Marathons that don’t involve miles

Years ago, I read a quote of George Bernard Shaw’s that essentially said: When he was young,… Years ago, I read a quote of George Bernard Shaw’s that essentially said: When he was young, he realized that he failed at nine out of 10 things he tried. Not wanting to be a failure, he increased his output tenfold.

We’re all aware of Shaw’s point — it gnaws at us. We know that we should be writing, painting, singing, and even cleaning the house instead of just caving in and being entertained at the end of a long day. It is precisely that knowledge which makes the TV marathon the deliciously sinful act of apathetic rebellion it is.

There are several good ways to watch marathon TV. The novice should begin with the network-constructed marathon — two days of nothing but “The X-Files” on Sci Fi would work. During such an event the novice ought to practice his alternate show selection and flipping skills.

Those skills are essential for the impromptu marathon. The impromptu marathon can be triggered by a bad day, a good day or simply by noticing that there will be a mini-marathon (three or more back-to-back episodes of one show) already happening that day. In the event of a mini-marathon, the challenge is to prolong it with other shows selected by a similar or entirely opposite theme.

In my younger days when I was stronger-willed and marathoned more, I decided that game shows were the conversational lag of a proper marathon. Sometimes — especially with only 50 channels to choose from — you hit a bit of a hole. The game show will fill that hole, but it’s damning evidence of inadequate marathoning skills.

I watched television to live the lives of other people. Game shows are not true television. They’re just formulas for entertainment to be watched while waiting for reruns of “Boy Meets World” to begin.

When reality television was first brought to my attention, I knew instantly that it was evil — Jack the Ripper, Jar Jar Binks, “Godsend” evil. I told this to everyone I met and made a great deal of it. I got bored with the arguments and moved on.

Still, my fundamental objection remains: Reality television seeks profit by making popular all that is trite and desperate about our society. That’s hardly a novel thing for television to do, but these aren’t actors. While the shows may be scripted, they’re not exactly crafted. The one point all of these shows make is that the only thing uniting every single United States citizen is a lack of dignity.

The barriers inherent in creating and enjoying the written word have kept it comparatively pure of any such wide-scale, interactive dilution of human decency. Or so I had thought.

Enter Grouphug (http://grouphug.us). The site allows users to post and read anonymous confessions. Topics confessed range from what we’d all expect: infidelity, suicidal thoughts, cheating on tests, etc., to the less expected: struggles with sexual identity, pets still missed after 20 years, a lifetime of unwanted virginity and dressing up as Peter Pan.

For some reason, whatever it is in me that finds reality television offensive, finds Grouphug glorious. I can read it for hours. I don’t care if people make up the stories — in fact, I often hope they do.

I could try to argue that there’s a qualitative difference between Grouphug and reality television. I could say that it’s an honest and direct forum, while reality television is contrived. But if they named a reality-TV show “Stoned, Naked, and Looking in my Neighbor’s Window,” I’d probably watch it.

That just happens to be the title of a book of Grouphug’s greatest confessions published last year. So, I’m forced to wonder if I hate “American Idol” and all it embodies because it’s corrosive, or only because it’s nauseating.

E-mail Zak Sharif at rzs8@pitt.edu once you’ve confessed on Grouphug.