American Gods, Season 1

Media:
[as Lucy Ricardo] Look at me, Shadow, all in Hi-def. We shot the show in 35mm, cutting edge. Looks like hell in the transfer. Funny how things supposed to make you look good only make it worse. I can't even fill the whole screen.

Shadow:
...The fuck is this!?

Media:
Just little old me.

Shadow:
I'm talking to Lucille Ball...

Media:
Lucy Ricardo. I'm all sorts, Shadow. The screen is the altar. I'm the one they sacrifice to. Then till now. Golden Age to Golden Age. They sit side by side, ignore each other, and give it up to me. Now they hold a smaller screen on their lap or in the palm of their hand so they don't get bored watching the big one. Time and attention, better than lamb's blood. Huh. They beat your pretty face all up. I hate that. I hate that they were hurting you, Shadow. I would never do that to you, honey. No, I want to offer you a job.

Shadow:
Doing what?

Media:
Working for me. I want you in my camp with us. Look at it like this, Shadow; We're the coming thing. We are already here. We are self-driving cars and 3D printers and subdermal time-release insulin. And your old boss is still selling oranges on the side of the road. Not even organic. We are now and tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. And he ain't even yesterday anymore. I heard about the trouble you had with the Technical Boy. I was impressed with how you dealt with him. Efficient, no-nonsense, effective. Who'd have thought you had it in you? He was underestimating you, sweetheart. They all are. Not a mistake I'll make.

Shadow:
Yeah well I don't wanna work for you...I Love Lucy...We're done.

Media:
Whatever the old guys are giving you, I can give you so much more. You name it, honey. What do you need? Hey, you ever wanted to see Lucy's tits?