Maunderings

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Not to rehash a tired rant, but MY GOD just how much crap can be dredged up from the bottom? Quite frankly, I'm sick of seeing worthless loser humiliate themselves for half an hour on telly and, at absolute best, a couple lines in a tabloid. Forget that. I'm sick of seeing them, period. Those shows? The fact that they exist is bad. But you know what? The fact that they manage to exist is awful as well. You're unhappy with your weight? You don't need a bloody tv show to help you out there. Forget wanting lipo. Just get off your lazy butt and go running. You're ugly? Make-up and time spent developing a good personality so people will like you past the first 5 minutes of knowing you. ugh.

It's just... does nobody have any dignity any more? I am deeply, DEEPLY tired of people acting like trash. And then spilling their sorry feelings about it. It's not so much the home makeover shows and similar things that I like, or things like Queer Eye, where the person is just kind of subjected to the show in a kind of bewildered haze. Were it just things like this, with an occasional Apprentice or stuff, then it would be fine. What I do mind is the things that are the bastard incest babies of Jerry Springer, where worthless people bitch and moan about other equally worthless people and I just want to smack them.

But somehow it seems that I can't ever quite shake free of them, that the remote is just a tiny stretch too far when I sit on the couch knitting and absent-mindedly stroking the cat, chainsmoking if it's been one of those days. I have programmes I actually enjoy, and movies to watch and daydreams to fall into, but the crap tv is so easy. Much simpler to kill brain cells than actually use them.

So yes. I don't know what I'm saying. I loathe crap TV and I loathe the teeming masses represented therein, but it is such a wonderful respite from my brain, to sit there and watch the flickers and physically feel my thighs spreading underneath me. I eagerly awaiting next year when I won't have an idiot tube and will actually have to make an effort to get my fix of America.

But then, how will I watch Twilight Zone marathons in the middle of the day? I miss being unemployed.

It's kind of crazy, with all the movies to watch and things to do that I have set myself, that I still find myself in front of VH1's 100 Most Metal Moments (though I must confess to a strange liking for those shows.) It's part of why I read comic books in book stores instead of novels, or that evolutionary bio book Jura wanted me to read yesterday-- it looked fascinating, I just couldn't bring myself to deal with all those WORDS right at that moment. I was jealous of Liza for still having not read all the Sandman books(horrid link, I know, but there're so many sites that I just decided to do the commercial plug one)-- I read them in such a fast lump that I can't deal with them again quite yet. Plus, they need to lose a bit of the stink of my ex before I can face them. The graphics and stories are so lovely, though... I really do need to get over my need for pause so I can read them again. It's kind of scary though-- the sort of book or movie or anything that sucks you in to a veil world of daydreams that is so easy to superimpose over real images.

I've decided things of this sort aren't overly good for me, or rather are one of those things that shouldn't be good for me, but I devour voraciously. 'Twould be rather nice to have enormous fangs, rather like a sabre-tooth tiger, so I could accompany this thought with a demonstration, dragging my poor little victim du jour into the back of a cave and stand growling over it if anyone dares approach. But I wander...

Anyhow, I have rambled enough. I now shall leave you and go frolick through pastures new, by which I mean Jura has just called and I need to leave my office to find out what information it is he wishes to impart.