The “Stranger” and His “Wife”

A Real Culture Killer

A friend, T.D., of this blog recently sent us an email containing the following story essay. This article may have been circulating about and around in cyberspace, Thankfully it has made a safe landing here on A Good Choice. I did not try to find the origin of this article.

"A few years after I was born, my dad met a stranger who was new to our small town. From the beginning, Dad was fascinated with this enchanting newcomer and soon invited him to live with our family. The stranger was quickly accepted and was around from then on.

"As I grew up, I never questioned his place in my family. In my young mind, he had a special niche. My parents were complementary instructors: Mom taught me good from evil, and Dad taught me to obey. But the stranger... he was our storyteller. He would keep us spellbound for hours on end with adventures, mysteries, and comedies.

"If I wanted to know anything about politics, history or science, he always knew the answers about the past, understood the present and even seemed able to predict the future! He took my family to the first major league ball game. He made me laugh, and he made me cry. The stranger never stopped talking, but Dad didn't seem to mind.

"Sometimes, Mom would get up quietly while the rest of us were shushing each other to listen to what he had to say, and she would go to the kitchen for peace and quiet. (I wonder now if she ever prayed for the stranger to leave.)

"Dad ruled our household with certain moral convictions, but the stranger never felt obligated to honor them. Profanity, for example, was not allowed in our home... not from us, our friends or any visitors. Our longtime visitor, however, got away with four-letter words that burned my ears and made my dad squirm and my mother blush.

"My dad didn't permit the liberal use of alcohol. But the stranger encouraged us to try it on a regular basis. He made cigarettes look cool, cigars manly, and pipes distinguished. He talked freely (much too freely) about sex. His comments were sometimes blatant, sometimes suggestive, and generally embarrassing.

"I now know that my early concepts about relationships were influenced strongly by the stranger. Time after time, he opposed the values of my parents, yet he was seldom rebuked...And NEVER was asked to leave.

"More than fifty years have passed since the stranger moved in with our family. He has blended right in and is not nearly as fascinating as he was at first. If you could walk into my parents' den today, you would still find him sitting over in his corner, waiting for someone to listen to him talk and watch him draw his pictures. His name?

"We just called him "TV."

"Note: This should be required reading for every household in America!

"He has a wife now...We call her "Computer"."

There is a lot of truth to this little story. TV was a mind-numbing drug-like escapism opiate for me for many years. The last 2 or 3 years I have lived without any TV hookup. I have not missed it. I have spent the last year and a half blogging on A Good Choice. This has been a far better use of my time than the inane and glowingly and growingly profane offerings on the hedonistic, humanistic networks.

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I firmly believe that television overall has done more harm than good. It has negatively impacted our culture. It has nearly no redeeming value. This is especially true during the so-called “prime-time” evening programing, which might be better referred to nowadays as "slime time."