Columnist Scott Dickensheets: Family ties tested by Must-Flee TV

Scott Dickensheets

Sunday, March 22, 1998 | 9:31 a.m.

SCOTT DICKENSHEETS' column appears Tuesdays, Fridays and Sundays. He can be reached at 259-4082 or dickens@lasvegassun.com.

I GAVE up TV for the usual reasons -- my wife made me. Well, she didn't really make me, she challenged me. Well, she didn't actually challenge me, she tricked me. The other day, after a wide-ranging philosophical debate on the medium's devious influence and cultural hegemony -- "You watch too much TV!" "Nuh uh!" -- she bet I couldn't live without it for two weeks.

I listened, aghast, as my mouth said, "I can too!"

And so the die was cast. No TV is an awwww-inspiring proposition. It's like losing your best friend, closest advisor and most reliable babysitter all at once. A family without TV is like a bunch of people sitting in a room with little to do but talk to each other.

The ground rules were simple: Each of us could choose one show a week for the family to watch. Here then, my journal of a plague week:

Day One

"That's why we're doing this," my oldest son lashes out. "So you can get a column out of it!" Why, that's crazy talk, boy! Clearly the MTV deprivation is getting to him. Less than 24 hours into this thing and already we're descending into some hellish "Lord of the Flies" scenario of mounting savagery.

"I hate this," one of the kids snarls. Hey, I agree. Somewhere out there, Mulder and Scully are solving a rerun without a key member of their team -- me. Like an amputee, I twitch my thumb on a remote that isn't there.

Meanwhile, the boys grope for loopholes -- the 5-year-old attempts to define "a show" as "an entire 'Rugrats' marathon." Luckily, we discover an important survival technique: ping pong. There's just enough arm room in the garage to accommodate a passable game. We play -- what, oodles? tons? scads? -- of ping pong.

Day Two

It's quiet in the house. Too quiet. Even when you're not really watching it, TV lends a comforting, convivial hum of human presence to the house. It's like having a conversation partner you don't actually have to listen to. Absent that, an ominous, lonely silence can fill the place.

But -- surprise -- we're adapting. Although my oldest son misses the Cartoon Violence Network and the Gangsta Rap Channel, he admits that he enjoys that we all pay attention to each other. Plus, he keeps whipping me at ping pong.

Meanwhile, I've been amazed at my time savings; hour-long blocks of my life that once disappeared into daily "Simpsons" reruns are now ready to be put to better use.

I go to the kitchen table. I turn on my laptop. I start working.

Day Three

My wife is on the phone.

"This only reinforces my idea that no TV is a good thing," she says.

"What?" I ask.

"Do you know what your youngest son just brought me? A drawing he did of a man with black spots all over him. I asked what the black spots were. He said, 'This is a man who's been shot 23 times!' He sees too much violence on TV." Whoa! I had no idea "Rugrats" was so brutal.

We play more ping pong.

Day Four

"While I still hate this," one of the kids says, "I like that we're all playing ping pong and stuff all the time."

Day Five

So far, no one has picked a show to watch.

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