Buy an antenna. I’m not going to insult your intelligence by assuming you have cable. No one is that old stupid, amiright?
Turn on a network station. This will prevent you from stumbling across the Kardashians or Property Brothers or some other abomination.
Walk away and do things you need to get done. The laundry. Dinner. After-hours work. Anything. Reality TV pairs well with it all. When Luke P. throws bologna at another contestant (or uses his “religion” to slut-shame the best Bachelorette in history) you can shuffle back to the screen and catch it all, while still feeling like you didn’t miss a thing.
Change the channel when Sean Spicer dances. Yes, he was cast in this year’s Dancing with the Stars. Barf. It’s part of his forgiveness tour. But listen, I’m not gonna say it as well as feminist queen and thank-God-she-is-a-public-servant Kirsten Gillibrand, but it needs to be said. Sean, if you want to receive forgiveness, you have to fucking apologize. Just say that all the lying, misdirecting, and obfuscation that you committed as Press Secretary was detrimental to the people and the Republic. Use the words, “I am sorry.” Take fucking responsibility. Then we will consider, after banishment from public view for 2 to 5 years, allowing you back into our consciousness. But maybe, just maybe, lying to the public against its interest does not qualify you as a “star” or a “celebrity” and you should stop, just stop, trying to crawl your way back into our short attention spans.
You could also #BoycottDWTS. Assholes. And to think I almost watched that fucking show.