October 14, 2002 | 9:42 PM

Alrighty then.

One of the best things I ever did, something that has contributed to my newfound happiness greatly, is giving up the idiot box.

I haven�t given up DVD�s and video. And I still watch TV programs on DVD. But the difference is, I am consciously making a choice to watch them as opposed to giving myself the opportunity to be sucked into things I really don�t even care about at all, or aimlessly clicking the remote control lulling myself into the narcolepsy of TV addiction.

I refuse to get an antenna. I absolutely will never have regular TV again. Even if it means that I won�t get to see another episode of The Gilmore Girls or even (le sigh) Six Feet Under, the best television show of all time.

TV is for the most part fucking pap. For every interesting show there are 3,000 more turds clogging up the airwaves. Which is unfortunate because in theory TV is a populist medium and could be utilized (and occasionally is) to tell gripping stories (Six Feet Under, The X Files prior to the last couple seasons) educate people about intolerance (All In The Family), teach kids to read (Sesame Street) or just make people laugh hysterically (Seinfeld) Instead, just about everything that�s on is written by and for retarded people.

Especially the news. What the fuck happened? From the days of Edward R. Murrow to quasi sincere Opra-esque scumbags covering irrelevant tabloid sleaze. Whole segments devoted to celebrities-- on the news. Jennifer Lopez shouldn�t be on the fucking news. Or how about the Fox �News� channel�Hardball and The O�Reilly Factor where men in bad suits just yell at each other for a straight half hour spouting bonmots about how abortion should be illegal and we should kick all the immigrants out of our country. Hysterical mad raving loonies that all actually have the same exact opinion but wanna shout the other person down just to feel better about the fact they aren�t getting laid.

And E! As a former slave of E! I used to sit on my bed eating ice cream out of the carton and watching the Anna Nicole True Hollywood story. For camp value of course. But just staring passively at Anna Nicole�s ridiculous self indulgent spectacle making instead of doing something real like listening to music or writing or learning guitar or going fucking outside and walking around this fair city.

Because every fucking hour of every day counts boys and girls. Every hour. There is so much to do and see and feel. And even though I love the behind the music episode where that former pop star turns into a junky and almost kills his best friend in a drunk driving crash, I have chosen to give it up. Because E True Hollywood Story and Behind the Music and Friends

(oh god fuck the fucking Friends, dude. Can�t they all just die already? PLEASE? Can�t the chic who plays Phoebe make indie movies i.e. Clockwatchers and whasshername who�s married to Brad Pitt do another Jake Glylenhall film and the rest of them can just perish in some horrible fire?)

are the filmic equivalent of a spam and wonderbread sandwich. And there are much more nutritious things to put in my head than that. I am filling up on good old Lester Bangs essays and David Sedaris stories and Bach�s Mass in B Minor and David Bowie and John Waters and Fritz Lang. Healthy organic and 100% subversive. So the rest of y�all can fill up on the government cheese because I have stepped back from the table and I don�t want anymore fritos.