Yesterday I brought home a bouncing baby TiVo. I got it at Best Buy on Sixth Avenue and 23rd Street. Matt and I walked into the store as throngs of antiwar protesters marched up Sixth Avenue, shouting and chanting and holding signs and wearing stickers.

Matt had stuff to do afterwards, but I was dying to bring my new baby home and set it up, so I descended into the 23rd Street PATH station. As I walked along the platform, I passed the occasional protester returning home from a long day of protesting. I settled on a spot to stand and wait for the train. A protester stood nearby, a fluorescent orange anti-Bush sticker on his jacket sleeve, while I stood there, a fluorescent orange 40-hour TiVo Series 2 box at my side, representing the twin evils of American consumerism and American mass entertainment. I felt so iniquitous, and proud of it. I wish there’d been a photojournalist nearby to snap a picture of the two of us. In fact, it’s such a great idea for a photo that I’m tempted to restage it and have someone take a picture.

The PATH train arrived, rather crowded. I got on, put the box on the floor of the train and stood facing a row of seats. A woman sitting by me looked down at the box, looked up at me, and said, “You are the luckiest man in the world.”

I spent the rest of the evening setting it up and playing around with it. (Matt, technological genius that he is, managed to fix a broken phone jack in my living room, so I didn’t even need to buy an extra-long phone cord or anything.) I’ve already set up some season passes and wish lists, and it’s already recorded some shows for me. And I love the cute little TiVo guy. See? I’ve already been assimilated.

Bring on the sloth and iniquity.