If Big Brother is watching, how are my ratings?
I've had a lot of free time on my hands of late (not by my own choice, the courts just won't listen to reason), and I've spent it poking the slimey underbelly of the American media and smelling the end of the stick. I've been crawling the so-called "Discussion" boards populated by the twisted souls who bring the nightly doses of sorrow and misfortune to the masses through TV and print. Attracted by the smell of blood and death, they are vampires the likes of which Dracula would simultaneously admire, cower from and revile! Sure, they seem charming enough, they even get us to invite them in to our homes, with their smiles and snappy sport coats and perfect hair. They wait until we're in our favorite chair with a beer in hand, and WAMMO! they hit you with the most repulsive aspects of humanity, murder, rape, war, Nascar, anything that will suck your soul and leave you an empty wreck of a shell. Never do they offer solutions. Oh sure, they might tell you the warning signs to look for to know if your refrigerator is plotting your demise. They may even show you how to tell if your neighbor is molesting your compost heap, or if your town is being overrun by whores and pushers, but they don't mention the important stuff like what will the girls really do for twenty bucks or which pushers will front you a ten piece on credit til the next time you see him. But if some unknown hermit dies from auto erotic asphyxiation, then they can't work hard enough to expose the growing trend of of masturbatory mishaps, complete with information on which plastic bags fit best over the male or female head. Not that I don't need to know, but I prefer to get my information on such subjects from the traditional sources, like priests and the J.C.s.
But I don't want to sound like a negative Nelly, turning on the ten o'clock news saves you the time needed to find snuff films on the internet, and truth be told we all wanted to see Bill Clinton's mark on Monica's dress. In the end , as much as I may feel the majority of the industry should be locked in the bottom of an outhouse of a dysentery ward, I must admit I am a fan. The subtle turn of phrase that issues forth such prose as "the moment of silence heard round the world", the vacant gleam in the eye reflecting the wisdom of the teleprompter, and enough hair spray to alter the earths atmosphere. Mmmmmmmmm, thems good eats. Fuck Jim Lehrer, journalism is for pussies!
After much consideration, I want a job in TV!
