The Morte de Television continues tonight, as NBC airs the final two pre-strike episodes of Chuck. I would say that I’m watching them, but I’ll probably TiVo them instead, and ration them out a few minutes at a time, like a nuclear-war survivor parceling out his remaining stash of tinned beans. Rolling it over my tongue, eyes closed, savoring not just the food itself but the past that it represents–what things were like before the world went mad, when children played in the park and you could see the sun in the sky.
Then, a week from now, Lost will come back and I’ll forget Chuck ever existed. But until then, it’ll be just a little sad.