I’m not exactly sure when television started to turn on me.

Maybe it was that O.J. Simpson moment — with the white Ford Bronco and the low-speed chase and the TV news choppers almost slamming into each other to get the live film. Yeah, that was probably it.

For years, television was my friend — and it was a good friend. It was always there for me when I needed it, it picked me up when I was feeling down. It made me laugh. It made me think. It made me about 20 pounds overweight. It made me who I am today.

Yes, there were always a few awkward moments between television and me. I really didn’t know what to say during those occasional “feminine protection” commercials. I was embarrassed for television, and I think television was a little embarrassed for me.

But on balance, my relationship with television was a rewarding one. Television brought me some of the most exciting sports moments in history, all of which are now etched into my consciousness. It was always Game Six — it doesn’t even matter which World Series — Game Six was always the game that would be remembered.

Before that, television taught me how to count and even how to read a little bit. A bunch of puppets sang songs and told jokes and dedicated their show to the number 4.

As I grew, I began to wonder about things, thanks in large part to television. I wondered if those crazy castaways would ever get off that island. I wondered why they had to cram all six Brady kids into two bedrooms. Wasn’t Mr. Brady an architect? Couldn’t he have planned this out a little better?

I wanted to be an astronaut like Major Nelson, and maybe a strikingly attractive blonde genie — creatively named “Jeanie” — would emerge in a puff of smoke and pursue my affections as she chased me all over the house. (Actually, I still think about that one sometimes.)

Sure, I was a little upset when Bewitched changed Darins and didn’t tell me. I was offended that they thought I wouldn’t notice. Personally, I liked the heavy-set Darin better than the skinny Darin. But I forgave television.

Those were good times we had, television and I. But TV has changed.

I used to have three different channels — four if I got some aluminum foil out of the kitchen cupboard and wrapped it around the antenna. Now I have something like 85,000 channels from which to choose. None of them ever have anything good on, and I have to pay for them.

I watch with dismay as a bunch of rednecks sing “Viva Viagra,” with no apologies to Elvis; and I’m still trying to keep up with the story of “Bob.” Maybe you’ve followed Bob’s commercial saga. He’s had something enhanced, although I’m not certain what it is or how this enhancement was done. I don’t like Bob all that much. He makes me nervous.

Then, after 10 p.m., I can watch as a bunch of girls go wild. Don’t get me wrong, I like girls, and I figure if they want to go wild, it’s their business. But if I really wanted the details of exactly how they went wild, I would have made an effort to be there when this wildness occurred. I don’t need those wild details beamed into my living room.

You’ve noticed that I’m only talking about the commercials. That’s because even the commercials are more interesting and entertaining than the actual shows.

There was a time when the majority of television shows had some kind of script that was written by writers, directed by directors and acted by actors. I appreciated that. I can’t find any shows like that anymore.