Battle of the Sexes: Who Watches Worse Television?

I’m unsure why more funding is not funneled into this critical research. It could be the key that turns the lock which opens the door to the mysterious cellar which contains the answer to the question: Who is stupider, men or women? I’m not going to waste pages of cyberspace covering every I.Q. point-melting program each sex enjoys, largely because there are many television shows women love that I wouldn’t be caught dead in the same room with. “The Bachelor” and “The Bachelorette” to name two. I mean come the fuck on. I’ll focus on the family room within my own home because it is what I know, and things that I don’t know scare me. I wouldn’t recognize a foreign reality show or a Honey Boo Boo if either walked into the room and sat on my face. I am intimately familiar with one female favorite owing to several factors. It occurs on Sunday night and I’m just not in a mentally strong position on Sunday nights owing to the looming Monday work anxiety. My wife has made this a line-in-the-sand issue and beyond this line you do not cross. Lastly for me it is similar to meditation because I can drift off into the ether and lower my heart rate and brain waves to coma levels.

Emily Thorne may look your garden variety hot, young, single billionaire woman with no real explanation for her wealth. But Emily Thorne has a dark secret and an unquenchable, vampire-like thirst for Revenge. She is also a classically trained ninja under the tutelage of one of the great modern Senseis of Japan. Emily bought a luxury estate in the Hamptons in the shadow of Grayson Manor. Was it coincidence that Emily bought the estate within a short beach walk of the first family of the Hamptons? If you think yes, may as well stop reading because you’re an asshole. This is where things become deliciously intriguing and ever so sexy. Aided at all forks and turns in the road by her bisexual, silicon valley titan, fellow multi-billionaire Nolan Ross of NolCorp, he of the fabulous collection of silk fashion scarves and whimsical sport coats (to quote from the Revenge website: “Most notably, Nolan provides assistance to Emily in the areas of electronic surveillance and espionage and keeps Emily’s childhood friend and current secret love, Jack Porter, out of harm’s way……”), they plot their come uppance against the Graysons and their shadowy puppet masters who masterminded the framing of Emily’s father for terrorism and his eventual murder, the father who also served as lovable uncle figure and seed investor in Nolan’s corporate empire. This is serious fucking business. Emily is thwarted at every goddamned turn by her arch nemesis and father’s former lover Victoria Grayson and her scumbag husband Conrad Grayson. Oh how I loathe that Conrad Grayson! Even the plot twists have plot twists in this emotional roller coaster of a clusterfuck television drama. When a fake sibling and new mother dies tragically, a real but long-lost sibling shows up out of the blue to take her place. Just when you think Conrad can’t possibly have another affair and wave it blatantly in Victoria’s face, he fucks the publicist! Emily is marrying Daniel Grayson for Revenge rather than love and Victoria smells a rat. Emily is supposed to get fake shot by Victoria but gets real shot by her newlywed husband Daniel and has real-fake amnesia and Jack Porter is falling in love with the young French media maverick but maybe he kinda likes Emily even though he also kinda hates her and he also might fuck up the entire Revenge plot with his guilty conscience and Jesus Christ on a Bike I’m out of breath! This is not the type of script writing where you wonder if the whole team takes acid to reach this level of creative genius like South Park. The writers on this squad clearly get drunk, down and dirty cheap gin drunk, and start shouting out “What if a ninja runs into the wedding and round-house kicks the bride in the tits!?!?!?!?” And the room erupts into cheers and calls for more gin and tonics. People fucking watch this, I shit you not. They actual factual sit down and turn this on and they hope it never ends. Emily achieving Revenge is like the worst thing that could ever happen because then the wild ride that is the pursuit of Revenge will be over forever.

Like millions of other brilliant men maximizing their free time, I watch fucking sports. Manly sports. Football, basketball, European soccer, 4 hour and 53 minute baseball games in May with a beautiful spring night outside my door and my kid wanting to play with me. Man shit. Sorry sweetpea, I’d love to go outside and ride bicycles but Clay Bucholz is shaking off the signs for the 43rd time. This may well be a fucking slider, we won’t know for another 9 seconds. One thing I’m especially into are college sports. Teams populated by 18-22 year old kids. Kids I have never met playing for a college I didn’t go to (In my defense the college I went to has teams that don’t play in very big games and are on TV rarely, and I grew up in proximity to the school I do root for and have tons of relatives who did go there, and fuck off I don’t need to justify myself to you anyway dick), and I’m dead-balls serious about it. When they lose a meaningless game I’m pissed. When they lose an important game I’m pissed and depressed. When they lose an important game against a team I hate, I’m pissed, I’m depressed, I’m mean to people who are being nice to me, and I let this go on for days. Unlike pissing away an hour of a Sunday night watching someone seek Revenge, I spend valuable, productive hours watching kids who could care less if I live or die play a game for no money and then I let it emotionally influence my life for 24-48 hours after. That is what being a goddamned grown ass man is all about baby. I don’t watch sports; I watch life. I watch others make life happen while I make nothing happen watching them. If that is wrong then I don’t want to be right. The Red Sox win the World Series! I live in Chicago! There are no Red Sox fans near me in Chicago! I’m watching the game in my living room with no other fans! I’m not even drunk! My wife gave me a pity high-five! I have to go to work tomorrow, early! Its the same job I don’t like! I’ve invested nearly 100 hours to the postseason this year! The Red Sox are winners! I watch them win! I’m a winner too, right! Right?

The arguments are laid before you, reader. What is your vote? Which sex watches the more mind-numbing, productivity killing, energy sapping television?

About Zach

Male homo sapien. Warrior poet. I live in Chicago with one wife, one offspring, and Scout the dog. I enjoy various stuff. Besides skinny skiing and going to bullfights on acid, I also enjoy running, reading, drinking, eating and procrastinating on many things, such as starting this blog. I have a mom, a dad, and a younger brother who recently produced a sister-in-law. I'm the only person in my family, sister-in-law included, who doesn't have a post-graduate degree. I guess that makes me special. I grew up in a small to medium sized town in the middle of Ohio. In fact the even smaller town next door has a sign which reads "The Geographic Center of Ohio". Given this is what they choose to boast you can only imagine how exciting that town is. My town is infinitely cooler. For example on weekend nights people from my town and the surrounding villages and hamlets converge on the public square to "cruise" in their souped-up mini trucks, some bearing Confederate flags, despite growing up and living rather safely north of the Mason-Dixon line. This is high-minded stuff we're talking about here. I graduated sometime during the Clinton presidency from the local high school where I played football and participated in absolutely nothing else. This strategy paid huge dividends when I applied to numerous colleges on the eastern seaboard which were highly selective. When you show up to the admissions table with "HIgh School Football and Nothing Else" on your application, you get respect. After graduating from Ohio University with a degree in Economics that I've used for absolutely nothing, I moved to Boston. Boston is a lovely city. I was doing things I'm not proud of for beer money and I left after 16 months. My next move was to Chicago and 10+ years later there I still reside. I write this blog for therapeutic reasons. Much like some people paint to relax or smoke crack to unwind after a stressful day, I record my thoughts on Al Gore's World Wide Web for 9 friends, 4 family members, 1 person who accidentally clicked through after an unsuccessful Google search for something else, and a guy named Patriot1 who lives in a silver Air Stream in the Nevada desert and broadcasts his own radio show. Is there a point to all of this? I doubt it. Years ago and in a galaxy far, far away (College Park, Maryland, then Athens, Ohio) I was toying with the idea of being a journalism major. I enjoyed writing so it seemed the obvious fit. Then I attended career day and learned that journalism majors could look forward to a salary of $EA,TSH.IT per year with the promise of a fatal heart attack at 47 years of age. I'm not falling for that trick, I told them (them being no one, and told being saying it in my own mind in the shower). Approximately 15 years later here I sit declared the big winner in that battle: I never made any money doing anything else and now I'm writing entirely for free. So suck balls, journalism career day. The views expressed in this website are mine and mine entirely. I don't wish to be an even bigger black eye to my family than I probably already am. As a result of this I will never be able to run for public office and I accept that reality. But this website is a very dignified, well-dressed skeleton full of witty retorts and honorable deeds compared to the disheveled, stenching, staggering and loud skeletons who would come marching out of the closet to White Zombie's "Thunderkiss '65" if they ever unearthed the college years. So enjoy your train ride, your hangover day at work, your AA meeting or your dump. I'm here to serve.
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