There’s nothing like a good rantBottom Highlights, Bill's Briefs Thursday, November 10th, 2011
Social Chaos: Bill's Briefs
Aging has changed me to a point where many things I once enjoyed are now things I just can’t take. This includes much of the TV fare of today.
For example, take those appalling Housewives. Most are rich (thanks to rarely, if ever, seen husbands) and seem to do nothing but shop and bitch, eat and bitch, gossip and bitch. Then there are the children parading around in slutty outfits bumping and grinding whilst proud parents cheer them on and pedophiles watch in ecstasy.
I also hate the “family fun” shows in which we watch home videos of grandma’s hair catching on fire from the birthday cake; or children falling from swings and see-saws onto concrete playgrounds; skiing, bicycle and skateboard accidents resulting in smashed faces and broken bones; and the favorite, baseball to the crotch. All guaranteed to send the audience into shrieks of laughter. Tied for most degrading are Maury’s show, where a guest tries for the sixth time to find her baby’s daddy, and Jerry Springer’s, where an innocent person is confronted in front of millions with the fact her beloved has been cheating on her with her sister, mother and/or brother. Furthermore, I don’t know which is worse – the guests or the audience members.
I find these TV horrors as I channel-hop trying to find an uplifting religious, philosophical or political discussion; I pause trying to connect with the entertainment of the masses, but I switch off after a few minutes.
My second-tier list of personal dissatisfactions consists of acts that always thrill me at first, but after ten minutes drive me crazy. On this list, we find people of amazing talent, as in jugglers, tap dancers, Japanese drummers (yes, I admit it), circus acts including clowns and even Yma Sumac (ask a senior). As for the high echelon of art and artists, they are not immune; surely one act of Gotterdammerung is enough for anyone; a concert in the twelve tone scale can only be chosen over attending an autopsy, and a lobotomy might be preferred to a second viewing of 300 photos of a friend’s trip to his grandfather’s village in Albania.
Annoying visual atrocities abound; huge people of both sexes in bikinis; guys with their pants about to fall down; people who complain about their jobless status but who have spider webs and swastikas tattooed on their face, neck and hands; those who let Fifi crap on the sidewalk and then casually stroll away, and yes, I’m going to say it, the couples, all types, who engage in wild kissing, petting and groping on the street. I don’t mean hand-holding, a quick kiss or snuggle. I mean … you know what I mean. Get a room!
I could go on, but my blood pressure can’t take much more. Rants like this are fun and they get rid of a lot of stress. Take time with some friends and make individual lists of your top peeves and hates. Then read them off to each other. I guarantee a riotous time will be had by all.
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