Folgers? No. Global Mayhem is the ideal day starter.
A night of insomnia.
I awake to some monaural 70's groove, quickly silenced by a hand slap. Wasn't really enough; the lack of sleep tugs me back into slumberland. Moments later the TV clicks on. Must be the real deal. Boss (who also happens to be Pops) means business. Hotel room still dark save the glow of the Today Show. Talking heads offer fake care as they banter, and then the mood changes. I was still too groggy to decipher, but I think they titled this segment "Death is the 'In' Thing." Some souless black woman with the bug eyes stares gravely at the prompter and recites the scrolling carnage while visual proof flicks in intermittently. I think we started the day with a car bombing in Iraq (That's right, kids! We can't forget that Arabs kill people!!), followed by a missing girl turning up dead or something (That's right, parents! Never let your kids outside!!), followed by shark attacks (da na...), and then something about a plane crash. Welcome to your day! Ain't it great to be alive? Now go ahead out into that world and maybe end up a statistic!
I protest.
Subsequently surreptitiously accused of being "sensitive."
Irritable the rest of the day.
Zounds. Boss just came in (while I write this) to over-the-shoulder me. How ill timed. I tell him to piddle off.
Anyhow, the point is: the Today Show has been the number 1 morning show in America for the past 8 years. That means that the highest percentage of morning show watchers tune in to let Katie and Al decide what they're going to be thinking about "today." Granted I didn't catch the rest of Today's ever-so-salient gossip, but if this is what America wakes up to every morning, no fucking wonder we're medicating seven-year-olds. Yes, there is bad news worldwide, and people die in various creative ways. Just how much is each of our lives enhanced by hearing it from a glossy media puppet? We might as well have sewage trucks back into our living rooms and spray their goods all over our leather couches.
Katie Couric (sp?) is satan's estranged wife. She only smiles 'cause she knows each grin equals one random baby's death.
I awake to some monaural 70's groove, quickly silenced by a hand slap. Wasn't really enough; the lack of sleep tugs me back into slumberland. Moments later the TV clicks on. Must be the real deal. Boss (who also happens to be Pops) means business. Hotel room still dark save the glow of the Today Show. Talking heads offer fake care as they banter, and then the mood changes. I was still too groggy to decipher, but I think they titled this segment "Death is the 'In' Thing." Some souless black woman with the bug eyes stares gravely at the prompter and recites the scrolling carnage while visual proof flicks in intermittently. I think we started the day with a car bombing in Iraq (That's right, kids! We can't forget that Arabs kill people!!), followed by a missing girl turning up dead or something (That's right, parents! Never let your kids outside!!), followed by shark attacks (da na...), and then something about a plane crash. Welcome to your day! Ain't it great to be alive? Now go ahead out into that world and maybe end up a statistic!
I protest.
Subsequently surreptitiously accused of being "sensitive."
Irritable the rest of the day.
Zounds. Boss just came in (while I write this) to over-the-shoulder me. How ill timed. I tell him to piddle off.
Anyhow, the point is: the Today Show has been the number 1 morning show in America for the past 8 years. That means that the highest percentage of morning show watchers tune in to let Katie and Al decide what they're going to be thinking about "today." Granted I didn't catch the rest of Today's ever-so-salient gossip, but if this is what America wakes up to every morning, no fucking wonder we're medicating seven-year-olds. Yes, there is bad news worldwide, and people die in various creative ways. Just how much is each of our lives enhanced by hearing it from a glossy media puppet? We might as well have sewage trucks back into our living rooms and spray their goods all over our leather couches.
Katie Couric (sp?) is satan's estranged wife. She only smiles 'cause she knows each grin equals one random baby's death.