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Have a Seat
Celebrating National Couch Potato Month—sitting down, of course.

I don’t believe in statistics so I don’t have any to back this up, but I think most divorces in America get their start in the month of October. It’s a logical conclusion, especially when you consider the number of marriages composed of spouses who don’t like televised sports, but are married to spouses who do.

Now, I am being politically correct here in using “spouses” rather than more gender-specific designations. Still, I’m sure most readers can guess the gender of the figure lying supine on the couch with a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos expertly balanced on his stomach, merrily flipping among the baseball playoffs, college and pro football, hockey and the NBA preseason—and maybe even a peak at soccer, if said gender was able to slide the Fox Soccer Channel through on the monthly cable bill. While all this frenetic activity is going on in the den, the other “spouse” has got a schematic laid out on the kitchen table with step-by-step assembly and operational instructions for either a new garbage disposal or an automatic machine gun, depending the stage of their relationship at that point in time.

Wives who don’t like sports should all get together and form a travel or activity club to plan events for the month of October. It might help keep things on the homefront in a more agreeable perspective during this Mother of All Months for TV sports. While said club—let’s call it the Fighting Steel Magnolia Army of Jihad Social Club—is out perusing Amish crafts markets or gun shows, the men folk—not joiners for the most part, so let’s refer to them collectively as the Legion of Drool—remain guarding home and hearth, and power-flipping their way through as many as a dozen or more televised sporting contests.

Meanwhile, the leaves pile up in the yard, the patio furniture continues to weather in the harshening crispness of fall, the outdoor faucets remain un-winterized, and a new garbage disposal unit remains in a heap of parts on the kitchen table. On the floor of the living room: a wedding photo of the beloved couple, shards of glass sprinkled about the splintered frame, its destruction followed by the sudden oxygen-depleting slamming of the front door. The sound is just loud enough to compel the lump of rotting flesh on the couch to stop flipping channels and ask itself, “What was all that racket?”

Because of the tsunami of televised sports that occur, October should be named Couch Potato Month. With that sanction, a lot of the rub and friction that occurs during that time would be erased. Think about Father’s Day as the model. No chores, no errands, no complaining about how nothing’s getting done, no cooking—save for the grilling of heavily salted and high-fat meats. More perks might include diminished attention to personal hygiene until well into the afternoon, full-length couch privileges and dibs on the big-screen TV for the entire day. Now apply all that to October and you have Couch Potato Month, destined to be the most anticipated and celebrated of all months.

Think of possibilities for special events to mark Couch Potato Month—like the annual Million Man Nap.

Retailers could announce special Couch Potato Month sales of leather recliners with built-in refrigerators, hammocks and personal “tummy vacs” for keeping the crumbs off the T-shirt. Special rates on chiropractic back care would also be a good thing during this special time. Of course, such a month would eventually have to be balanced with something along the lines of National Trial Separation Day—probably on Nov. 1.

Naturally, I realize there may be detractors. But with playoff systems expanding across all sports, we actually need Couch Potato Month to put it all in perspective. Besides, what better occupant of the White House to proclaim National Couch Potato Month than its current resident?

Frequent Main Line Today contributor Reid Champagne gathers much moss in Newark, Del.

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