Williamsburg, then and now.

Pretty much since the time television was invented, there have been puffed-chest poseurs who claim repeatedly that they “never watch television.”

I’m sure in ancient Greece there were people who spouted that they never watch Aeschylus or Euripides, the implication being that such entertainment was entirely too low-brow or plebeian for their refined palates.

Likewise, I’m sure there were those Romans who never went to the Forum and those Elizabethans who shied away from Shakespeare. Such popular entertainment was too dumbed down to be worthy of their precious time.

“Are you going to that new Aristophanes at the amphitheatre tonight? There’s a new play he’s written called ‘Frogs.’”

“ ‘Frogs’? That sounds absolutely idiotic. I never go to the amphitheater—I don’t even spell it the asinine English way you do, mixing the e and r. I’m staying home and chipping my latest thoughts onto a stone tablet then sharing them with friends down at the mall—I mean agora.”

“You really should check out Aristophanes.”

“Listen, I don’t even know anyone who goes to the theater anymore.  I hated ‘Clouds.’ I hated ‘Wasps.’ And that ‘Lysistrata’ that everyone was raving about? I thought it sucked grape leaves.’

“You didn’t like Lysistrata? For the sex scenes alone it was priceless….”

“Naw, I’d rather stay home and have an on-stone experience.”