There was a time, not too long ago in our country's short history, when the cowboy roamed the land.

Riding tall on a horse, with his spurs jingling and his six-shooter jangling, the mythical laconic figure of American lore symbolized a young, exciting country -- full of hope . . . and danger.

If the West was truly a violent place, then a loaded gun was a must. The six-shooter was an instrument that brought death and peace to a restless land, settling scores and taming towns.

Yet as America advanced into a society brimming with technical innovations, the cowboy slowly disappeared from our land; the Industrial Revolution all but put the cowboy out to pasture with his herd.

Over a hundred years have passed and we find ourselves firmly grounded in 1995, where, despite what you may think, the cowboys have not been replaced with street gangs and the cops who attempt to corral their violence. Who are the cowboys today? Politicians? No. Reverends? No. Sports figures? Get real.

Rather, the true modern-day cowboy is a much more ominous, technologically advanced figure -- one who wields all power from a comfortable saddle where he sits and takes out foes with the click of a button while munching on the snacks he packs in his saddlebag.

I'm talking about the couch potato.

You know him, you live with him, you are one. Your horse is your La-Z-Boy recliner. Your six-shooter is the remote clutched firmly in your hand. Your saddlebag is that specially made, microwaveable bag filled with Orville Redenbacher's finest popped kernels.

We've truly become one nation under the remote, a weapon more dangerous than a gun packed with Rhino ammo. With one click of a button, we can eliminate an unwanted opinion, change to another, turn off a foe. Instead of roaming the open prairie, we surf through channels, searching, looking for something that'll grab us.

We rarely find that special something because television has all but destroyed our attention spans. Cable has given us tens of channels, and we desire to see what's on each and every channel every second it's on. Due to the loss of our attention spans, a group of fellow couch potatoes and I will sit around for hours, watching television with such intensity that we'll tend to avoid conversation with each other.

Why? Because our best friends do not offer us what Dave, Tim, Beavis and Butthead do -- communication without effort. Television personalities, ranging from Letterman to Tony Little and his Abdominizer, communicate to us without forcing us to communicate back. Television is probably the most passive of all mediums; with the remote, we exercise our fingers more than our brains.

If we do find something remotely interesting, we allow ourselves to watch until the commercial break, when we grab our boards and head for the beach. We once again surf on an endless wave of infomercials, sitcoms, and Mighty Morphin Power Rangers rip-offs until an arthritic pain hits our trigger finger. More often than not, we end up on MTV.

And those wonderful people we know as friends, who we relate to in other environments, just sit there and stare at the little screen with blank stares. Although we feel in control with our remotes in hand, television really controls us. It's addictive, even more so than smoking. If you want to quit puffing nicotine, you throw your pack of Parliaments away. Try doing the same with your television.

The cowboys eventually traded in their six-shooters for something better, as must we. I'm not advocating a ban on television but rather some responsibility as viewers. We have to stop relying on television to spoon-feed us. If you want to purchase a Super Mop, don't dial a number while glued to your set. Get off your Redenbacher-filled rump and go to Hills. Meet people, exchange greetings and use cash. We have to curb our hermit tendencies and become people again. To quote Peter Finch in Network, we all should be "mad as hell, and we're not going to take it anymore."

So the next time you're watching television, take one small step and leave the remote out of reach. Hang up your surfboard and attempt to watch something actively. Rather than just watching with your friends, try discussing with your friends. You'll be surprised what lively conversation will come out of an episode of Dionne Warwick and her psychic friends.