A couple nights ago, I sat down with my tub of grocery store hummus/ some pita chips/ and a beer and flipped on the tube.
I let the remote crash down onto the coffee table as soon as I had the volume up to about 77, (yes, I am one of those guys) determined to just watch whatever the hell was on whatever channel popped up. Mostly though, I just wanted to attack my impromptu Lebanese/Bavarian ‘dinner’ and so I didn’t really care what came on.
It was that Jonas Brother. What’s his name? Jonas? Jonas Jonas? Whatever.
I don’t know how old this kid is but he looked to be about 15 and I quickly gathered that the premise of this thing was that he had gotten married to a pretty cool girl and they were now thinking about whether to have a kid or not. (WTF. The Jonas Brothers are having kids?! Was I asleep for 20 years?)
Anyways, I was crunching on a mouthful of my food and waiting for the moment to kick in when I knew that I was going to have to lean all the way over to the coffee table and retrieve the remote and order up something else, when it hit me that Jonas Jonas was actually kind of classy.
Here I was, two minutes in, and I was having a little man crush on this dude. he and his wife were talking to each other and he was respecting the heck out of her and her opinions and to be honest with you, I was sort of startled.
This was a reality show, no?
I mean, where was the bickering? Where were the a-holes?
After maybe five minutes, I was rightfully confused. The people on the TV were still being cool with each other, just talking about their future together.
I was stumped.
It was nice to step out of the Swamp of Stupidity.
Hank Williams Jr. is in the news. Yay.
The man that once wrote good country music songs about country stuff like whiskey and ladies and Texas and ladies from Texas who like whiskey has has some bees in his bonnet lately. Mostly, he just wants people to know that he knows that the President of the United States is a Muslim who loves gay people and hates cowboys and fishing. Here’s a quote:
“We’ve got a Muslim for a President who hates cowboys, hates cowgirls, hates fishing, hates farming, loves gays, and we hate him!”
Hank’s been getting some of his fans all fired up at a few of his concerts by spackling the Oval Office with his off-the-cuff ability to take ‘Freedom of Speech’ and pee-pee all over it.
This got me to thinking about Hank a little. Why was he so upset? He’s still out here playing his music, he’s got his fans, and they’re probably not walking into any of the arenas he’s appearing at for free, right?
I got to wondering. Hmmm, maybe Hank Jr. has always been a fellow who wants to balance the American budget and fast! But that didn’t hold much water, because, like I said before, most of his songs weren’t really about anything like that. Most of his songs are about things that don’t mention budgets.
He does mention fishing, though, so I thought, well, maybe I missed the memo that came out when President Obama said, “Listen guys, enough with the fishing.”
But, I don’t know.
I thought of my son upstairs in his bedroom, asleep under our roof, under a million twinkling stars. And I thought of my daughter up in her room reading Yertle the Turtle on her bed.
And for a split second there I found myself wishing that Hank Williams Jr. would go swimming in the ocean and get eaten by a great white shark.
Because, let’s face it: The Swamp of Stupidity is already overrun with mosquitos.
And sharks have to eat.
Honey Boo-Boo is a little girl who lives in the south somewhere with her mama and her siblings and other people too, I’m pretty sure.
She’s actually a very cute kid, very personable and likable. She loves her mom and her family, that’s plain to see, too.
She has this reality TV show in which, as far as I can gather from the two episodes I have seen, the point is to take a pretty poor American family and make them a little bit wealthier in exchange for exploiting them as if they were bears all drugged up on crystal meth and forced to dance on an old peach crate out behind the national 7-11, otherwise know as satellite/cable television.
In the episode I watched last night, Honey Boo-Boo’s mama goes out on a date with Honey Boo-Boo’s daddy, who is a somewhat quiet country-type with what appears to be a mouth full of tooth. They went to dinner at buffet place and the daddy gave the mommy a gift of a 50 pound concrete deer, which she didn’t really like.
Then they went back to the little house where the mom lives with kids but the dad doesn’t, only to find that Honey Boo-Boo had tossed about 4000 rolls of toilet paper all over the lawn and the front steps and all.
After that, I found myself thinking about my two kids upstairs, each of them in their own bedrooms, and I started feeling pretty sad about the fact that Honey Boo-Boo probably had to share her bedroom with a brother or sister or three.
Then, I started thinking about the people at the network that puts this show on the air and what they talk about with their friends when they go out for beers or wines or whatever.
“Hahaha!”, they must exclaim, between sips at the bar. “Our show is HUGE! We’re rich!”
And then I noticed that I was standing up to my groin in the Swamp of Stupidity and it was getting really dark and I could hear the sound of crazy night birds.
And it all smelled so damn bad.
Like people’s souls catching fire.
I’m no expert on stuff.
I know what I know and that’s it. And a lot of what I know is probably not even worth knowing, so there’s that to point out too.
Yet, the way I see it, we have, in a sense, created our own Dark Ages, where fear-mongering and lies and vile words have replaced real art and ideas.
There is a Swamp of Stupidity growing under our feet. It’s a thick lush dense forest of Dumb-Dumb Trees and vicious vipers and instead of a solid floor of dirt and leaves there’s just this dark stagnant lake of sour puss.
Grab your kids and run toward higher ground.
Let’s all meet there.
Info: The Dallas Morning News
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