There is no show, no event, no slice of faux reality on the boob tube that’ll send me off to the land of nod. Give me a contrived narrative and I’ll spend the run-time picking it apart; give me a good one and I’ll binge until the well is dry and oh, look at that, it's time to go to work. It’s an affliction. I know people — my girlfriend, my sister, Danny Agnew — who pass out with the TV on like it was a lullaby. Not me.
Enter Napflix, the one streaming channel with content so incredibly uneventful that I crashed like a roofied narcoleptic. UX-wise, Napflix looks very similar to the site from which is not-so-slyly pilfered its name, and sources most of it 60-minute, siesta-inducing videos from YouTube.
Some videos are on loops, some are just one take, and all of them have little to no sound beyond the monotone nature of what’s being filmed. The only downside is you can’t go fullscreen, but I suspect that’ll change.
There are model trains circling a track. There’s a guy raking sand in a zen garden. I stayed away from the linguistics lecture because I’m a nerd, but you get the idea. I watched a crackling fire in a fireplace while lying on the couch and caught 20 minutes of deep slumber after lunch yesterday.