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When people ask me why I do not watch television, I usually begin with the practical answer. I live nine miles from town, at the end of a dirt road, where cable is not available. Why don’t I get a satellite dish? Because if I were in possession of 200 television channels, I would sit in an upholstered chair for hours surfing from one to the next until my head housed a whole convention of televangelists, Mafiosos, American idols and amorous emergency room doctors, all vying for my attention. I know this is true because it has actually happened to me in hotel rooms around the country.