Below is proof that one day, not too long ago, these 30 minute-long, self-inflicted torture sessions were nothing more than hopes and dreams inside the infant minds of loud-speaking, bearded men. These patterns started as physical cards in a studio, on which a camera would focus when programming had ceased for the day. Also used for calibration, these cards have become symbols of a culture transfixed by television. After collecting these images and appreciating their nuances and character, I'm not sure which I'd rather look at at 3 a.m. - these patterns or Vince Shlomi's awkward squint. RIP Billy Mays... RIP.


























