The irony is that many years ago the islands were in fact served by broadcast television, half a dozen local channels networks as varied as PBS and Univision and all the usual suspects were available through rabbit ears in most islands. The towers were paid for by property tax supplements, modest enough as I recall but pretty owners baulked and the towers came down. Which brings us to the delights of monthly cable bills for which I can see no earthly reason as I disdain sports and "news."
I find myself annoyed by the power of the medium. I wonder at my neighbors who take the time to give a shit about whether or not television is in town to film some stupid thing or other, and I wonder why it matters. I have seen a great deal of adulation of performers, people who have in some measure or other proved themselves as people of talent, and certainly one can appreciate the draw of Kenny Chesney hanging out in town where he is free to be gay in a world that still thinks gay cowboys are objects of ridicule and their troubadours must by extension be ruggedly masculine as well. Oprah Winfrey vacations on Sunset Key. Whoop-de-doo... But here where outward symbols of wealth and status are scorned and the leveling power of paradise is extolled, television rules the roost. Why? I have no idea why anyone cares who is killing whom in Miami, or whose house burned down in Palm Beach or which drug "kingpin" was found on a street corner in Hialeah. But walk the streets of this town at night and you will see the blue screen flickering, drowning out the moonlight filtered through the palms. The sound of monotonous TelePrompTer readings kill the soughing of the breeze across the sleeping town. I cannot explain it but cable, the Prince of Darkness brings the light of false dawns even into Key West.