My sainted wife turns on the kitchen TV first thing in the morning while her coffee boils in her antique 1950s-era glass percolator. Not for anything pleasant, like a favorite episode of the Rockford Files or Murder, She Wrote, but for the "news."
And New York news comes on. Who can possibly give a crap about another shooting in the Bronx or a mugging in Queens? Well, for one, not me. I turn on MY TV and watch a soothing episode of Poirot. I sip my boiled-free Mr. Coffee coffee. My day awakens pleasantly, free of horrible goings-ons that have no bearing on my life in places where I do not live.
I spit on New York. And their daily depressing - and mostly invented - "news." Call me callous, call me a curmudgeon, but you can't call me depressed first thing in the morning.
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