Things I Hate, vol 9

Imagine, if you will, that entertaining the masses had reverted all the way back to bread and circuses; that there were masses of people influencing the emperor to hold a thumbs up or down to eliminate the latest competitor, gleefully cheering as they are removed from view. Now imagine that instead of carnage and gore, idiocy and drama were the draw for the masses. Seem far-fetched? You must not have a television, then. Behold, the glittering gem balefully sucking us in to its hypnotic facets, Reality TV.

Once upon a time, there were game shows and documentaries and scripted shows. All was well. We could have reality revealed to us with a smooth narrative delivered by David Attenborough , as it should be. Another brand of reality was revealed to us in talent show formats, such as the Gong Show. Entertainment was given us by skilled actors, lovingly delivering their lines.

Sadly, this was not good enough for the masses of studio execs. Like the slow marching of the armies of Mordor, the tramping of something “new” approached the television masses. The dollar signs danced pirouettes before their eyes, as they realized they could get rid of paid actors and script writers in one fell swoop.

Arguably, the first step on the slippery slope was COPS, which allowed us collectively to laugh at how perpetually stupid criminals seemed to be. Between it and the talk show format that brought us increasingly idiotic situations (I’m looking at you, Springer), the landscape of television was forever changed. Kind of like a Chernobyl for the mind.

Then came Survivor: a bunch of people vying for a cool million, going out of their gourds on a “deserted” island, just ignore the caterers feeding the camera and lighting crew. I cannot imagine how this became a hit, nor how anyone can fail to understand that the drama is being whipped up by the production staff off-camera. Fear isn’t the mindkiller, schlock TV is.

My appearance on Survivor, should it ever happen, would last exactly 12 ½ minutes, and they’d have to convene the tribe specially to remove my cancerous obstinance. I’d break into the catering trucks regularly, sing and dance like a one man Tony Awards ceremony, and laze about during challenges like Dagwood on Sunday. Of course, I wouldn’t react well to being voted off prematurely, and the results of the after-affects of my binge drinking of every available mai tai in a 40 mile radius will be both predictable and terrible. I’d be winning, the Charlie Sheen way.

To return to the topic at hand, somehow it all went downhill after the Survivor landmark. A grand parade of shadenfreude began, an avalanche of shitty TV show after shitty TV show.

There’s a show where we can watch girls vie for the attentions of one “lucky” bachelor, competing for roses like a pack of sled dogs trying to get the last Beggin’ Strip. I imagine this could be made watchable with the introduction of velociraptors.

She'll eat the other girls on the group date, you know.

There are shows that attempt to resurrect the brief spark of celebrity that washed up has-beens once enjoyed. From Celebrity Rehab to Dancin’ with the Stars, from Gary Busey to Vanilla Ice, it’s all an exercise in squeezing the last 12 seconds out of the proverbial 15 minutes of spotlight.

Another show that would be better with raptors.

There are shows where we voyeuristically watch groups of people self-destruct in endless high school bullshit drama. If I understand correctly, the most ridiculous of these offerings is Jersey Shore, in which a duck-faced hobbit attempts to have “Snooki” with any half-attractive dude. I haven’t actually watched enough to know for sure if this is the real situation, though.

Dangerboy can't handle the Snooki. You know she's at least a 2-bagger.

These shows are as real as wrestling, and typically have scripts, or at the very least scenarios to improv scenes in. That, I think, is what I find most offensive about the genre. The true reality shows that operate as journalistic documentaries actually show you the way things are, only slightly skewed by the presence of a camera. Reality TV, however, destroys what it observes, like some bizarre twist on Quantum Physics. (If you put Charlie Sheen in a box, is he fucking wasted in every parallel universe?)

I’ll admit that I have a sliver of hypocrisy here, there are some “reality” shows that draw my interest. I’ve noted that it’s usually based on something I do or have interest in, or in the production values. If it’s produced well (i.e So You Think You Can Dance after auditions are over), then I can watch the art created by the “real” people, and just enjoy it. If it’s something I find interesting, such as tornados, I can ignore some of the “human drama” aspects of Storm Chasers and just watch cool HD footage of twisters. My hypocrisy goes only so far, though.

(Aside the first: Sadly rare on that show, I’d love for them to do a Blu-Ray of nothing but storm footage, with none of the “human elements.” Maybe David Attenborough could narrate it?) (Further aside: One of the dudes has gotten data from inside twisters now…show me that! That I’m interested in! I don’t give a flying crap if his cameraman is replaced by his girlfriend in a chase, I want to know what the atmospheric pressure was in the core of that thing!)

And so I salute you, Reality TV. But I salute you with one finger. Guess which one. May we all recover from your midget-cake-vote-sing-drama-rehab-fakefest and watch some art from time to time.

Another very special thanks to Wifefish for today's art.

The Lighter Side of the Story, aka Oversharing with Dangerboy

One wouldn’t think that infertility testing could be hilarious, but one would be wrong. One would be very wrong.

In the midst of the doctors poking and prodding my twig and berries, (mostly the berries...ouch!) I was sent to give a sample at the lab. If you think this might be a bit awkward, you would be very right.

Fortunately, I have both a sense of humor and a sense of perspective. Some guys I know have expressed horror at the thought of having to go to such a place. I scoff. We guys are privileged in this category. We never have to hear the word “speculum”. When looked at in this light, a little bit of non-recreational alone time is not so big a deal. Can I get an amen, ladies?

Pro tip: do not ask the cute nurse to “give you a hand.” She’s heard that one. 146,783 times.

Entering the “sample delivery room”, the nurse pointed out the “useful materials” and handed me the cup. I took a slow, deep breath, trying my absolute best not to blush. I may have succeeded. I may not have. She darted from the room, leaving me alone for my hot date with me.

Pro tip. That can of Lysol in the corner is your new friend. This lab has been open for 17 years. Think about it.

I of course looked around the room at said useful materials…I mean, free porn is free porn, right? I looked at the stack of magazines first. Lying on top was an issue of Cosmo. Cosmo? COSMO?? I think we’ve identified the problem. If your first choice for inspirational material to accompany packing the hand cannon is Cosmo, it’s entirely possible you should hang it up right now. I mean, wasn’t that the magazine that had Hasslehoff with the pug in his lap?

I continued to look at the magazines, my curiosity piqued. The next offering had a photoshoot of Paris Hilton in various outfits. Sorry, gang, that’s not going to help. I’m sure she’s helped a lot of men get there, but usually in person. Of course, if bagging skeletons is your thing, have at.

The rest of the stack was somewhat predictable, with appearances by Playboy, Penthouse, and a couple of, shall we say, specialty magazines. I had no idea you could do that with feet. I can’t unsee that. Why can’t I unsee that?

Pro tip: You really can't unsee that. Don't let curiosity get the better of you. It freaking killed the cat...you really think you're going to do better?

Finished with the perusal of the magazine stack, I took a look at the video they had available to inspire a ménage-a-mois. The title read “All Anal Action volume 9.” I think we have identified your problem. That’s not where it goes for baby-makin’, people. A mental “helloooooo…McFlyyyyyy” passed, and I decided to eschew the video.

I won’t go into the details, but eventually I had a sample to turn in. This, it turns out, is when my internal monologue decided to really crank it up. That same cute nurse is there at the desk, waiting. And she knows what you’ve done. A thousand witty remarks passed through the halls of bad ideas. I just couldn’t bring myself to utter any of them. I decided I’d be polite about this. I turned in the paperwork and the cup, and just smiled and said thank you. Unfortunately, I really just can’t help myself some days.

“Have a nice day” she said.

“I did!” I said. And out the door I went.

Things I Hate, vol 7

Strap in, gang. This has a bit less writing style and a bit more righteous indignation than usual, but gosh darnit, I’m just peeved, Wally.

Behold, the modern “reporter” or “news anchor”. If you’re looking for an asshat with a strong opinion and a platform to spew it from, look no further. In fact, let’s just dive into a true Dangerboy rant with a massive condemnation of the entire 5 minute news cycle.

So, in case you missed it, some whack job went ballistic with a gun and offed some people who just happen to be involved in politics. Way to go, asshole. Thanks for being a complete and total fuckwad, and ending some lives, including a child. I hope they put you under the jail, fuckhole. That shit just puts my daddy rage on about 11.

But I’m not ranting about killers today. Today, I’m firing the broadside of my displeasure at the media that couldn’t wait 15 minutes before deciding that it was “THEIR FAULT”. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, over?

So, somehow this is all the fault of the Tea Party? It’s the fault of the Democrats? It’s Palin’s fault? It’s Obama’s fault? I’m sorry, Olberman/Beck/Fox/CNN/MSNBC/etc. but I just don’t see how you can report this with no facts and no suspicion of fact 15 minutes after the event. Where did you get your degrees in journalism, Wossamotta U?

Furthering the insult, this tone has dominated the news cycle for the entire week. The political angle of the story rules with an iron fist, shoving seekers of actual news away like bouncers outside that really exclusive club you’re just dying to get into.

Boys and girls, you in the media need to tone it down about 43 notches and reduce the metaphoric decibels to something less than the flight deck of the USS Nimitz. Watching you talking heads pontificate on this is like watching Paris Hilton mudwrestle a declawed velociraptor, it’s silly and you know somebody’s going to sprain a brain cell.

More entertaining, less chance of aneurism.

Seriously, what does it say about your “noble craft” when the finest source of commentary on the whole situation is a freaking satirist on Comedy Central? It’s become a joke, boys and girls. And while we’re all distracted by the ping pong match of left vs right, a whole lot of people are getting rich on a whole bunch of lemmings following blindly along in the “hateTHEMathon” they’re pushing off as “news”.

Why the heck can’t we just get the facts, denounce the act, grieve, and move on? These jackwagons keep digging deeper, looking through the lens of their own agenda, to find the nefarious “Real Reason” that somebody could do such a thing. I’ve read no less than 6 so-called “real reasons”, and here’s the kicker: not a single one of them is actually based in fact. They’re all opinion, spouted into the air to drive the left vs right, red vs blue idiocracy that we’re somehow a part of now.

I for one am having none of it. Obama didn’t tell this guy to do it. Palin didn’t tell this guy to do it. Their metaphors of fighting and winning didn’t tell this guy to do it. Black Sabbath didn’t put it backwards on a record. It wasn’t Mickey Mouse.

As you can tell, I’ve gotten tired of it, gang. It seems every news story has to be political nowadays. Somebody loses their job? It’s Bush’s fault. Somebody gets sick? It’s Obama’s fault. Somebody’s dog gets run over? There should be an anti driving over dogs law, and it should be the democrats’ fault. Somebody shoots a spitwad at a teacher through a bic pen? They should be arrested for “deadly weapons” and it can be the Repuclican’s fault. The reporters are spending so much time telling us what we should be afraid of in the “if it bleeds it leads” bullshit, that they’re forgetting to tell us what happened today.

It’s gotten to the point where I’d rather watch documentaries on molds, spores, and fungi than any news program. I’d rather listen to William Hung sings the hits than any of these so-called news people make a single report. This newsertainment has to stop. Not only is it a bad neologism, it’s a bad idea, and it leaves my brain spattered against the wall from the monstrous aneurism I get trying to wrap my brain around the kernels of fact in the stories.

And so I salute you, the so called “News”. But I salute you with one finger. Guess which one. I hope you all grow up to be nice men and women, but for now, you’re just a bunch of disembodied heads on a TV screen screaming louder than Little Danger after getting his shots, craving attention and ratings. And don’t get me started on the politicians themselves…that rant will go on for days.

On a more serious note, I truly agree with that Satirist, Jon Stewart, in his sentiment to create a better world after each tragedy we encounter. Let's not be politicized by this, but remember that we can disagree without hatred. Whatever side of the aisle we profess allegiance to, whatever cause we choose to champion, the other side are not enemies but merely us, with different views. Save your hate for something really worth it. I suggest spewing it out in silly rants that make people laugh, where it is released and transformed and can do no harm.

Also, fellow Americans, try the BBCA news if you have access to it. The Brits do a good job of not having a strong opinion about our issues, it's refreshing.