When I think of home, I can’t help but hear the T.V. running like a toilet. Except with T.Vs, jiggling the handle means banging the remote against the table so the batteries work, or turning the dial to the next station, or adjusting the antennae so the image comes in clearer.
I’m not sure when my beef with television began, but I do know a T.V., at any volume, always sparks some irritation within me.
My grandfather calls it “Tell Lie Vision,” a riff that, like all jokes, has some truth to it. And perhaps, that’s precisely my issue: T.V. lying on my vision.