Like, “I’m with Madonna on this one–it’s time for the oppression of women to stop.” Yeah, Madonna is one of the oppressed.
But the low point, truly, was the sneak preview of a clip from J. Lo’s hot new music video, I Ain’t Yo Momma. You would’ve thought it was the cure for cancer, the way they carried on about it. I had to keep telling myself, “Really, this is not as bad as a toothache.” It only seemed as bad as a toothache.
I can’t help it: this is something that drives me positively bats, plays the devil with my blood pressure, is surely bad for me, and I just can’t seem to avoid it anymore. I hate going to the doctor.
Ah, well–post another hymn, Lee, and try to calm down.