The Revolution Will Not Be Televised

A few nights ago, I went to a dinner party where I knew only two of the nearly two dozen guests. Although normally those odds would leave me with a case of gripping party fear and cause me to call the host with a sudden and contagious case of the whooping cough, I felt like I couldn't back out of a dinner party -- and besides, it's a great way to force me to practice my ever languishing small talk skills.

It turns out a number of people were in the same boat, knowing only the hostess and maybe one other person. Thus, it was little surprise when my table -- yes, there were multiple tables -- had a hard time getting conversation going. It seemed like each attempt to make polite conversation was, quite incredibly, worse than the last. Talk of politics drifted into talk of the Octomom, which should have been lighthearted. But that ended abruptly with a comment about abortion. Someone tried to switch topics by talking about Rihanna and Chris Brown, which lead to a story about a domestic violence victim killed by her boyfriend. Which in turn led one guest to say that the only thing worse was to talk about human trafficking -- which she then used as a segue to talk about...human trafficking.

You could blame the fact that we don't know each other. Or you could blame it all on me -- truth be told, I was the one who brought the conversation to a grinding stop with comments about abortion and homicide. (Okay -- so the small talk skills are really languishing.) But frankly, I blame television -- or lack thereof.

None of this would have been a problem if the other people at the table actually watched television. When I tried to talk about Top Chef -- a perfect topic for a dinner party, and a chance to trot out phrases like "flavor profiles" and molecular gastronomy -- everyone stared at me blankly. Nor had anyone seen the Today Show's extensive coverage of the Octomom (featuring Ann Curry), including the pre-Angelina Jolie photos, where she looked like an average person.

When I tried to steer the conversation to the safe, popular topic of television, no one would bite. One person said -- as I so often hear these days -- oh, I never, ever watch television. And that was that. No one else would speak up and admit they even own a television, let alone occasionally watch the thing. Except for me. I responded -- Oh, I love television so much I want to marry it (or something like that).

Over the years, there's always been one person in a crowd who'll say they don't own a television, or don't own a dress, or whatever. I expect that. There's always an elbow-patch intellectual or tree-hugging hippie in every crowd. But when did the tide turn. What happened to all my tivo-loving friends, who see no problem with accidentally getting sucked into an America's Next Top Model marathon. When did it become so bourgeois for regular folk to admit to watching television? And if no one is watching television, who are all the people out there on the Internet writing passionately about Lost?

Whatever. There's no shame in watching The Mentalist. (Okay, maybe a little shame, but not enough to stop watching.) So, the next social function I attend where someone proudly says they don't watch television, I'm going to proudly respond that I watch television. That I'm addicted to television. And then, I'm going to admit that most days I drive the whopping 13 blocks to work instead of walking, that I watched The Real Housewives reunion instead of the presidential address, and that I have, on a few occasions, worn a pair of socks twice without washing.

At least that will get the conversation going.