The Conglomerate Lode

Due to watching T.V. late into the night, deep sleep evaded me so by this morning, blah.  Going through my morning ritual I figured coffee will do the trick so with a few cups in me and Alfred gone to work I settled in for a morning read.  With Smokey Joe snoring next to me on the loveseat, no doubt resting for the busy day ahead, I crack open Sports in America by James A. Michener and begin reading.  Michener wrote this in 1976 and although an “about face” of what he usual writes I bought I anyway from the local library.  Michener is a favorite and even he combined with coffee is not adequate in removing the cloudbank over my head so, I turn to that which caused my dilemma, television.

Nothing on local news except traffic, weather, and pope stuff but on the DISCOVERY CHANNEL I see an aged yet athletic Tim Conway bounding up stairs to a stage in the round with live audience and sits next to our hosts, one man, one woman.  Now, Mr. Conway can just say, “good morning” and you are down on the ground laughing so as he goes on with some belly busting stories our hosts are heard laughing over the audience the man with a deep, base sounding chuckle something you expect from a country singer.  I continue watching as Tim Conway is a favorite and so far so good but the man still laughs and when the camera pans to the hosts it looks as though they are forcing themselves.  I do not know but then the talk turns serious and I discover that this is the 700 Club, oops time to change the channel.

I stopped my search on a commercial for high-speed internet at just 19.99 and because I used to work for a cable TV, internet, and phone provider my interest peeks.  The announcer, in high-spirited tone, continues that this fabulous offer service must be bundled with phone yet gives no features or benefits not to mention the cost of the phone and the entire package.  I laugh at the prospect that someone out there will switch, which is said to be easy, without thinking.

With the level of service we have, just basic, I end up on a station know as THIS and watch the tail of a Rex Harrison movie, one of his comedies, shot around 1945.  As three-quarters of the movie has played I put together it is about a dead wife coming back to haunt him for some reason I never find out but I linger with the show until it is over.  Looking at the wall clock it is nearing my time to head over to the local gym spirits awaken and stop a moment to ponder what Mr. Michener might think of television more powerful than his book?