Perhaps a latter Police Academy sequel or, if I was lucky, something I remember thinking was called The Monty Python Movie, in which grown men argued about coconuts. On such a Saturday, I never knew what I might discover. Luckily, the markings were superfluous as I knew its configuration by heart. Still, sometimes, when I was lucky, it meant my favorite spot on the couch, some snacks taken sneakily from the pantry and the rectangular, black remote which had been with us so long that many of the white symbols had long before worn off. Maybe an extended family get together had been planned months in advance and my parents were dragging me to a place I was relatively unfamiliar with alongside people who fit the same description. Maybe a friend had stayed the night and the outlook of the weekend was nothing but video games, a carton of Goldfish crackers and more soda than any human being should rightly imbibe. Saturday afternoons could mean a great deal of different things. It was time to roll up my sleeves, grab the remote and surf the metaphorical waves of cable television’s ocean-like pool of churning content. After the cereal had grown soggy and the orange juice was long gone, the final credits rolled on the morning’s last cartoon.
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