Doing battle with daily dragons

Thursday, June 02, 2005


So the Rock Star and I have recently acquired magic telly. We call it magic because anything other than 5 channels is nothing short of a miracle. This does not necessarily mean we watch more, but it means we have a larger selection of things NOT to watch.

I’m willing to bet that most people out there are as weak willed as we are. No matter how educated or media savvy you are, there are very few among us who are immune from car crash TV. Sometimes this is literal, in the case of World’s Scariest Police Chases with Sheriff John Bunnell (you’ve seen him; the very earnest, orange man with white hair and deeply frightening teeth.) but it could be anything, from one of those “informative looks at the porn industry” to a spirit-sucking reality TV show. (Reality TV. Bad for me, bad for you, bad for everybody.)

Sadly, The Rock Star and I engaged in compulsive viewing of “Newlyweds: Nick and Jessica” the other night. This piece of media pizzle has been running for ages in the States, and being the secret gossip junkie that I am, I knew of its existence, but not until viewing did the gruesome truth rear its ugly head.

On one hand, it’s nice to see that being rich and famous doesn’t automatically make you a) happy or b) smart. But has the need for voyeurism really replaced our taste for good old-fashioned story-telling? Shamans around campfires from the beginning of human history have been grounding us by telling the tales that make us who we are. Is what we’re finding out now that we lack imagination and would rather peek in someone’s window to be a critic rather than engage creatively, listen carefully and be inspired?

THE WOMAN DIDN’T KNOW WHAT A FUCKING PLATYPUS WAS. Let’s get back around the campfire.