Defeat The Press
I try to stay away from TV talk shows. It might be different if everyone were drugged with truth serum beforehand - or at least drunk - so we could hear the true unfiltered voices within. Instead we get some really finely polished bullshit delivered in tailored suits and textured smiles. Yaaaawn!
But as so often happens in the shelter-hell in which I reside, I woke in the middle of the nightmare and dragged myself into the TV room in the dead of night, desperate for any bearable distraction. Blinking and half awake I fumbled around looking for the remote but instead my grasping fingers found this note: "Remote is broken. Larry puked up on it. Asshole." Lovely - someone forgot to give Larry his fur ball medicine (and no, he's not a cat).
The world is a freaking conspiracy, isn't it? God trying to teach us a lesson about learning to live together. I sighed, leaning back in my chair, extending my arms to match the cross upon which I was being martyred by the missing remote when my haze gray eyes saw still another note on the wall: "Use this wand till the remote gets back." Well, maybe there's hope for civilization after all!
So I grab this wand and right away it has this weird vibe to it like I haven't felt since I was kid - back before I knew everything. I looked for the manufacturer's name but all I saw was a logo labeled "Elven". Oh goody, elves made it! Always buying on the cheap around here, aren't we? I also noticed there weren't a lot buttons on it. What the hell, just so long as it changes channels and has a mute button I'll be fine.
Consume or die! (I did)
So I start flipping around through all the late night crap and it turns out for one to be useful in one's life one must be either exercising on machines costing the price of used Honda, snuggling under a stainproof blanket the size of a small tent or chopping vegetables angrily into dust. Always good to have one's life invalidated by the loud, obnoxious voice of Billy Mays at 2 AM.
That left me with recycled Sunday morning talk shows, the kind that make your ears fall off and your brain shrivel. They're borderline terrorism. That's when they start in on the Michael Moore film about capitalism or moneyism or this ism or that ism. Only the memory of the frantic, coked-up image of Billy Mays kept me from changing the channel (yes, I speak ill of the dead). But I could darn sure mute those talking heads - and that's when I noticed the extra button.
"A 'Truth' button? What the hell is that?" That can't work - can it?? This I have to check out. So I pointed the wand right at those million dollar men of make up and this is what I heard:
"Michael Moore doesn't understand human nature. People are always going to make other people smell their farts."
"I agree, mandatory fart sniffing is mandatory. If you don't appeal to people's desire to make others sniff their farts how do you expect to build a society?"
"Absolutely! Forced fart sniffing has always been around and people aren't going to stop anytime soon. It must be taken into account if one wants to be pragmatic and practical."
"Is there someone else we could talk to?"
The last statement caused me to do what I usually do when I see such shows: scream at the TV. "Pragmatic and practical?? Are you out of your freaking mind! You smug bastards don't know shit about human nature! Look at you idiots: like you know anything!"
"Of course, we all know the hazardous effects of over-inhalation of anal gas and that is why we need to tightly regulate this behavior."
"It's the damn Mexicans invading our shores with their Taco Bells and refried beans screwing up our system!"
"Yes, there should only be certain times when one can force one's farts onto the populace at large. What I can't understand is why we let those regulations lapse. People are up and farting whenever they like!"
These Einsteins just be hitting all me hot buttons. "You can't regulate farting! You deluded idiots! You cannot be this stupid! Gimme some of your wasted salary!"
"I don't think there's any doubt a society must be based on forcing farts on one another but that must be done in a responsible way."
"The real problem is the Chief Executive Farters running out of control forcing innocent folks from their homes."
"One thing is for sure - and it seems Mr. Moore doesn't get this - is if we disallow the forcing of fart smelling all of society would descend into chaos and ruin. Only the sniffing of farts ensures our future."
By this point I was apoplectic, a lost homeless soul venting at a TV screen in the middle of the night in a Dallas shelter in a country of maniacs in a world gone mad. What must the angels think?
Although I was highly agitated, I slammed off the TV and went back to my cot wondering how I was going to get off this planet alive. How can people say such things in broad daylight? No wonder everyone hates the media. But no one ever calls them out! I'm all alone, trapped in a world of holy farters.
Even God does it!
CODA: As the early morning fog cleared I remembered the true wonder of my middle of the night excursion: the Elven remote! I could hit that "Truth" button and then everyone would see the insanity! Try telling me I have to smell farts for food then, motherfuckers!
Damn, I hate it when I let my stupid anger get the best of me! I didn't even remember where I left the wand. Suppose someone took it! That familiar sinking feeling in my stomach returned as I rushed into the TV room only to find Larry's grubby paws fondling the remote - the old remote.
"No! No! Where’s the wand? Where's the wand for the TV remote control?"
"Wand? What wand? Ain't never been nothin' but this ol' piece of junk."
"No, last night..." - my better judgement was kicking in - "there was a wand on the wall and a note saying to use that for the remote..."
"Really? What for? This one works just fine. You musta been dreamin'."
As so often happens, I found myself standing alone and ignored as Larry sure enough turned to a morning talk show - and he too talked to the screen. "Right on, dude! You tell 'em!"
Then I got ready for my day of smelling farts.
Oh, you nasty boys!
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