I've been debating what topic will, officially, launch my blog into the stratosphere of literary poppycock. There are so many choices, especially with all the hubbub over the Casey Anthony verdict. I'd like to throw my two cents (although I think I'd be shortchanging myself, because my views on the verdict would be worth at least three and three quarter cents, which I would very happily round up to a whole four cents of information) around like a poker player throws his chips around yelling, "I'm all in" only to lose his ass two minutes later when Lady Luck decided it wasn't his day to double up. In short, our justice system allows for these vermin to bamboozle juries into innocent verdicts. Whether or not you believe Casey Anthony is innocent or guilty doesn't matter, because in the end she'll get what she deserves if she is guilty. The sad part is, if she truly is innocent, her life will be ruined more than it already is by the loss of her daughter. Don't get me wrong, I think the crazy bitch is as guilty as OJ Simpson was, but my point is, if we didn't allow our media to sensationalize everything from murder trials to the skid marks on Tom Cruises underwear during the filming of Mission Impossible, we wouldn't know anything about this trial and in turn, wouldn't have formed such strong opinions about a matter that not a damn one of us can change. The exhausting coverage and scrutinization of this trial, making it into a media frenzy only helps to devalue a system in which we first and foremost say, "All people are innocent until proven guilty." Assuming for one moment that the events of Caylee Anthony's death transpired exactly as the vermin would have you believe, then everyone who has scorned Casey Anthony, long before she was ever put on trial, has spit on the very part of the justice system that we hold so dear, "Innocent until proven guilty." Once again, I'm not defending the vermin (if you haven't figured out that the vermin I'm referring to is the lawyers, then you really should stop reading this blog, step away from the desk you're sitting at, walk slowly, but without delay into your kitchen and open the cabinet with your pots and pans and proceed to repeatedly bludgeon yourself on and about the head and the face making sure not to strike too vigorously so as not to knock yourself unconscious), Casey Anthony, the justice system, or that guy from Boulder, Colorado who was found in the tank of a porta-potty at the Hanuman Festival on Friday, but I am trying to show that we as a society need to take a look at our incessant quest for drama and "reality" offered up by these "news" stations that simply care about ratings, so that Apple can sell a few more iPhones. Do you really think Nancy Grace gives a mouses taint (rats ass is so 1980s) what happened to Caylee Anthony? She gets paid to bring viewers to her show, so that her company gets paid more by advertisers who inundate us with their newest, coolest products (Have you seen the new iPhone? It really is a work of art...shit, they've gotten to me). Not to mention our obsession, as a society, with pieces of human garbage like Snooki (I had to look up the spelling of her ridiculous name. If that's her real name, her parents should be slapped and if it's a nickname she came up with while doing blow and letting half a dozen guys have their way with her, she should be slapped {yes, I changed it to slapped from the originally typed word that started with a "s" ended with a "t" and rhymed with snot [I don't need someone thinking I really want her or her parents to expire]}) and other "reality stars". What the fuck (excuse my french) is a "reality star"? Are they better at life than the rest of us? A baseball, basketball, or football star plays their given sport at a professional level, that most of us only wish we could, and attains that professional level through long tiresome hours of working out and practice at the sport of their choosing. I'm led to believe a "reality star" must work extra hard at life, practicing life and making life their bitch to obtain the title of "reality star". I grew up wanting to be a professional baseball player, but I should have grown up wanting to be a professional life player. Does this mean our children will come to us some day and say, "Dad, I want to be a reality star!" "Son, if you want to be a reality star, you get out in the backyard and start practicing your drunken fall outside a Los Angeles nightclub. The bars about to close, the paparazzi have their cameras ready, you go make your mother and I proud!" I just realized I'm off subject and I kinda like it, it makes me feel dangerous and unpredictable, what's it to you? To make some semblance of a point, before I kill my readershipdom, I think we rely far too heavily on the force fed garbage our televisions spew at us on a nightly basis. When it's all said and done, all the anger in the world is not going to change the innocent verdict, the talentless filth they call "reality stars", or the ignorance of the Mayan calendars "doomsday prediction", but a faithlessness in the media and the mumbo jumbo they fertilize us with can change things. Stop watching this agenda-laced garbage on your boob tube and start opening your eyes to what it is you're really supporting by buying into the hogwash. <Takes a step back off the soap box before he becomes too preachy and is labeled an antiestablishmentarianist> I'm gleefully chuckling to myself, almost gaily (not quite Broke Back Mountainy, more of a Will and Gracey sort of way without the snazzy clothes), because I originally had planned to type about an article I had read several weeks ago while scavenging through every known online news story for the 30th of June 2011 (close to a year and a half away from reset {reset is what I'm calling the end of the world in 2012, I might even market that on some t-shirts. Who wouldn't wear a green t-shirt that says, "Don't get deleted on reset, save your progress now!"?}) and watching reruns of Survivor on Netflix. Oh well...
****Spoiler Alert (read further at your own risk)****
*NOTE* I wasn't going to say anything, as I assume my readers are adept enough to pick up on my smartassiness ("Not a word?" Do we really have to go over this again, because I don't remember my sarcastic reply to that question last time and I'm far too lazy to look it up, just to reiterate my previously made argument for why I can create words out of thin air to reach my literary objective.), but in case a "reality star" is reading this I'll expound on the final sentence of my blog and how it doesn't fit the overall theme of not watching reality shows and not getting sucked into the media. "No, not the 'Oh well...' dumbass, that's not really a sentence, or is it?" The last or second to last, if you want to go on believing "Oh well..." is viable, sentence is obviously a cheap attempt at humor by stating I was doing the very things I earlier stated we should stop doing as a society. I can picture Snooki, the light bulb clicking on over her head and her shaking her fist at the screen, saying, "You cheeky little bastard" (not sure why she'd say cheeky, but it'll make me sleep better tonight knowing I used the word "cheeky" in this blog...CHEEKY).
No comments:
Post a Comment