4.29.2007
Granddad Spire
I inherited my rant gene from him.
About once a week I visit Granddad Spire. He's more or less confined to his small one-story house set back from the street. When I arrive he says he's glad to see his favorite grandson. I don't point out that I'm his only grandson.
Sometimes Granddad Spire is alert, sharp as a tack. On other occasions, he's a bit fuzzy, due to his age and his long list of meds.
He's happy when I read the newspaper to him. He claims his eyesight is shot but I know his vision is OK; me reading the paper is a way of generating topics for conversation.
I start with the obits. Lately Granddad Spire has fallen into a routine of knowing all of the recently deceased, but not in a good light. I mention the name of a woman who recently "passed on into the arms of the Lord."
Granddad Spire snorts. "Her? Biggest whore around. Used to hang around the bars all her life, take home three or four men at a time. She slowed down to two men when he got old and had to use a walker."
I don't tell him that he's confused. I skip to another name, not mentioning that the woman in question spent most of her life as a nun.
For Granddad Spire local and world events blend in together. When I read a news item datelined Washington, DC, he reacts as if the event had taken place right at home. Part of the confusion is that he jumbles up similar-sounding surnames from his neck of the woods with national leaders.
I read a story about President Bush. Granddad Spire was dozing off but suddenly he snaps awake.
"Bushey? They made one of them company president at the mill? I tell you I never met a Bushey who wasn't dumber than a box of rocks."
Then there's an article about the vice-president, Dick Cheney.
"Haney? Rick Haney. There's a lying sonofabitch. Talked out of the side of his mouth. He could sell bullshit to a cow. He talked tough, sounded like he was ready for a fight, but he was a yellow skunk. Used to hide in his basement when trouble came a'calling."
When he makes a statement like that, I suspect Granddad Spire is faking his confusion. Maybe he likes pulling my leg.
But I remember the time he reminisced about his childhood, way back when it was OK to belong to the communist party. The local communists would even hold a parade in his neighborhood on May Day. Then the demonization started, the years of McCarthyism. Granddad Spire doesn't say too much about those dark days.
So if Homeland Security shows up at his door, he can say, "You mean Bushey and Haney, right? I went to high school with those bastards..."
(C) Copyright 2007 Stan Spire
4.28.2007
TeeVee And The Nature Of Evil
TeeVee friends want to help you.
Aging actress Sally Field pops up on your television screen, saying she has the answer to your problem with osteoporosis. She hawks a wonder drug called Boniva. Of course, Sally is doing this for no compensation, a true humanitarian.
The first couple of times the Boniva ad is tolerable. After that, it starts tainting your soul. When Sally pops up again for the nth time, you say to yourself: “Hey, lady, I got your Bone-niva, right here. It’ll fix your osteoporosis.”
Another TeeVee friend, distinguished elder actor Morgan Freeman, haunts the nighttime hours when the networks are forced to give up ad time for public service announcements. In this PSA a healthy-looking middle-aged man sits in a professional photo studio, getting his portrait taken. Morgan appears on screen, saying you might be the picture of health but you must get a colonoscopy.
Even though you don’t watch that much TeeVee – you’re just trying to catch a few stories on the late night news – Morgan seems to be on shilling for colonoscopies every fifteen minutes.
“Hey, old man, shove it! And get a picture of you shoving it, too!”
The cynicism felt towards commercials now has seeped over to PSAs. And as you watch the news, you find yourself making snide comments about various tragedies. Then again, the way the stories are presented, the TeeVee news department is exploiting the tragedy to keep the ratings up. Asking someone “How do you feel?” after a loved one has died violently. Zoom in for a tight close-up to capture those streaming tears. See that a few times and desensitization sets in, then cynicism.
Most viewers keep tuning in, still entranced by the slick package, news as dramatic entertainment. High ratings mean more annoying ad spots sold, unless forced to repeat ad nauseam the same PSAs over and over again.
But you see beyond the illusion, no longer entranced. The parade of good and bad is sickening. The “good” are wonder cures and friendly advice of dubious validity. The bad has been transformed into infotainment. The truth sets you free but it’s ugly, corrupting.
You snap off the TeeVee. Sanity returns.
Seduction by the dark side is abated.
© Copyright 2007 Stan Spire
