IDIOT BOX SAVANT "Oh yes...perfect...make love to the camera...whoa, okay, enough, stop, please!"

Thursday, January 02, 2003
Copyright © Las Vegas Mercury

Idiot Box Savant: I resolve to be a better passive consumer!

By Andrew Kiraly

Well, we've started a new year. Hurray. Now pass me the ceremonial Little Debbie Devil Square-flavored gavel so I can bang it on my molars with all due solemnity. Here, here! The Savant is Getting Serious for a moment.

Indeed, in a weak moment of desperate prayer whispered to the magical sky-Jesus to please please make the hangover stop, I broke down and made a few New Year's resolutions the other night. In my quest to live the richest life available to a overbite-sucking moronibot such as myself, I recently resolved to make 2003 the year that I make the most of how I spend most of my time--that is, in front of the TV, ideally while pushing into my mouth an additive-rich food substance that advertisers have convinced me is flavorific, taste-tabulous, snacktastic or some combination thereof.

See, I've wasted too much of the past year watching junk. That's the thing about digital cable; its glowing promise of variety tends to manifest itself in the worst forms. This explains why--and here I quake with shame--in 2002 I've seen Revenge of the Nerds III, a full season of "Fear Factor," three episodes of "Manimal" and about 17 "House Hunters." Oh sure, during that time I made a few feckless attempts to leaven my diet with some more edifying fare, such as History Channel documentaries, but I soon saw through the ruse. I mean, after a while, it dawned on even my motarded self that all the World War II footage ever shot can only be shuffled and rearranged so many times before you run out of angles. What's next? Harry and the Hendersons IV: Judgment Day created from spliced WWII footage? Plus, if I saw another ad for the Rascal, the motorized scooter that turns seniors into deadly mall-crawling AARPtron 3000 denturebots, I was gonna lose it. And, finally, yeah, I tried watching some movies on the Independent Film Channel, but I soon discovered that the word "independent" doesn't mean "free from major corporate studio control," but rather "this film is about lesbians struggling with their sexual identity on planet Yawnboringchangethechannel, a world free from gunfights, car chases, explosions or naughty nurses." See? My junk mind needs a serious colonic.

So on Sunday night I watched "Nature," the award-winning PBS show hosted by David Attenborough, nature-lover and old person. The title alone made me grimace like I was about to get a mouthful of asswich: "Song of the Earth." Blargh! It was about the connection between the "music" of animals--from bird trills to whalesongs--and the music of humans--from Hendrix to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. I was hoping for at least one gratuitous shot of an orangutan in a Hawaiian shirt playing a ukulele--what a thematically ripe opportunity you missed, Mr. Attenborough!--but this was some straight-up, no-frills educational TV. Okay, I'll admit it was fascinating. But I'd probably have enjoyed it more if I hadn't been expecting a war veteran in a Santa hat to crash through my front door, demanding pledge money. Besides, the show never explained the music of Creed.

At any rate, there you have it. My resolution has begun in earnest. None of this is to say, however, that I'll totally give up junk TV. You know I'll be front and center when Fox airs "Joe Millionaire" next week, the reality show in which hopeful bachelorettes woo a would-be richie, only to discover he's a construction worker who makes $19,000 a year. Yow! Reminds me of my own failed relationships, in which women fall in love with the TV columnist, only to discover, alas, he's really a human toxicity test strip for the latest in snack food technology. Which reminds me: have you tried Gogurt? It's acidopholicious!