Saturday, February 05, 2011
Marriage 301, Lecture 537: The Teevee
I have been meaning to write about this and had forgotten and now it's not timely. I only remembered because on the torn-out magazine subscription form on my nightstand where I have been scribbling notes for ideas for supper (pesto mashed potatoes!) and for my memoir that will be published once certain events have come to pass, I also had written something that looked like, "Sh amId."
I had no idea what it meant. "Sh amId?" What was that? Was it important? I often scribble notes to myself as I am about to fall asleep because that's when I get all my best ideas. But this one might have been scribbled under the influence of Excedrin PM, which I take for occasional sleeplessness or strong SH snoring, as there was last night. He snored and snored and snored, bless his exhausted working until 2 a.m. the night before heart. Even with earplugs, I couldn't fall asleep so finally at 11:33 p.m., I was forced to drug myself into submission, which meant that at 8 a.m., when the cats started whining, I awoke to a sleeping pill hangover.
But anyway. After looking at it and saying it out loud, I realized that it was "SH American Idol."
I had meant to write about the Milwaukee American Idol tryouts last week. We watched them with our new antenna on our cable-free TV. Ha to you Time Warner! We were fools, fools! to be paying for cable TV all this time. Paying not to watch TV. We can see everything we want to see - the superbowl and American Idol in Milwaukee - on network TV.
SH got indignant every time there was a bad singer. Even the sight of Jennifer Lopez was not enough to calm him.
"Why do they let bad singers get to the judges?" he moaned. "Why?!" He was being tortured, he was convinced. Because it's all a vast conspiracy to make him listen to bad singing. "I sing better than that!" he snapped when the Civil War re-enactor guy sang.
He put his head in his hands in pain. "Why why why?"
I was bothered by the bad singers for another reason: it seems rather mean-spirited to put someone on national TV who can't sing knowing that person will be mocked and publicly humiliated. At the same time, surely someone must have warned them - a friend, a relative - "You know you really don't sing as well as you think you do." I would want someone to keep me from humiliating myself nationally. I would.
But SH was just bothered by the idea of forcing people to listen to bad singing. "They shouldn't be allowed to get that far," he proclaimed.
"But that's the part people want to see! They want to see the judges slap these people down," I explained.
"What about the good singing?" he moaned.
"This show is not about good singing," I told him. "It's about selling advertising and people like to feel superior and they can't do that if everyone is good. You should never become a TV executive."