Television (November)

Millennials, people tell me in hushed tones, have never known a world without computers. I feel like replying in husheds, I have never known a world without television, but refrain out of respect. It’s the night (Australian time) of the American election, a choice between a Chicago lawyer and the Prince of Lies. Out walking the cool November streets I see people through their picture windows watching the contest. What does it all mean? Or on computers, which are just interactive televisions with millions of channels; newspapers with too many digressions, footnotes, and pictorial matter. Outside, the air is fresh.

Television (March)

The case of the television remains unsolved, as it lies in a ditch by the railway line. Its innards of miniature veins and tubes poured out and have long since weathered down. Links with other televisions seen abandoned on nearby nature strips are yet to be confirmed. Leads are missing. The usual channels have dried up. Indoors certain suspects are blank-faced. Their alibis are thin. They were safe at home at the time (“March…”), picking up on history documentaries about built-in obsolescence. The look they return is moving but opaque. Investigations are continuing. Meanwhile, related cases sell online as collectibles.