Thoughts and Deeds

Television Commentary:

I have a very difficult time watching almost any regular non-fiction television program (with the exception of good comedy) because the fictional dialogue is so, uh, unbelievable. Therefore, I tend to ruin the program for other viewers, which doesn’t make me very popular. For example, I was walking through as Jack was watching an episode of CSI (Crime Scene Investigators). Two guys are standing over a dead body and one says: “Don’t worry; everything will be fine. All you have to do is get rid of the body.” Now those are two contradictory and highly improbable statements if I ever heard them. If you have to get rid of a body, EVER, nothing will be fine again. Period. And even to suggest such a thing is just plain silly.

As a night owl I’ve discovered some frightening but mesmerizing content in the reality genre, especially quite a few shows about morbidly obese people and people with giant fibroids or bizarre skin conditions. These shows are often accompanied by commercials for sleep number beds—but who needs one? Just listen to Lindsey Wagner, the product's spokesperson, for five seconds and you’ll fall into a deep and thankful coma. Then there’s that Hover-Round motorized wheelchair commercial with grinning geriatrics riding around in a circle to the Beach Boys’ tune “I Get Around.” Oh my eyes . . . and ears! I became depressed and angry all at once when watching this. Who asked those senior citizens to do such a thing and why, why would they comply? How were they coerced into such a disturbing act? It comes with a “free in-home test drive” by the way.

I’m still in disbelief that there is such a thing as a Pope Mobile.


Blank stares:

My son and I were (on a rare occasion) actually going on an errand together—to buy some things for his college apartment. Now for some reason, and I’m not trying to be insensitive, I’ve always been fascinated with the idea of Tourette’s Syndrome. It’s such a strange malady, but I can’t help but think of some renditions that might be advantageous on certain occasions, like Slapping Tourette’s—but you’d have to have the medical verification necklace to get the most out of it and in order to avoid a lot of bail. Anyway, as we rode along I shared this thought. “What if there were such a thing as Woosey Tourette’s where those people afflicted with the disease shouted out words and phrases like Fiddle-dee-dee, or Pardon My French? Would people think that it was as tragic as the regular Tourette's?” David remained silent, then asked if I was having a flashback of some kind.

David’s girlfriend was about to be a bridesmaid at a wedding. She was perplexed that her parents and those of the other bridesmaids had been invited to the rehearsal dinner. “I thought the groom’s family were invited and the bridal party, not just the groom and the bridal party’s families. “Maybe they’re dyslexic,” I suggested. “I wonder if the groom will say ‘Do I’ at the wedding.”

Jack, watching the news, remarked, “Can you believe that Dr. Kevorkian is out of prison already?” “At least we know he’s available,” I answered. No reply.

Jack and I had a big argument over his obvious insensitivity. Soon thereafter he went out and returned with a present for me--a book by Ann Rule, (an admitted guilty pleasure of mine, true crime). He must have known I was really ticked off! Oddly, the title is "Too Late to Say Goodbye." Hmmm.