My TiVo is a Gentile. I mean it; the damn thing's gone all Goy on me. And believe me, you shouldn't know from it.

The whole mess started about a month ago when TiVo entered my life. I should’ve guessed that TiVo was going to be “difficult” when I discovered it was just a hair too big for my entertainment center. Then again, hindsight is always 15/20, or 20/20 with Lasik. Besides, after a extreme makeover of my setup which saw the DVD player switch places with the VCR and the stereo relocated to the shelf where I keep my assortment of dead remote controls, TiVo was up and running. Was it ever.

TiVo, you see, has a feature where it studies your viewing habits and then suggests other programs that it feels you might be interested in, sometimes going so far as to actually record these programs for you. So after about two weeks of typical Rob Bloom viewing patterns (“hey hon, it’s the Puffy Shirt episode. Come watch this!” and “Is this the episode where Nanny Fine makes a pass at Mr. Sheffield?”), you can imagine my surprise when I scrolled through TiVo’s library and discovered what the device had been recording behind my back. I’m warning you right now. What I found was shocking. Disappointing. Upsetting.

My TiVo had crossed into The Gentile Zone.

[Cue “Amazing Grace”]

You see, instead of suggesting programs that were related to what I had been watching,

TiVo was recording what IT wanted: Gentile Television. Bizarre images flashed on my TV screen, displaying this foreign land where characters drink a lot of beer, have tool sheds in their backyard, and find humor in jokes that begin with 'You might be a redneck if…'. Oh and also in this strange land, men spend A LOT of time on their cars. When they’re not working on them, they’re talking about them.

MAN 1:           Nice ride you got there. (takes swing of beer, sloshes it around, swallows slowly through gritted teeth) What year is she?

MAN 2:           ’65. I just finished restoring her. (sweat droplets fall from his forehead as he takes a long swig of his beer) I put in a new carburetor, transmission, battery, oil filter, radiator, drive shaft and a new engine, which I built from scratch out of set of batteries, a ball of rubber bands and a can of SPAM.

MAN 1:           So what’re you gonna do now? (sips beer, grunts, adjusts crotch)

MAN 2:           Take it all apart, then put her back together.

(They toast each other and chug their beers)

Seriously, this is TV?!? Where was “Seinfeld”? “Curb Your Enthusiasm”? Woody Allen? And why, for the love of everything neurotically Jewish, was TiVo giving me countless episodes of “7th Heaven”, “Mama’s Family”, and what was this…Larry the Cable Guy?

TiVo had fired the first round of shots in its rebellion against Jewish entertainment…and I was pissed. Where were the characters I could relate to? The plots that mirrored my own experiences? C’mon, I wasn’t asking for much. Just the basics:

a)      The series should be set in a culturally and ethnically diverse city such as New York.

b)      “Such as”? The series IS set in New York.

c)      One or more of the main characters must be neurotic, whiny, or desperately wanting to get married.

d)      At least 17 minutes of one sitcom episode must revolve around a pastry, bread product, or deli sandwich…and a character’s resulting allergic reaction to one of these items.

e)      All of the above

f)        A, B, C but not D

g)      Who am I kidding? As long as there’s the occasional Yiddish-ism thrown out, I’m a satisfied viewer!

I wanted New York but I was getting Salt Lake. Something needed to be done. I tried to be patient with TiVo, giving it more time to learn about and understand my preferences. Anytime I was flipping channels and saw Jon Stewart or Fran Drescher, I'd gently encourage TiVo by pressing the Thumbs Up button. Mel Brooks: Thumbs Up. Adam Sandler: Thumbs Up. Moe, Larry, Curly: Up, Up, Up. It was my way of telling TiVo, "Hey buddy. This is the type of stuff I'm interested in watching. Now be a mensch and record this for me." Similarly, giving a Thumbs Down to "Little House on the Prairie" was my way of saying, "Never EVER tape a show about a guy named John Boy who drinks milk with dinner."

Foolishly, I thought I was actually getting through to my spunky nemesis. And then last Friday happened: TiVo had recorded, I hope you’re sitting down, five episodes of “Hee Haw.” Consider that TiVo’s way of telling me “Go sit on a Driedel. I’ll tape whatever the hell I want!”)

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not a Jew-litist. You know, the type of person who blindly supports Jewish entertainers, regardless of their qualifications (“who cares if she’s got a unibrow, a wonky eye and a beard, she should’ve been cast in the lead! She’s one of US!”). No no, I’m not a Jewcy snob at all. I’m an entertainment snob. You see, “Hee Haw” doesn’t appeal to me, not because it’s the very epitome of Goyish TV where cast members dress in coveralls and straw hats and say things like “I’m fixin’ to git me some vittles”, but because it’s bad writing, bad acting, and all-around bad television! Nevertheless, the Jew in me is fine with this dreck. It’s the writer in me that wants to strangle myself with the nearest pair of coveralls.

So where does this leave me? I’ve got a rebellious TiVo that wants nothing to do with my culture and seems intent on converting me to become a fan of Gentile Television. Either that or TiVo wants to make me so crazy that I lose my mind and wind up doing something TOTALLY NUTS, like working on my car. Whatever the case, it seems that that I’m doomed to continue this ongoing battle.

And do you know what’s the worst part about my TiVo box? I paid retail for it.

 

Rob Bloom is a humor writer, screenwriter, cartoonist, and professional
wrestling fan. A Project Greenlight semi-finalist (no, he didn't get to meet
Matt or Ben), Rob has written for the Cartoon Network, National Public
Radio, Fresh Yarn and others. He has been named "Humor Writer of the Month"
by the Erma Bombeck Writing Workshop and "Our Brilliant, Creative Boychick"
by his completely unbiased parents.

Rob lives in Philadelphia with his wife and pro wrestling DVD collection. To
read more of his work, visit www.robbloom.com/creative.html.