It’s been a zombifying week here at Insurgent Headquarters.

     A couple of weeks ago, ‘Alaskan In Exile’ columnist Neil Zawicki wrote about National TV Turn-off Week. In his column, Neil described “ ... the class of people who use television as the infrastructure of their social and cultural lives”, characterizing them as victims of a generational erosion of intellect who have blurred the lines between TV and reality.

     “Oh, Neil ... ”, I thought to myself when I read it, “ ... you beautiful cynic.” While I agreed with him that serial TV watchers are indeed a sad, sad breed, I couldn’t help but wonder if this phenomenon was being overblown. I mean, how many of these TV zombies could there possibly be? I don’t know any. Here in Alaska, I thought, we have much better things to do with our time than sit indoors in front of the idiot box (like hiking, fishing, and spending sleepless nights worrying that the state legislature is going to turn our state into a giant ‘white’s only’ casino, for instance).

     Then, last Wednesday night, I went out for a beer with a friend. We decided to patronize Humpy’s, the wildly popular downtown bar known for its vast collection of local, domestic, and imported beers.

     Unfortunately, Humpy’s also has a vast collection of TVs. They’re everywhere, dozens of them, hanging from every corner of the bar. I guess I never really noticed them much before; they are usually broadcasting some sort of sporting event with the volume turned off and don’t seem to provide much competition for the excellent beer and live music to be found at Humpy’s. But this night, something was different.

     My friend and I had only been seated for a few minutes and were carefully perusing the beer list when a young woman approached us. She was wearing a black t-shirt that said “Lost” and was cradling in one arm a giant, hollowed out tiki doll reminiscent of that episode where the Brady Bunch goes to Hawaii (okay, okay ... I  have seen the occasional TV show but, come on, that episode is a classic). It turned out that her tiki doll contained raffle tickets, which she was passing out for a drawing to be held later in the evening. We each took a ticket and asked her what the prizes might be. “Oh, you know ... t-shirts and hats and stuff”, she replied, “tonight is ‘Lost’ night at Humpy’s, we’re going to be giving out prizes during the commercials”. She trotted away and my friend and I looked at each other dumbfounded.

     Moments later, our worst fears were confirmed when the music abruptly halted, all of the TVs in the bar went suddenly black, and an emcee came over the PA system. “Are you ready for tonight’s episode of  ‘Lost’ on ABC, everybody?! Remember, you could win a trip to Hawaii during the season finale!”

     Then, eerily, the TVs all flickered back to life one by one and, for an entire hour, a bar full of perhaps a hundred people sat there and fell into a communal state of mind-numbed silence, watching ABC’s ‘Lost’.

     “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me”, my friend muttered, sipping his beer and glancing around at the sea of people who were, until a moment ago, laughing and talking with one another. The TV was in charge now.

     And so we sat.

     And watched.

     Not ‘Lost’, mind you (which I quickly deduced to be some sort of island-themed soap opera where the characters do little but make remarks to each other which are somehow cryptic and stupid at the same time), but at the incredible, unexpected phenomenon which was unfolding before our eyes. We watched people yell out when their favorite character appeared on the screen. We watched people gasp when an unexpected plot twist caught them off-guard. We watched people excitedly high-five their friends after winning a ‘Lost’ t-shirt during the commercial break. We watched a guy with an ‘Orange County Choppers’ hat snap photos of his girlfriend in her new ‘Lost’ hat. It was unbelievable.

     It was madness.

     How could this be happening? Humpy’s is a cool bar. Why are all of these otherwise decent people falling for this very lame promotional gimmick (which turned out to be presented by KIMO Channel 13, by the way) and getting sucked into the vortex of television together when they could be drinking delicious beer and debating the Carter administration? Maybe Neil Zawicki was right. Maybe the country is rapidly devolving into opposing camps of TV watchers and TV non-watchers ... and the TV itself is winning.

     I needed a drink.

     I picked up the placard on our table which listed the drink specials. “’Lost’ Tropical Cooler” was at the top of the list and featured four different types of rum mixed with lime juice, orange juice, and club soda. Great ... nothing like getting hammered on rum and watching soap operas in a crowded bar.

     I guess it beats having to talk to one another.