I was surprised to read a post on Instagram by an African American photographer who said he wasn’t up to watching When They See Us, the new series about the Central Park Five. Even more surprising were the 250+ comments voicing the same feeling. In my simplistic thinking, the series would be a must-see event for black audiences.

Personally, I watched the first episode and could barely get through it. It was crushing. I felt guilty about giving up after one episode. I figured I owed African Americans at least that much, the witnessing of this horrible injustice. But I gave myself a pass, on the grounds that I can only take so much trauma before I break.

Now I see that, duh, it’s a million times more traumatic for African Americans to re-experience this event, even though it’s an important story. The Instagram commenters expressed a literal dread of more trauma. It was simply too painful and not worth it. Their hearts were already broken, many wrote. Parents said that it was too awful to imagine their own children suffering like the wrongly accused teenagers. Many had tried to watch but had found it too harrowing.

So here’s what’s been on my mind. TV is not just entertainment. It’s a powerful agent of communication that can have long-lasting consequences. Like the nightly news or movies on the big screen, TV shows transmit messages into your brain. When you Netflix and Chill for hours and hours, you’re inviting stuff into your brain. And the more well-acted and well-produced the input, the more intense are the effects.

But you never know what will fuck you up! I can watch hours of Charles Manson or Ted Bundy crap without getting upset. I can even watch Jim Jones footage without freaking out. Making I’m just used to those stories or maybe the body count is too high to make an impact. But I’ve seen a couple of true crime documentaries that will haunt me forever, or at least until I achieve full dementia.

For the last few weeks, I’ve been watching an Australian TV series about a chaotic but close-knit family called Offspring. I love it so much! It’s a wonderfully written mix of drama and comedy, with great characters and endless plot twists. But I was shocked when a central character was abruptly killed in a fluke accident. Now, I’m a big baby, everyone knows, but even my husband was speechless. I kept saying, “This can’t happen, maybe he’ll come back.”

I waited for him to open his eyes and be alive again but he was gone. It was “just TV” but in my brain and heart, I experienced a deep shock. It triggered my PTSD and my grief in a way I wasn’t ready for. The next day, still thinking about it, I went back to bed in the middle of the day. I wanted that guy back. Why had they taken him away? I needed him back. It was about that guy and about Max. I couldn’t feel the difference. I still can’t. The character was a gentle young man with a darkness around him like a halo, a sweet face and a wounded boyishness. Max. Not Max but Max.

I skipped the funeral episode. Why would I put myself through it?

That’s how you may regard When They See Us, or Holocaust movies, or even Trump interviews. If you’re dreading it, don’t put yourself through it. You are excused. You are not here to suffer for anyone’s sins except your own.

Beware of your TV. It may know what you want, but only you know what you need.

If you live in the US, I’ll assume that you’re following the Casey Anthony murder trial. If you live somewhere else, you don’t know what you’re missing!

The trial has everything you could possibly ask for, except for O. J. Simpson. Every character is compelling in his or her own way. The movie won’t be as gripping but it still has potential.

Casey herself is a real piece of work and as guilty as sin. Guilty, your honor! Duh! If Winona Ryder were still young, she would be ideal for the role of Casey. Meanwhile, I’m going to go with Ellen Page. I think she would do a great job as the sulky, sociopathic young murderess.

In the role of Cindy Anthony, I’ve cast Edie Falco.   It’s a no-brainer, right? My friend Andy would like the tragically decrepit  Ryan O’Neil as Ray Kroc, the meter reader who found the skull in the woods.   I’m leaning toward Andy Garcia as that idiot Jose Baez.

Casting suggestions, anyone??

I was surprised to find my self addicted to The Tudors, on Showtime, which just had its season finale last week.   It seemed pretty stupid the first time I watched it. That Jonathan Rhys Meyers is such a terrible actor. He seems to think he’s playing Elvis most of the time, or else he’s just glaring insanely. And I’m not really interested in historical drama.

What drew me in was the unforgettable face of Natalie Dormer as Anne Boleyn. She has what I consider a pig nose, in the best sense of the term. It’s so turned up, you could look right into it. And she held that pignose high, even into death. ( At least I think she did, because I had to close my eyes for that.)

Every Sunday night, I curled up on the couch to see that nose. The production values were excellent, the costumes were beautiful, the plot was full of intrigue, but for me it was all about Natalie Dormer. Her trajectory from devious minx to a deeply tragic figure was so gripping, and superbly acted.   And at the center of her performance was her nose.

I miss her already. I couldn’t care less about Season 3. They’re all dead to me now.