Admit it. Say it!
‘My name is Blah and I am a boxaholic.’
Life on hold, marriage in bits, job swinging from a rusty nail, the box-set fanatic grabs every available minute to feed an addiction. I mean, you can’t leave, can’t breathe until you find out whether Jesse and Walter make it up before someone else gets killed in Breaking Bad, or how on earth Jack can keep his daughter safe in 24.
Box sets are not movies. They have a different time scale. What can you say in two hours that can’t be said better in 400? Relationships change, grow, collapse, move on. Fear is faster, immediate, for ever present. Plots range from incredible to intimate with the same intensity. Battlestar Galactica may be sci-fi and beyond belief but it has a heart that beats like a whiplash in the silence of space.
Dipping should be outlawed.
‘I watched a bit of The Wire the other night.
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