Lately there’s been a lot of talk about America losing its status in the global community. Rumors abound about a failing superpower collapsing under irreparable credit issues along with a decaying sense of morality, not to mention a plethora of flailing military actions.
Consequently, I spent last night in front of the television – a location I so rarely take these days – wondering what type of education I might receive as depicted by the various nightly shows. I imagined myself as an alien visitor, absorbing American culture. Were I to return to my mother ship, I would have reported the following:
Americans make farting sounds from beneath their arms. Some of them stand – wearing waders – in fields of cranberries, pitching a sort of fruity drink. Apparently, they allow British lizards to negotiate their car insurance. For their actions, they have judges who determine whether they are competent at making idiots of themselves, or whether they have fallen on the left side of the bell curve and must return home to their cities where people wear white t-shirts and consume 40 oz. bottles of Schlitz Malt Liquor with unabashed enthusiasm, along with a strange penchant for what can only be classified as whooping it up when a television camera nears them – the whooping part accompanied by vertical finger gestures and the sort of dance once might undergo when the universe sends a fiery and sexually-aggressive comet after one’s spaceship.
Talking heads appear on various channels and discuss something called politics, where they belittle their nation’s leaders and allow snippets of speeches to indicate ignorance. More research required on this issue, although clearly these representatives are perfect indicators of the national intelligence quotient.
Nightly news stories are an amalgamation of social deviance, random criminal acts, and some seriously bad weather predictions – you’d think these well-coiffed, unbelievably-ironically-named and endearingly-big-breasted forecasters could figure out that bright sunny days do NOT include an 85% chance of rain.
One group starves on an island and performs odd feats of strength while another group exercises twelve hours a day in hopes of getting thinner – seems like two shows ripe for a combination. Thousands of deep-voiced and hairy Americans devour liquid hops and barley and very smelly corn chips – whilst receiving mocking epithets from laundry-toting screamers who carry children on their hips and seem to convey disgust and frustration with a single glance – as they try to keep track of excessively-tall strangely-uniformed jumpers attempting to throw a spherical object into a ten-foot-high net. (A foot is a unit of measurement here on American Earth, although the rest of the planet uses the metric system and thinks Americans are slightly retarded for not being able to figure out that 10 times 10 is a shit-load easier to work with than 12 inches – porn stars notwithstanding).
Other notable things: much canned laughter, 30-second advertising interludes where your average viewing-person adopts the look of something lobotomized, and a never-ending barrage of edu-tainment dedicated to the new features located on myriad gadgets and gizmos which allow this population of semi-evolved animals to communicate using a strange series of rapid thumb pressures in a way that would make your everyday thinking monkey very envious.
After a night of intensive scorekeeping, I’m calling the game on account of intellectual darkness.