A recent article in the LA Times lamented the premier of yet another reality TV show featuring the hedonistic offspring of some vacuous ex Playmate as being one step closer to the end of western civilization as we know it. How sadly true!

Where does one begin to retaliate, who’s to blame and where might we direct Perseus to slay these matriarchal Medusa’s and their Gorgon broods. How many more lanky cannibalistic socialites with their cocked heads and doe eyed “No ones home” poses can we endure. One photo featured in the above-mentioned article shows two somnambulistic clothes horses exiting their mother’s obscenely expensive car cradling aloft their cell phones as if balancing trays of chilled champagne. Texting it would appear is their lives albeit in cryptic non-decipherable teen speak, spelling and grammar having been relegated to the Dark Ages along with manners, humility, compassion and intelligence. Beware we inhabit toxic space with manicured harpies who can tell you who styles Lindsay Lohan’s hair but not where the President lives.

It’s obvious that a great deal of blame for these trawling dreadnoughts lays with those within whose wombs they were conceived and by he who did the seed work. However one look at those responsible and one can only shake their head and utter “They never stood a chance” All we have is simply older versions of the by product, magnets themselves drawn to the exposure and unconscious humiliation they are subjected to at the hands of equally repugnant direction. The mothers faded wanna-bees; goldiggers who struck gold but whose sheens have tarnished with the years leaving them breast enlarged, botoxed and divorced. The fathers ballless, gone and uninterested, slick, well dressed and narcissistic they stand by clueless as redeemable carrots are dangled before their estranged mistakes.

And less must be said for the voyeuristic public who like those drawn to train wrecks and public executions must be held accountable for allowing such witless, and degrading entertainment to exist. Where’s the joy, what’s the point? While I have trouble understanding the fascination with shows about doctors and hospitals, pancreatic cancer and urinary problems not being my idea of time well spent I’ll bow out and say “Hey, just not my thing OK” but Paris Hilton milking cows! Are you nuts?

By the same token why would anyone in their right mind want to watch grossly obese people losing weight, grating helium enhanced housewives with six-inch fingernails savaging their husbands and unemployable losers attempting to impress an orange complected land developer with a beaver on his head? Not to mention the gratuitous originators that spawned all these downward spiraling avalanches of nihilistic shit. I guess it all started with MTV and mind-numbing pubescent drivel like “The Real World” an ironic moniker considering that none of those taking part have or will ever reside there. This escalated with all those “Millionaire” and “Bachelor” cattle calls where proceedings concluded with a dozen or so amped up Barbies in cocktail dresses salivating over some perplexed and tuxedoed Ken doll.

Pretty grim I’ll admit but just when you think parental guidance, the thirst for knowledge and common sense is on the endangered species list and that the needle is frozen on our moral compass or that in fact the thin fabric of society is about to split asunder and rain locusts and frogs you do as I did recently and go see Keith Jarrett. Yes, when the weight of the TMZ world and as pond scum like Harvey Levin and Perez Hilton continue to pollute our environment take a deep breathe and embrace creativity. Immerse yourself in the healing power of art, music and literature; it’s still out there.

As witnessed with the aforementioned classical and jazz genius some things just sooth the ruffled breast and wash away the noxious stench of muckrakers and tawdry purveyors of worthless information. One man and a piano can work wonders, inspirational indeed. As Jarrett said in complementing his instrument “I’d like to thank Steinway for not changing their product in 85 years” Amen!

It’s tough you can’t escape it, hey I pay no attention to any of it yet somehow it works itself into my psyche because it’s there in front of you even when you don’t want it to be. It’s on the rack right before your eyes at the check out counter, it invades your computer without invitation, sneaks into legitimate news channels, advertises in the middle of a good football game and lambastes you from billboards and buses, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Hell as I said back at the top it’s even on the front page of a reputable national newspaper, which is how this whole thing got started.
Back