Are you familiar with fad-speak? Sure you are. Or do I have to give you a wake-up call? Or tell you it’s time to smell the roses? Or maybe that you need a reality check. Because if we’re on the same page, then you should be having fun yet. Unless you’re having a midlife crisis. Or if that’s on the back burner, then maybe a senior moment?
Have you ever wondered about the source of these phrases? Probably not, because you have more important things to think about. But having too much time on my hands, and not wanting to deal with more essential matters, like what to make for dinner, I confess to wasting precious minutes pondering the origins of these memes.
They’re ba-a-a-a-ck! Along with the tulip shoots pushing up through the snow, the robins, the melting ice, and the mud, the coming of spring marks a new season of Reality TV. But is it really new?
From the commercials, I see the same young faces and half-clad bodies with not a single love handle to be spotted in the entire group. The days and times might be different, but it is quite clear from the lack of Silver Sneakers, that not one television executive heeded my suggestions for winning an “older” audience.
I consider myself to be a peaceable person. On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 representing the highest tolerance for any situation that portends violence, I would rate myself a minus 5.
I’m against the death penalty. I bring a scarf to the movies so I can pull it over my eyes if the background music suggests that something ominous is pending.
I contribute to the ASPCA. I don’t even kill the insects that find their way into my home, but instead, try to shoo them outside. Except for mosquitoes. But I consider that self defense.
Friends – even if you are one of those people who claim to be only vaguely interested in television, and swear that you watch only PBS soap operas, British spy movies, The History Channel, or Bloomberg Business, you must be aware that the new season is upon us. I, for one, am an unabashed TV viewer, and I confess this with the same courage with which I owned up to my Cool Whip addiction. I do not ask for forgiveness.
As devoted as I am to police dramas, post-mortem dissections, and Jeopardy, I have so far failed to understand the public’s attraction to Reality TV. I have experienced it at least enough to decide that even five minutes is four minutes too long. I find Honey Boo-Boo exactly that, and if I had watched the Kardashian daughters when I was in my child-bearing years, I probably would have run to my ob-gyn demanding to have my tubes tied.