Tuned Deaf

I have achieved cable news nirvana: I am tuned deaf. Regardless the channel, regardless the topic, regardless the host, regardless the guests, my brain processes nothing.

It is wonderful.

For all I can tell, Brit-Sean-Greta-Glenn-Wolf-Jack-Nancy-Tom-George-David-Chris-Keith are reading the entire Vladivostok phone directory out loud, something that would actually be more of a public service than what they do now.

Nothing gets to me anymore: the dumb questions asked; the critical questions unasked; the Mobius strip of smug pundits, corporate shills, and candidate proxies -- all mashed up with hundreds of coming-up, up-next, and still-to-come announcements, idiotic poll questions (Tell us what you think!), plus breaking news updates on the missing child/girlfriend/wife of the moment.

Did I mention it’s wonderful?

I haven’t felt this liberated since I realized that the typical Maureen Dowd column follows the same pattern as the Roomba cleaning algorithm.