“If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything.” -Mark Twain
I flipped on the TV today while I ate lunch and mostly channel surfed because let’s face- daytime television isn’t exactly award winning material. The first show I saw was Maury. Now, this is kind of a bad example for the subject of today’s post because the people that take their problems on to that show (or any show for that matter), are in a whole different playing field. Regardless, the topic of the show was on cheating and the suspected cheater had been given a lie detector test. A few channels down was the Tyra. I have to admit, I’m a fan of Tyra. She seems to be a pretty good role model most of the time. Unfortunately, she stooped to Maury’s level today. She was interviewing people who had been on the game show, Moment of Truth, and asking them questions about how it changed their life. The girl I saw on the show was taking a lie detector test for Tyra to see if she loved her husband.
1. If you have to take a lie detector test to see if you love someone, you don’t.
2. If you have to go on to a reality, talk or game show to see if your significant other is cheating, they are.
3. If you are that desperate for attention, go the grocery store naked.
Since when did our culture become so depraved that we wanted to watch this on television for entertainment? We are quick to blame Hollywood, but everyone wants to be just like them and if we’d stop paying attention to their silly little lives, we would probably be a lot better off.
Everyone that knows me, knows I’m a sucker for celebrity gossip. Why? I wish I knew. Honestly, I’m just as much of a sucker for regular gossip. So, a while back I nixed the Facebook habit and deactivated my account. Today, I get rid of the celebrity news. I am not going to fuel that fire any longer. That, and I think Perez Hilton is what my dear friend Sedgewick would call a “douche canoe.”
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Sex sells and cheap skanky sex sells even better. You have to remember who is watching daytime broadcast TV, generally people without a job or anything else better to be doing during the day.
Unfortunately, you are correct, which is why I eventually navigated to the music section and settled on the classical music channel.
Lying is so ingrained in our culture most people do it without thinking about it.
And polygraphs (lie detectors) aren’t infallible. If the person being tested is smart enough they can trick the machine into giving false readings. You just have to control your heart rate. That’s the biggest give away, is when your heart rate jumps with a jolt of adrenaline.
If you’re a good lier, you won’t get caught.
You know. I worked in a grocery store during my senior year of high school. It wasn’t your average “guaranteed lowest prices” kind of joint, oh no. Kowalski’s is a high-class operation, complete with it’s own wall of accolades from the local newspapers and a celebrity roster longer than the list of reservations at Old Country Buffet here in the Village (if you’re not from around here, I should let you know that the ENTIRE neighborhood goes to bed at 9 and is not only up but at Bruegger’s Bagels before 8 on Saturday mornings — EVERY Saturday morning). I’ve met a few of them myself and I was largely unimpressed.
But I digress. Where I was going with the grocery store bit is to say that I STRONGLY discourage the encouragement of nudity in grocery stores because it is NOT a pretty sight.
One day, over last summer, when I was working at the store, a woman had come in with her three moppets. They were scraggly, bratty little things who had clearly never been disciplined once in their life. The youngest, who was possibly as young as 3 and as old as 5, had apparently not yet reached the stage in which his mother had begun to stop treating him like an infant. That is to say, he had a stroller of his own and still wore diapers. As her male escort paid for their groceries with their EBT card, she sat down on the courtesy bench by the courtesy coffee makers (serving only the freshest Peace Coffee!) and proceeded to whip out one of her nauseatingly large tits and breast feed her child.
Let’s reiterate:
She whipped out her tit.
For her 3-5 year old child.
In a high traffic area.
Of a grocery store.
Mutants. The whole lot of them.
Okay. You’ve hit a nerve here. Actually, just about everything nowadays hits one of my various nerves, but that’s a different post for a different day. I have not yet achieved the lithium prescription to enable me to face THAT demon alone. To combat that, I use words like ‘douche canoe’ to confuse the slower-of-mind that hover around me like moths at street light.
So here it is, kids. Daytime TV is pablum. Evening TV is pablum. Actually, let’s be brutally American honest here… all TV pretty much sucks hind-tit… and we sit through it all because we’ve been pre-programmed to be mesmerized by the shiny box with the pretty lights. That sector of the human population that allows themselves to be Hoovered into such intellectual gems as “American Idol” or “Lost” or “Britain sure has it some talented people!” are castrating their brain cells with grapefruit spoons. Shout out to Arkansas!! Anyway, I believe the decay of our civilization as a whole can probably traced to the power cord of your basic television set.
Oh, I’m preachin’ now…
This planet’s rich and varied history is dotted with the rise to prominence of difference cultures who savored art, discourse, exploration and introspection. Only when they believed they had achieved godlike status and began indulging in the prurient did that culture’s flight begin to stall. Then came the hedonism, the brutality, the self-hatred, and then you begin to hear the background noise fade into a sort of “whoop whoop, pull up!” type of advisory. The culture never hears the warning in time because they’ve just discovered the joys of self-deification or post-modernism or child-fondling. Generally, their first inkling that they’ve lost the golden chalice is the ominous thunder of bootsteps as the NEXT great culture comes into their land, steals their goodies, rapes and pillages (aside: for you first-time barbarians out there, always rape BEFORE you pillage…
and leaves a broken, hollow shell only to be remembered by tattered pages of allegorical history. The Romans, the Assyrians, the Greeks, the Spanish, the British all conquered the world, then all went to the orgies. Next thing you know, as they writhed naked with some big-breasted, doe-eyed trollop, someone with jackboots and nasty spear busted down the door. Now they’re footnotes. And the British have nasty dental work on top of that!
I sense the decline of a Great American society finds its root in the Maury’s, the Tyras, the Montel’s of this world. There is a growing majority of mushbrains that tune into this video feces because this, to them, is entertainment. ENTERTAINMENT!! This is the same culture that eradicated small pox, walked on the moon, and gave us rock and roll…. and we’re enslaved by our devotion to Oprah?!? We have built the world’s greatest nation from dirt in 230 years, but we’re going to lose it all because we are captivated by the tripe that is “Moment of Truth.” That couging/gagging/choking sound you hear are the collective trillions of American brain cells being strangled for lack of meaningful input.
Listen, I don’t demand much from the people around me. Well, wait a minute. Check that. I DO demand a lot from people around me. Candidly, I’ve got 61 inch television dominating my entertainment room because, well, I like pretty pictures that move. My ONE small demand I make of the pretty pictures is that they must move ME… and not to the water closet to dump bowels. I spend a lot of time AVOIDING shows that threaten to dumb me down, seeking some REAL reality. You want reality? Watch First 48 and see a race of people killing itself from the 20-30yo males on up. You want Reality? Catch the Little League world series and watch a kid be a kid. Whatever you do, however, do NOT subject yourself to the broadcast diarrhea that is series television, or that ominous noise in the background may be the sound of the next great culture kicking our doors in and stealing our fruit cups.
Alright. I’m a little testy tonight. The whole recollection of Mindy at the local grocer must’ve unearthed the inner angst because now I’ve found a bully pulpit. I’d venture I have clearer vision than Obama and Hillary, and far MORE at stake than they should I not be heard. Timeout… how bitter will Hillary be if she’s beaten by a political neophyte whose name rhymes with a sociopathic terror demon? From Illinois, no less? Wouldn’t that be like the Yankees getting swept by a girl’s softball team from Council Bluffs, Iowa? I will tune my 61 inches of Hi Def on that press conference when the Hil announces she is pulling out of the race. I want Chelsea to be in the background, too. Boy, she’s turning out to be a little political Jezebel, isn’t she? I read the article of her being swamped in the streets of a particularly Gay/Lesbian section of Philadelphia. Talking about swimming in your element… anyway, back to the rant…
If we don’t care how we end up, then yeah, I guess turn on the tube and let’s see our favorite guest host incite nameless/faceless guests to hysteria as they poor stupid juice all over the place. Oh, and turn the volume up so we can hear Judge Judy pronounce her verdict on the case of this moron versus that buttcheek. As for me? I’m on a crusade out of this swamp. I’m no Moses, but I’ll lead this thing to a Promised Land of sorts. I’ll lead it… but you’ll have to call me….
Squancho.
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