The only prescription is more TV

Everyone seems to be in a tizzy because "Crash" won best picture over "Brokeback Mountain" at the recent Academy Awards.\nI have one major problem with this argument -- I haven't seen either movie.\nI didn't even watch the Academy Awards. What are they? Who is this Oscar and why is he so shiny?\nI'm young. I'm hip. But I have no idea what's going on. That rock everyone accuses you of living under -- that is my home.\nI thought youth culture and pop culture were synonymous. But is it possible that there's an entire subculture of young people who are too busy with school and work to have any idea of what happened last week on "American Idol?" The simple act of not watching TV dissolves an entire state of social awareness.\nMy roommate and I are too cheap to buy cable. Slowly, I find myself losing touch. We do, however, get PBS. And I mean it when I say that "Antiques Roadshow" and "News Hour with Jim Lehrer" are delightful treats, but I'm never home to watch them.\nWhen it comes to television consumption, we've all met those scary people. They live under a bridge and survive on a diet of old newspapers and broken dreams.\nWhen you ask, "Did you catch that last episode of 'The OC?'" they reply with a sinister snarl, "I don't watch TV."\nAwkward.\nI used to think the only people who didn't watch TV were hippies and, well, hippies. But I don't wear Birkenstocks, I have no concept of flower power and I no longer watch TV. What have I become? I'm a hideous monster. Look away.\nI have the Internet for news and word-of-mouth for the really important stuff, but I still feel like I live in a bubble. And not the good kind. Soap bubbles are fun. Bubble gum is tasty. But this particular bubble is a bubble of solidarity and out-of-touch-ness. I feel like I've aged 50 years or more without TV.\nI'm so close to sitting on a porch swing with an afghan on my lap muttering, "Kids these days," that I can almost feel the shotgun in my hands and hear the pitter-patter of so many cats' paws.\nThis is a cry for help. Something must be done before I'm a 70-year-old trapped in a 20-year-old's body. There must be a way I can supplement a lack of TV with pills, intravenously or somehow. Even the elderly can watch reruns of "Columbo."\nThe aching, TV-shaped void in my soul prompted me to seek medical attention. I went to the health center and I was diagnosed with mono. Mono and a dangerously low level of "America's Next Top Model."\nRegardless of studies that suggest TV can be linked to stupidity, I need to watch at least six straight months of television just to get back on track. All sleeping, eating and spiritual healing must be set aside.\nI want to skate or dance or do whatever it is they do with the stars. I must see acts of desperation from various housewives. Think of how many antique shoehorns whose appraisals I have yet to guess.