Voyeur to the Bottom of the See

I was watching a local sports program this morning, gnashing my teeth over the coverage of yet another loss by my team when I heard it. It's a phrase with a few variations but all spoken in that same patronizing tone:

"We want to warn you that the next scene could be disturbing."

Then, they roll film on some poor athlete who gets broken in two, with half his torso flung one way and the other half tossed in the opposite direction. Then they show it again. And again. And again, but even slower. Now for the view from the opposing sideline. Ok, how about the super-slow motion camera where you can see the compound fracture ripping out of the poor guy's sock like fragments of bamboo? How about from the quarterback's helmet cam? The blimp camera? The camera mounted on the jiggling breasts of the busty redhead on the all-important drill team?

You see what I'm getting at. They slow it down, spot-shadow it, magnify it, then bring in experts who either proclaim it's a good thing it was a clean break or solemnly declare that "it will be a miracle if he can even walk, pet his dog, or pick up his infant daughter anymore. That's right, just milk the currency of tears out of the collective eyes of the viewing public, you ratings-whore vampires.

But can you really blame them? They're just giving the public what it wants - or, more to the point, what it thinks it wants. Oh heavens no, you don't want to be the only nimrod hovering around the company coffee station who didn't see the latest horrific sports injury, police shootout or live panda birth. Why do people want to see this stuff? Because news is entertainment. Don't let anyone try to tell you any differently. This nonsense is important because you were told it was important, and, damn it, you WILL conform. Hey! Hotshot! Eyes over here! Look at me when I'm talking to you! See this? This is worthless garbage, but we're calling it news, so you have no choice but to call it news, too. And don't get any fancy-schmancy ideas about thinking for yourself and switching over to the other news channels, because they'll have it on, too.

Who in their right mind gives a rat's hemorrhoid about who was seen smooching who behind the dumpster at the Super-K? Jane Hollywood is sporting a new hairdo? Let's drop our collective dinner forks and slam dance our way through our family members to gawk at the television like Deliverance-area mountain men witnessing the extra-terrestrial invasion of aliens who look like a race RuPaul impersonators. Are peoples' existences so empty and void that they have to live vicariously through the lives of people who wouldn't piss on your baby if it was on fire? These are the same people who squeeze into the audience chairs on the Jerry Springer Show like lard-filled condoms, are experts at everything, and speak with that annoying head and finger thing. Their heads are whipping and gyrating like they're trying to mix cake batter with their chins while their stubby index fingers look like they're trying to re-trace the flight path of a drunk and slightly-retarded moth tethered to a porch light.

This is our America. This is us. It is who we are, collectively, to people outside our borders and to a generous number of people inside our borders. We have a bloodlust for tragedy and misfortune. And it's not relegated to television. Hell, the Internet is a septic ocean of misfortune. There's none of this "there by the grace of God go I" involved. It's more like, "ewww, that's gross! Disgusting. Ugh, how could something like that happen? Let me just look at it for another 45 minutes, talk about it for another three hours, and spend the rest of the weekend becoming an expert in the field." Aim high, graduate!

Hands up, who has slowed down to look at an accident by the side of the road? Pretty much all of you. Screw that - ALL of you have. I also used to, but I stopped after I thought about it. First of all, what the hell am I going to be able to do about it? Do I really want to see mangled bodies dragged out of the tangled wreck? Do I really want to see the blood and carnage? What if it is someone I know? Am I really going to help the situation by shouting "Oh my God!" and careening into the guard rail? Aren't I taking my eyes off the road and increasing the chance of another accident? And yet, even though all of these trespasses would qualify you for the gilded jackass badge for your uniform, it is still somewhat understandable, to some degree. What's worse is when a rubbernecker enacts one of these sins ogling a person who is pulled to the side of the road,to change a tire, get a speeding ticket or scrimshaw an image of the Virgin Mary on the jawbone of a whale.

In my mind, I have effectively eliminated half of this country's population. Please, oh please let me be God for fifteen minutes. Just think of the time saved standing in line at the food court after I would be done. Better seats at the ball game, fewer people to snake my bid in the last 30 seconds on eBay and closer parking.

Oh yeah, and fewer rubberneckers when I'm on the side of the road working on my whale bone.