A bit ago, A***** loaned me her copy of The Sex Live of Cannibals on disc. I enjoyed parts of it more than I can say; other parts left me feeling so light-headed I had to put my feet up. This book hit me in two places I live: a belief in the extraordinariness of the ordinary & the converse the ordinariness of the extraordinary. Also it made me laugh & completely grossed me out.While I was reading it, I realized I knew where I was when I got the same current-events-type updates he talks about (almost certainly weeks if not months before he did) & how I would have been happy to move to an atoll in the Pacific to avoid the bombardment of information. Or rather the bombardment of no new information. The endless loop of repeats. The on & on of nothing at all.
Which brings me to Michael Jackson. The reason the news channels are still covering Michael Jackson is it costs them next to nothing, especially when compared to paying Farsi translators or airfare to Colombo (the capital of Sri Lanka, not the crime family) or actual reporters (who have actual diplomas & actual student loans) instead of hairdressers (who have hairdressing certificates & sometimes GEDs).
There I said it. Now turn of the d*mn TV & go read a book. or talk to your neighbor. or call your mother.
I haven't watched a TV news thing since MJ died. But a few days ago I was having lunch with people I considered fairly intelligent and the conversation turned to how tired they were of all the coverage.
ReplyDeleteA half hour later (by my watch) they were still discussing the perv and I had nothing to add to the mostly boring slightly titillating conversation and made a note not to lunch (as a verb) with them ever again.