I'M REMINDED this week of a time long ago when my son Huck and would curl up on the couch to watch favorite TV show. No, it wasn't some kiddie show with a strange dancing dinosaur or a Cookie Monster. Even at 3, tastes turned more to stories about modern-day Robin Hoods and fairly regular guys fighting for Truth, Justice, and the American Way. Ah, those were heady days. Though Huck loved shows, found them troubling. Take, for example, all-time favorite--The A-Team. Convicted of a crime they didn't commit, sent to a maximum-security stockade from which they promptly escaped, the four members of the A-Team went underground, surfacing only when they were needed to right some wrong. Each week the team ended up trapped a barn, a garage, or some other abandoned building and still managed to knock out some kind of armored contraption made from the junk lying around--duct tape, a lawn mower engine, a welding tank. Inevitably, their contraption allowed them to escape, take down the bad guys some nonlethal fashion, and make it possible for everyone to live happily ever after. troubled me was the team's proclivity for fistfights, gunfire, and massive explosions--none of which seemed to have consequences. Week after week, a chase ended with an evildoer's car flipping over, landing on its roof, and exploding a ball of fire. Next came the scene showing the crash victims walking away unhurt. would have preferred that Huck watch other shows, but had this thing about censorship--I was against it. So that meant had to watch with him, vigilantly waiting for the teachable moment. You know, would say, in real life, if someone got hit that hard, he would really be hurt. Or real life, if a car flew through the air like that and exploded, the people would die. In time, Huck became worried about the stories' effects on me. One week, as the bad guys began to load themselves down with weaponry, Huck looked puzzled. After a moment, he placed little hand over my eyes. I don't think you are going to want to see this, he said. Later, as he gently patted my knee, he added, Don't worry, Momma, it's just pretend. Soon, Huck suggested we would both be happier if just stopped watching his shows. But it was too late. was addicted. In self-defense, he developed the ability to tune me out--a skill that he thinks has served him well through the years. mention this now because again find myself addicted. Sometime when wasn't paying attention, became a news wonk. This addiction is far worse than my A-Team experience. With the Internet, can listen to news radio, watch debates, and read news and opinions on websites and blogs. And can subscribe to a large number of news alerts that come to me via e-mail several times a day. Maybe worst of all, though, is the addictive quality of YouTube. Did you know you could do a search for Margaret Spellings and get complete tapes of her testifying before the House Oversight Committee? Who wouldn't love to watch that! Not only is this addiction unhealthy, it interferes with my real work. For example, the other day was working at my computer while watching MSNBC when realized was watching Carlson's show, Tucker. Yes, know. Anyone who watches Tucker gets what she deserves. reminded myself that nothing good could come from it, but still listened as gleefully reported that Barack Obama had come out support of merit pay for teachers. What sane person could possibly be opposed to that? he asked two political commentators. As the words registered my brain, stopped typing and rather sheepishly raised my hand, though couldn't see it. After he bashed the NEA for blocking this obvious panacea, he glibly moved on. But couldn't let it go. sane person would be opposed to merit pay? My brain demanded that answer that question. …