Televisions are cheap these days, and they’re lightweight so it’s easy to move them around.

In fact, they are so cheap you can buy a new one for less than the cost of repair, and that includes the fee you have to pay to dump them into the giant toxic waste hole at the recycle station. This is a good thing for lots of people, especially those who often feel compelled to throw a beer mug or some other heavy object at the screen because of some program that upsets them, especially advertisements.

I’ll admit that I watch TV a couple hours every day, but not the infinitely “streaming” sort. There is something unsettling about having so much choice. It’s like trying to decide among 87 flavors of ice cream. After you’ve tried a dozen, your tongue freezes, making them all taste the same.

Likewise with streamed TV shows; the recipes (plot formulas) are preapproved by RT’s (Robot Tasters) who recognize the importance of sameness as a means of maximizing profit. They know the secret ingredient is in the packaging.

In middle school, I think I learned something about advertisements and how capitalism works. It was like a combination art/social studies class. We went to the basement of the old Campus School where there were shelves filled with jars of white paste along with wooden applicators that looked like large popsicle sticks. This was especially interesting the day when mischievous Billy, who, in the spirit of adolescence, managed to produce a chorus of gleeful groans from the girls by proclaiming “Yum, Mayonnaise!” as he took a mouthful of paste from his applicator.

The educational part of this project involved finding ads in magazines and gluing them onto pages representing different categories of advertising strategies. I believe the categories were derived from psychological studies on chimpanzees. Researchers were determined to figured out how to get them to want something that no chimpanzee in his or her right mind would ever really want in the first place, like a membership to a tanning salon, or an all body deodorant, or an Ipotty for chimp toddlers so they can can play video games while having a bowel movement.

Let me be clear. Advertising is a very serious business, and a lot of complex thinking goes into it. But it all boils down to psychology 101: arouse the chemical dopamine inside the brains of consumers by presenting the image of a seemingly desirable product while ringing a bell (or honking a horn or humming “Don’t Worry, be Happy” or spraying the kind of air fresheners they use in casinos, or flicking someone’s ear). Keep doing it over and over again. Eventually, you’ll have their mouths watering for your product!

As I dimly recall, the basic advertising appeals were as follows:

— Celebrity Appeal. For the price of a high-end dirigible, you can get a famous person to tout your product, especially when the product seems to fit the celeb. I hope I’m not dating myself here, but who wouldn’t want a cigar touted by Groucho Marx, or a bra supported by Mae West, or a line of gun holsters with silver buckles endorsed by Roy Rogers?

— The Bandwagon Appeal. This is the kind of ad in which one person tries out a product, let’s say soda, then smiles at the camera and starts walking with pep in his step. Suddenly, magically, there are 87 people in ice cream colored outfits following him, all sipping the same drink and smiling the same smile!

— I think patriotic appeal goes hand in hand with the common folk, good-old-boy effect: all you need is a rugged looking white guy in his mid 40s wearing tight jeans and a red white and blue flannel shirt and filling up the gas tank of his F250 truck while listening to “Free Bird.”

Of course there are several other categories, including various emotional appeals, like humor, fear mongering, loneliness, and sex. Many more have been and will be added, like the Miracle Appeal used to sell a potion that, along with 87 surgeries, can make someone 90 years old look like they’re 60. And there is Hopeless Romantic Appeal, for example, apps that offer instant solace to those whose personal relationships seem to be falling apart, again and again.

The most powerful of all is the ALGORITHMIC appeal. This strategy somehow persuades you to give out every bit of information about your personal and professional life. Thus, you will have the convenience of Artificial IntelligenceI making all your decisions. You will not have to think ever again.

As I’m writing on this important topic, it occurs to me that I need to do further study on advertising strategies and capitalism. I’ll work on it by watching more TV and then get back to you next week.