Copyrights sort of cease to exist once you leave America. Well, perhaps their stability in the US isn’t that stable to begin with. At any rate, despite the slow internet connections, I have been downloading some of my favorite shows, as well as some of my least favorites.

TV is a strange and mythical beast in my mind. As many may know, my family didn’t have a TV in the house until I was seven or eight. However, even after an undersized screen appeared is the enormous cavity in the family room, intended for a big screen TV, it’s power cord typically was encased with in a strange box, preventing it’s use.

This lack of media, and God forbid, too much fresh air has resulted in a surprising social handicap of which my friends enjoy taking advantage. Comments such as “He drove around in a train?” and “Who is Gary Colman anyway?” are not as rare as one might hope.

What I did lack in TV, I made up with in video games. I remember one summer taking an ordinary kitchen knife and witling a hole in the TV’s power lock. The whole, just big enough to allow the electrical prongs out, gave me complete dominion over the TV, but with the desired anonymity. I think I pretended to be sick during a lot of family outings that summer.

Despite my parent’s best efforts, however, here I am, completely plugged in and watching TV. The Olympics in Torino started just days before I left the country, and I wasn’t able to see the opening ceremonies. So here is a thanks to that anonymous Canadian who recorded CBC’s coverage and posted it on the internet.

It turns out that there aren’t that many Americans in the Parade of Nations. Or, at least if there are, no one else besides us seems to care. It was interesting to here the light foreign banter between the two broadcasters, discussing their favorite aspects of Italian culture.

A recent family poll revealed that most of us would like to visit Italy in the near future. But with my mother’s recent trip in mind, I could help but chuckle at a conversation one claimed to have had with Pavarotti.
“Pavarotti,” the broadcaster said, or so I imagine, “what do you prefer, red wine or white?”
“I,…” he replied, giving ample time for dramatic flair, “am an Italian man! I only drink white wine when we are out of red!”

It seems I need to work on my palate.