Mr. Teavee is such an idiot

Found this awesome piece of verse from Roald Dahl's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

The most important thing we've learned,
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
Them near your television set --
Or better still, just don't install
The idiotic thing at all.
In almost every house we've been,
We've watched them gaping at the screen.
They loll and slop and lounge about,
And stare until their eyes pop out.
(Last week in someone's place we saw
A dozen eyeballs on the floor.)
They sit and stare and stare and sit
Until they're hypnotised by it,
Until they're absolutely drunk
With all that shocking ghastly junk.
Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,
They don't climb out the window sill,
They never fight or kick or punch,
They leave you free to cook the lunch
And wash the dishes in the sink --
But did you ever stop to think,
To wonder just exactly what
This does to your beloved tot?
IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD!
IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!
IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!
IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND
HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND
A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!
HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!
HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE!
HE CANNOT THINK -- HE ONLY SEES!
'All right!' you'll cry. 'All right!' you'll say,
'But if we take the set away,
What shall we do to entertain
Our darling children? Please explain!'
We'll answer this by asking you,
'What used the darling ones to do?
'How used they keep themselves contented
Before this monster was invented?'
Have you forgotten? Don't you know?
We'll say it very loud and slow:
THEY ... USED ... TO ... READ! They'd READ and READ,
AND READ and READ, and then proceed
To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!
One half their lives was reading books!
The nursery shelves held books galore!
Books cluttered up the nursery floor!
And in the bedroom, by the bed,
More books were waiting to be read!
Such wondrous, fine, fantastic tales
Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales
And treasure isles, and distant shores
Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars,
And pirates wearing purple pants,
And sailing ships and elephants,
And cannibals crouching 'round the pot,
Stirring away at something hot.
(It smells so good, what can it be?
Good gracious, it's Penelope.)
The younger ones had Beatrix Potter
With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,
And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,
And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and-
Just How The Camel Got His Hump,
And How the Monkey Lost His Rump,
And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,
There's Mr. Rat and Mr. Mole-
Oh, books, what books they used to know,
Those children living long ago!
So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,
Go throw your TV set away,
And in its place you can install
A lovely bookshelf on the wall.
Then fill the shelves with lots of books,
Ignoring all the dirty looks,
The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,
And children hitting you with sticks-
Fear not, because we promise you
That, in about a week or two
Of having nothing else to do,
They'll now begin to feel the need
Of having something to read.
And once they start -- oh boy, oh boy!
You watch the slowly growing joy
That fills their hearts. They'll grow so keen
They'll wonder what they'd ever seen
In that ridiculous machine,
That nauseating, foul, unclean,
Repulsive television screen!
And later, each and every kid
Will love you more for what you did.

The Man who walked around the world

Your comments, please.

Yes, ladies & gentlemen. It's been four years since I first introduced myself to bloggers at Livejournal, which was incidentally my first attempt at blogging. But 4 blogs and 218 posts later, little seems to have changed. The number of comments over the years has at best experienced a very modest, toned-down version of the 'Hindu Rate of Growth'. Maybe it's a good time for a review.

Initially, I was very kicked about maintaining a blog. I would look forward to writing a new post. I'd collect all my thoughts, revise all my puns, note down all pop-art or newsworthy references, all this while the BSNL dial-up struggled for ignition. After the blog was updated, there would be a joblist to be completed, which would encompass a 360-degree marketing activity. Casually mention the blog. Check. Rave about your latest post. Check. Refer to the 'one' funny comment on your blog. Check. Upload link on your Gtalk status. Check. Post link on an Orkut community. Check. Send link as a forward to dad. Check. This process went on for six months. Then on one fateful day, I stopped caring about my blog. And then I've always looked back ever since.

Now when I think about it, I realise why this blog has never been so comment-friendly. A guy who is in denial about his age, who is completely incapable of political opinion, who's not graduated from the musical collection of his college days, who's read Harry Potter a decade after it was a rage, who still laughs at his occasional pun, and whose Facebook Status draws more comments than his blog obviously doesn't have enough going on in his life to talk about. That pretty much puts this case to rest.

Now for the way forward. May be an insight or two from the 'Target Group' will give me an idea - a cliched line from the advertising industry that refuses to go out of vogue. From my recollection, blogs that boast of millions of comments belong to:

A) Celebrities
B) Women
C) Both of the above (Damn, this reminds me of my engineering entrance exam. When in doubt, mark C)

Now things are starting to get clearer. 17 days of determined contemplation, and my path becomes crystal-clear to me. I should assume a feminine non de plume. And stay anonymous. That's it. That way, I could be mistaken for any one of the above categories. I can safely write about some seriously earth-shattering topics like what I had for breakfast, what I had for a drink and where, and how I hate toddlers in aeroplanes, and how I hate cats and dogs, and how I hate nosey male bloggers who have absolutely nothing to offer to this world but for their comments on my blog. Oh boy, I cannot wait to read the comments that will flow from then on. Score!