Wednesday
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5/5/05
None Of My Damn Business
Picture, if you will, a balmy summer evening during which you sit impatiently on a bench roughly half way between the bandstand and the gazebo that dominate the center of your small town square. You have an appropriate amount of Dippity-do controlling that stubborn cowlick of yours, and in your left hand you grasp a small bunch of daisies as an offering for the sweetheart for whom you so impatiently wait.
A few moments later she arrives in a flurry of pigtails and saddle shoes, and before you know it the two of you have crossed the street towards the Grand Bijou Theatre, which has, incidentally, recently declared itself to be "Air Conditioned." It is, after all, 1951, and the movie showing this week is a prescient little Kirk Douglas picture called "Ace In The Hole," about a reporter who will stop at nothing to whip up a feeding frenzy of excitement over the plight of a miner caught in a cave-in.
Roughly two hours later you both stumble from the Bijou with a mild stomachache that, in retrospect, was probably caused by a combination of stale Juju-Bees and the film's disturbingly cynical portrayal of the ravenous beast that are the media and their cold, soulless "reporters" who are willing to exploit any tragedy, no matter how awful, for personal gain. Sound familiar?
Fast forward roughly fifty years and here we are, living in a nation that is now dominated by the ravenous beast that is the 24 hour news cycle and its "reporters" who are willing to... oh, you know the drill. So what's a guy to do? Well, for the last few years I've been shielding myself from most of the nonsense the media fixates on by simply ignoring it.
In short, until yesterday I really couldn't have told you much about psychopath Scott Peterson, wackaloon Michael Jackson, hapless Teri Schiavo or the proverbial Little Girl Who Fell Down A Well. But it was in fact yesterday that the beast that is the 24 hour cycle broke me and I was helpless before the media and the saga of their latest playthings: lunatic Jennifer "cold feet" Wilbanks and proudly chaste fiance John Mason.
And just how did I get sucked in? Well, I simply began to realize that the whole affair just keeps getting deliciously weirder by the day. To wit: the father of husband-to-be and world-class-sap John Mason had this to say to CNN: "As it stands now, he thinks there will be a wedding."
"He thinks?" Ok. Then sap-to-be himself says to Sean Hannity of all people: "Ain't we all messed up? Mean, haven't we all made mistakes?" Sure, John, it was just a mistake. Keep telling yourself that.
Then, just for good measure, Mason continues: "My commitment before God to her was the day I bought that ring and put it on her finger, and I'm not backing down from that." Ok. So he thinks he's already married. Sort of.
But then came a gift from Fox news as if from on high. Mason continues: "Our relationship from that standpoint [moving in together] is still very pure. We have not broken the sanctity of marriage yet, if that's the right way of putting it. In God's eyes, our relationship is still very pure."
Well hot damn if that doesn't go a long way to explaining a lot. Not only does Jennifer have the pressure of performing for six hundred guests, a bridal party of no fewer than twenty eight people and, get this: six, that's six separate bridal showers, but to top it all off Mason is telling us they're virgins?? In their thirties? How's that for pressure?
Or, even worse, suppose she's not "pure." Good for her, but then how are you supposed to react to a guy who gives you a ring of commitment right in front of God and doesn't want to sleep with you? It's not like you're a teenager, for heaven's sake.
Oh good Lord. Eew. Ick. None of this is any of my business, and now I feel all dirty. I knew I should have stayed strong and minded my own business. Now I have to go cleanse myself by taking a shower in the bastion of journalistic integrity that is the BBC. Or maybe the Guardian. Or NPR. Ahhhh, I feel better already.
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5/5/05
None Of My Damn Business
"Ain't we all messed up?"
-- Chaste fiance and sap
John Mason
-- Chaste fiance and sap
John Mason
Picture, if you will, a balmy summer evening during which you sit impatiently on a bench roughly half way between the bandstand and the gazebo that dominate the center of your small town square. You have an appropriate amount of Dippity-do controlling that stubborn cowlick of yours, and in your left hand you grasp a small bunch of daisies as an offering for the sweetheart for whom you so impatiently wait.
A few moments later she arrives in a flurry of pigtails and saddle shoes, and before you know it the two of you have crossed the street towards the Grand Bijou Theatre, which has, incidentally, recently declared itself to be "Air Conditioned." It is, after all, 1951, and the movie showing this week is a prescient little Kirk Douglas picture called "Ace In The Hole," about a reporter who will stop at nothing to whip up a feeding frenzy of excitement over the plight of a miner caught in a cave-in.
Roughly two hours later you both stumble from the Bijou with a mild stomachache that, in retrospect, was probably caused by a combination of stale Juju-Bees and the film's disturbingly cynical portrayal of the ravenous beast that are the media and their cold, soulless "reporters" who are willing to exploit any tragedy, no matter how awful, for personal gain. Sound familiar?
~ ~ ~
Fast forward roughly fifty years and here we are, living in a nation that is now dominated by the ravenous beast that is the 24 hour news cycle and its "reporters" who are willing to... oh, you know the drill. So what's a guy to do? Well, for the last few years I've been shielding myself from most of the nonsense the media fixates on by simply ignoring it.
In short, until yesterday I really couldn't have told you much about psychopath Scott Peterson, wackaloon Michael Jackson, hapless Teri Schiavo or the proverbial Little Girl Who Fell Down A Well. But it was in fact yesterday that the beast that is the 24 hour cycle broke me and I was helpless before the media and the saga of their latest playthings: lunatic Jennifer "cold feet" Wilbanks and proudly chaste fiance John Mason.
And just how did I get sucked in? Well, I simply began to realize that the whole affair just keeps getting deliciously weirder by the day. To wit: the father of husband-to-be and world-class-sap John Mason had this to say to CNN: "As it stands now, he thinks there will be a wedding."
"He thinks?" Ok. Then sap-to-be himself says to Sean Hannity of all people: "Ain't we all messed up? Mean, haven't we all made mistakes?" Sure, John, it was just a mistake. Keep telling yourself that.
Then, just for good measure, Mason continues: "My commitment before God to her was the day I bought that ring and put it on her finger, and I'm not backing down from that." Ok. So he thinks he's already married. Sort of.
But then came a gift from Fox news as if from on high. Mason continues: "Our relationship from that standpoint [moving in together] is still very pure. We have not broken the sanctity of marriage yet, if that's the right way of putting it. In God's eyes, our relationship is still very pure."
Well hot damn if that doesn't go a long way to explaining a lot. Not only does Jennifer have the pressure of performing for six hundred guests, a bridal party of no fewer than twenty eight people and, get this: six, that's six separate bridal showers, but to top it all off Mason is telling us they're virgins?? In their thirties? How's that for pressure?
Or, even worse, suppose she's not "pure." Good for her, but then how are you supposed to react to a guy who gives you a ring of commitment right in front of God and doesn't want to sleep with you? It's not like you're a teenager, for heaven's sake.
Oh good Lord. Eew. Ick. None of this is any of my business, and now I feel all dirty. I knew I should have stayed strong and minded my own business. Now I have to go cleanse myself by taking a shower in the bastion of journalistic integrity that is the BBC. Or maybe the Guardian. Or NPR. Ahhhh, I feel better already.
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