Anthony Weiner and Huma Abedin...again.

Oh, the sweet, sweet taste of quiet regurgitation.

And so here we are again.  

Another politician with yet, another juvenile, diabolical transgression, with yet, another humiliated wife looking on at yet, another news conference addressing indiscretions.  I may elaborate more about Weiner himself later, but for now allow me to repost from 2008, as the topic is relevant yet again.


REPOST

March 16, 2008

SMOKE AND MIRRORS

As of late, I have seen and heard many individuals, particularly women, ramble on about how angry they are with Silda Spitzer and her so called pathetic, codependent choice to support her husband during the controversy surrounding Mr. Spitzer’s recent, imprudent behavior; or what I have come to call—Seriously Spitzer, Could You Be a Bigger Narcissistic Moron?

To some degree I can understand this critical assessment of Mrs. Spitzer, as I must admit to my own knee jerk reaction upon first seeing her standing catatonic beside Spitzer at the podium. In fact, for a moment I was livid, yet slightly disoriented as to why I would be so quick to judge another's situation, as it’s not normally within my nature to automatically do so, especially under such an extreme and depraved circumstance. So I was puzzled, if not slightly sickened as to my disparaging response.

Seriously, what kind of bug did I have up my ass that day? Although at the time, I must admit that I was riding out some nasty cold medication.

I mean, justifiably our anger and criticism should be directed toward Spitzer himself, but instead we posture aggressively toward Mrs. Spitzer. It is truly astounding how quickly we have taken our eyes off the ball or in this case—off the bald. After all, Eliot Spitzer is the hypocritical, adulterous, self-centered narcissist who brought shame upon his family, not Silda. He is the aggressor, while Mrs. Spitzer and her three daughters are the victims, right?

So, why is it so easy for us to blame the victim?

As usual, it’s the media.

Upon reflection and in an effort to think outside the media driven box, I came to realize that I wasn’t at all upset with Mrs. Spitzer’s decision, but in fact with the media’s decision to methodically use and thereby assign a most subliminal term—“Standing By Her Man”—as the end all description for Mrs. Spitzer’s response; presentation of said subliminal term is of course complete with gripping graphic and melodramatic music required to further evoke drone like submission from the masses.

24-hour media loves the literal, injudicious picture. They would prefer not to truly think or deliberate, as both waste time, so the quicker to judge, think and/or deliberate (in fact manipulate), the quicker to air; the quicker to air, the higher the ratings; the higher the ratings, the more money they make. It’s a lava lamp of misleading, agenda driven information; hypnotic and painstakingly repetitive as it creates legions of disciples who are addicted and willing to depend upon 24-hour news as their definitive source for deliberative thought.

This tag: “Standing By Her Man," is an irresponsible assumption; a manipulative suggestion, with a rudimentary connotation that is entirely strategic, primitive and discriminatory in nature, while it leaves little room for interpretive discussion and/or deliberation. I mean as a viewer why bother with deliberation? There she is, demure and dutiful in her unassuming blue suit; complete with silk scarf accoutrement. She looks like an accommodating flight attendant: Can I get you a beverage Mr. Spitzer?  Would you like a pillow Mr. Spitzer? Hot hand towel Mr. Spitzer? The entire scenario is so 1950’s I could gag.

So I ask. Is she really Silda “Standing By Her Man?”

I’m not blind. I mean I see her standing there, demure and seemingly devoted as ever, but is she indeed supporting him?

Hello? I’m talking to you 24-hour news. Did you bother to investigate the situation before smacking this simplistic, suggestive tag upon her response and presence? Surely you have the journalistic capacity to sniff out a reliable source that might offer some insight as to Mrs. Spitzer’s genuine motivation for showing up to this humiliating press conference. After all, you hunt down sources to feed your incessant Britney stories; half a million reporters are strategically posted outside of Heath Ledger's loft waiting to get a shot of the velour covered mound (formerly known as Heath) as it/he is wheeled off into the coroner's vehicle. So what gives? Why this sudden, lackadaisical approach?

This tag: “Standing By Her Man," has become tiresome as politician after politician is compelled to believe that they are beyond the moral/legal law and further, entitled to break it: Senator Larry Craig, Detroit Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick, Governor James McGreevey and Senator David Vitter just to name a recent few. And guess what? All of their respective wives could be seen “Standing By Her Man,” albeit looking as if they had just thrown up in their mouths a little bit.

But should we be surprised with this rush to tag behavior?

No. As usual, 24-hour news has failed society. It has failed to consider that Mrs. Spitzer’s presence may be indicative of anything other than spousal dedication; that “Standing By Her Man” may not at all be about devotion, but strategy. For all we know she has already hired an assassin to settle all this cheating nonsense—although Silda, I wouldn’t recommend the extermination route, as I’m sure that your husk of a husband is friends and/or plays poker with the majority of NYC hit men, I’m just sayin’.

Yet this 24-hour assessment of what is indeed assumed accurate should be expected, as deliberate manipulation or at least partial omission is a symptom of the sexist, agenda-driven, one-dimensional society that we live in, wherein the news presents what it is we are allowed to see, dictates what it is we are allowed to think and therefore learn about our roles in society. They are corrupt and far from impartial, as they are in bed with cooperate entities, and therefore, riddled with sexism, ageism and racism. As a convenient source for news, 24-hour news takes advantage of their viewers by providing subliminal anti-group-of-the-moment rhetoric, which we (or most of) society will perceive as the valid truth. We don’t even realize that we’re being discriminated against and molded into thoughtless drones; drones who are taught to recognize that a woman should indeed “Stand By Her Man,” no matter the indiscretion because that's what we do. Put on your best 2-piece tweed, accessorize and smile lady because that’s what you do. Rub your feet, Mr. Spitzer? Would you like another blanket, Mr. Spitzer?

So, as I listen to women criticize Mrs. Spitzer’s choice, I think to myself, huh, nice job 24-hour news, you’ve managed to blame the victim and thereby turn women against women, wherein they cannot come together and give Mrs. Spitzer the benefit of doubt, support, or even consider that she may have her own agenda as to why she’s “Standing By Her Man.” It’s a divisive, strategic tactic indeed, meant to keep the masses from thinking, bonding, forming, gathering and revolting against the corporation and it works like a gem. 

To see the true off her rocker jenji rant click here

Look, I'm sure she has her reasons for standing alongside him at these press conferences, be it religion, her children, whatever. Perhaps she is a passive product of a patriarchal society, I don’t know.  I’m not nearly as psychic as Sylvia Browne suggests each one of us might be. My point is that we truly can't predict what it is that Mrs. Spitzer may be feeling and going through during this particular crisis anymore than we might be able to predict her favorite flavor ice cream. However, we might consider that there may be more than one explanation for her behavior, as even Neapolitan has three flavors.

So, let's deliberate for a moment.

Here’s a question: Has anyone stopped to consider that Mrs. Spitzer is merely protecting her children who have been emotionally abandoned and traumatized by their father's disgraceful indiscretions? That as a matter of protection she may in fact be determined to keep their world as consistent as possible by postponing the feminist solution—to publicly scorn and vilify their father—as it would only serve to further exacerbate these abandonment issues for her children; is that possible? Could this be a Mama Lion at work?

This is just a theory, but it is entirely plausible that Mrs. Spitzer might be gathering all of her energy to provide a stable constant; a parent that her vulnerable children can actually depend upon and trust.

So what’s the solution, jenji? You must have some sort of alternative title/tag up your sleeve that 24-hour news can implement in an effort to describe her response, one which might somehow remain neutral, while still presenting the situation?

Oh, it’s not a tag at all. The solution is that he/she who has deceived, wandered and/or strayed should be holding these conferences solamente, sans the spousal distraction so that we may then concentrate all of our energy upon the true jackass of the moment.

True Jackass of the Moment

True Jackass of the Moment In Training

Then I should think the tags would be quite easy to create--literal even. The problem for the 24-hour graphics department is that these tags would constantly change, as do the deceitful aggressors. What a kick in the pants for graphics.

Still, I should think that these tags would read something like this:

-Governor Spitzer Will Now Talk Out of His Ass and Admit Felonious Activites

-Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick Admits to Boning his Ex Chief-of-Staff

-Governor James McGreevey Admits Homosexuality and Buys Property on Fire Island

-Senator Larry Craig Admits Incontinence, But Insists That His Bladder Is Not, Nor Has It Ever Been Gay

-Senator David Vitter Admits DC Madam Is On His Christmas Wish List

-Anthony Weiner Continues To Live Up To His Name

Do you see what I’m saying? Now that’s simplistic and literal! The graphics department can thank me later.

I'm just sayin', take a moment to truly deliberate, to think outside of the media driven box and resist the mesmerizing, hypnotic, 24-hour lava lamp of complacency; consider as many sides of the issue as possible before you harangue and blame the victim. Make an effort to wade through the thick, 24-hour bisque of the day and whether vituperative or supportive in the end at least you’ve taken the time to interact before you react.

A bit of advice for Eliot Spitzer: although Mrs. Spitzer has been victimized she still has the capacity to react as anything other than a victim, for most mothers would agree—betray me and we may be able to work this out, betray my children and you’ll find yourself wishing you had never been born.

jenji

Alaska!

Suppose I was a big fan of alcohol-which I'm not-but say we suppose so. I would most certainly be inclined to transform Sarah Palin's Alaska into a drinking game.

It's simple: flip to TLC and every time she utters the word "Alaska," go ahead and take a shot. You'll be half in the bag by the first commercial break.

jenji

*I intentionally selected a flattering photo of the former Governor despite my absolute disgust for her as a human being. It would have been entirely too easy and predictable to post a photo of her holding a rifle or crossing her eyes. This selected photo is my feeble attempt to take the high road, however I suppose this impulsive postscript subsequently negates all efforts preceding.

It's Thimble, really it is...

Wednesday Evening:

jenji spent a full minute watching a frenzied contestant on a television show make a desperate attempt to bounce six separate marbles into six separate thimbles.

The suspense gave me a stomach ache. Truly. Or was it the production value itself? I feel as though I've been injected with synthetic adrenaline via the remote. I feel violated. Yuck.

That's 60 seconds I'll never get back.

jenji

And Now A Message From Our Sponsor

Rick Sanchez

Disclaimer:

It is nothing new to learn that I have serious and considerable criticisms regarding 24-hour news. However, the following message is not related to the political/social agenda of a particular network and/or their psychosocial effect/affect on society per se. Instead it is about a specific personality and while I understand and agree that the current strain and overall majority of cable "news" personalities--those who present "the news" throughout various networks--are generally problematic and troubling as a whole, for some reason in the wake of the current catastrophe in Haiti, this particular individual's need to punctuate horrific imagery through gratuitous commentary (as if such imagery cannot speak for itself) really stood out and rubbed me the wrong way.

And so, take note of the photo above:

News flash: You're neither a journalist, a news anchor nor a correspondent. You Sir, are a sensationalistic putz; a transparent talking head whose insincerity for truth is surpassed only by your insincerity for humanity and you should be ashamed of yourself.

jenji

Prognostication

Let me take a wild guess, Mr. Family Man: you're a sex addict.

Yes, spin your web of lies and then please, go ahead and join your cohorts in the douche bag suite.

jenji

An Urgent Request

For the sake of those with Asperger's and Autism.
For the sake of those animals who rely upon echolocation.
For the sake of mankind's reliance upon mechanosensation.
For the sake of all that is sensate.
For the sake of my sanity, I implore you Billy, please stop shouting, as the pitch of your voice makes me want to hit myself in the face with a frying pan.

Survey Says

And so in a moment of telegenic monotony I decided to give Family Feud a moment of nostalgic consideration--

Don't judge me, it was raining, cold and miserable outside and so mindless channel surfing was completely justified.

Now I must admit that I felt significantly jarred by The Host and his Bert and Ernie eyebrows. Then again, he wasn't nearly as offensive as Richard Dawson and his big bag of 1970's slap and tickle bullshit.

No matter.

And so the survey question read as follows:

Name an item you would want to have with you if you were being chased by a vampire.

--an entirely realistic question bound for the quantitative survey of 100 random people if ever I heard one.

And so naturally Andrea, from the animated ménage otherwise known as The Clark Clan, answered with the following:

--a wooden spoon.

I suppose what she meant to say was:

--a wooden spoon, a pocket knife and an inherent ability to whittle said wooden spoon into a wooden stake whilst under extreme stress.

I mean, clearly that's what Andrea had intended, however due to the productive time constraints for which television is required to adhere, I'm confident that the remainder of her answer--that is, her complete answer--was left on the cutting room floor.

These things happen.

jenji

Rewind

You know what annoys me?

Actors who play retards.

Hold on, don’t get your undapants in a knot—hear me out.

I use the word retard, when in fact I would normally use the term mentally/physically challenged and/or the actual name of a particular condition. Look, I have volunteered with Special Olympics, Meals On Wheels, as well as various other organizations and like most people, I know individuals who are mentally/physically challenged, yet I have never had a single interaction with any of these individuals wherein I walked away and thought to myself, “Wow, what a retard.”

In fact, whenever I hear the word retard I will often think of the actor; the actor whose interpretation and subsequent portrayal of a mentally/physically challenged individual will somehow ironically manage to evoke the thought, “Wow, now that’s a retard!”

So, when an actor signs on to portray the mentally/physically challenged—Down’s Syndrome, Autism, blind, deaf and the lot, as well as those who have been tragically forced to live within the isolated, claustrophobic walls of a giant, plastic bubble—there should be an added proviso within their contract; that in doing so they are thereby automatically eligible to receive a public flogging, as we the viewer will hold the unconditional right to bestow upon said actor should they manage to muck up any plausible depiction of the aforesaid challenged and thereby, through their negligent performance, produce a complete retard.

I believe that a pretentious and opportunistic Hollywood all too often perpetuates and produces this stereotypical retard through their formulaic, melodramatic interpretation of the mentally/physically challenged, which provides a distorted image for the uninformed viewer and fuel for the discriminatory, bigoted viewer.

I don’t mean to imply that all performances are irresponsible, as some are quite accurate, dignified and considerate.

Still some are not necessarily based upon a particular condition, but an amalgam of various conditions. I’m okay with that. As a filmmaker I can appreciate the creativity involved in writing, constructing, becoming and successfully delivering a challenged, complex character.

A few examples--these individuals have been pardoned from said flogging:

Jodie Foster in Nell (but just barely)
Billy Bob Thornton-Sling Blade
Marlee Matlin-Children of a Lesser God (then again, she really is deaf)
Tom Hanks-Forrest Gump
Dustin Hoffman-Rainman (but I never want to see him play a savant again)
Eric Stoltz-Mask (yet I must say that Cher ruined this film for me)
Robert De Niro-Awakenings

To be flogged:

Leonardo Dicaprio-What’s Eating Gilbert Grape
Rosie O’Donnell is highly offensive in Riding The Bus With My Sister

Giovanni Ribisi-The Other Sister
Juliette Lewis-The Other Sister
Ernie Hudson-Hand that Rocks the Cradle
Laura Dern-Mask
Sean Penn-I Am Sam
John Travolta-Boy in the Plastic Bubble (b/c frankly, Travolta isn’t even near as riveting as the real Bubbleboy)

You should know that Kirstie Alley sparked this blog entry through her ridiculous portrayal of a mentally handicapped individual in the Lifetime Original Movie Profoundly Normal, or what I’ve come to call, You Must Be Kidding Me, Kirstie.

Hollywood needs to get over itself; there are plenty of mentally/physically challenged actors available who are capable of representing and portraying the intricacies related to their own conditions.

For example, the actor Max Lewis has Down ‘s Syndrome and portrays the jovial son of a troubled young woman (Cate Blanchett) in Notes On A Scandal, yet the condition does not define his character nor his abilities as an actor; that is, Down’s Syndrome is something he has, not who nor what the character/Max is.








Max and his mother Sandy

When a non-challenged actor portrays the challenged condition it is the challenge that all too often becomes exploited, exaggerated, overanalyzed and gratuitous, wherein the spirit and essence of the challenged human being becomes secondary and superfluous.

We get it Hollywood, you’re diverse—you can be anything you want to be—your talent transcends all logical boundaries; you can drool, drag and limp with great skill and dedication.

But please, enough with the theatrics; stop playing retards and start playing human beings.

Don’t get me started on adult actors who play children.
Yes, I’m talking to you Robin Williams!

jenji

The Bionic Woman

Okay, so from 1976 to 1978, one of crime’s biggest adversaries was known as The Bionic Woman, played by Lindsay Wagner. This show was in no way meant to be a series, as Jamie Sommers was originally killed off. However, the writers decided to revive and revitalize the character after loads of infuriated fans expressed their outrage over her early demise (see: cryogenic hibernation for disconnected, bionic rebirth). Twenty-nine years later, NBC has decided to revive the character once again with The Bionic Woman. Don’t get me started on the title, however, as a devoted fan of the original series I felt obligated to at least give the new version a go. To avoid confusion, I will refer to this contemporary version as The (New) Bionic Woman.

Here’s the thing:

It's not that I can’t appreciate the resurrection of a classic program, it’s just that in doing so, the writers and producers have regrettably pandered to society’s addiction to hyperactive stimuli. That is, they engulf the senses with a copious dalliance of visual effects and leave the meat of logical dialog/narrative to quietly circle the drain of primetime television. Even worse, the one-hour premiere of The (New) Bionic Woman required the entire hour to illustrate the obvious details of this program’s title: that she is indeed a bionic woman.

But wait! What does that mean, jenji? Effects! I need effects! Flash, spin, and exploit some images, maybe then I’ll understand!

It means that she’s a bionic woman you moron.

Although some may argue that the original series (adapted from the novel Cyborg) was somewhat hokey with its melodramatic acting and minimalistic special effects, the series was one thing to be sure: efficient. Each week one was afforded a full hour of who-done-it entertainment. Unfortunately, our current choice of one-hour, dramatic programming will often insist upon leaving the viewer stymied and lost. Literally, Lost. Week after week, hour long programs like Lost and Heroes bait and lure the viewer into the 58th minute, only to suddenly spring a gaggle of new characters and/or storylines, thereby forcing the viewer to spit out their beverage and retort, “for fuck's sake, who the hell is that dude?!”

Seriously, I can appreciate suspense, but not every single episode. I mean, there’s a difference between suspense and manipulative trolling. Sometimes I just need closure, is that so much to ask? Stop teasing me throughout the actual episode and save the majority of that nonsense for sweeps and/or previews. In a world full of indeterminate obstacles I could occasionally use some constructive and satisfying closure. I have a feeling that The (New) Bionic Woman is heading down this obnoxious road of manipulation.

NBC incessantly teased us with the preview-- COMING THIS FALL: The (New) Bionic Woman. And so, the leaves begin to drop, my nose begins to run, the car insurance is due and Bubbleboy goes into DEFCON 5. Fall arrives and I tune in to The (New) Bionic Woman and what do I get in return for my patronage? Well, for one, a “revived” program that sputters out an entire hour of meaningless sneers, contemplations and cryptic one-liners.

Now, I’m not a complete curmudgeon, I understand that new viewers—that is, those born with the inherent ability to text message—may not be aware of who and what The (New) Bionic Woman (not to mention the original series) is all about. Naturally, a premiere episode would have a certain responsibility to summarize the details for the new viewer. I don’t have a problem with that, but for the full hour? Here The (New) Bionic Woman should heed the example of its elder.

The original series…ahem…The (Real) Bionic Woman, managed to condense an introductory summary into a simple, 2-minute sequence: the opening credits. I say simple and I suppose visually it was, but that’s my point. I just want to shake NBC and say, “listen, you don’t need to dazzle me with neither sensory overload nor matrix-like effects: really, the Buffynastics, driving porn riffs and women who flounce around in wet t-shirts, whilst aggressively shouting enigmatic, homoerotic insults back and forth—these elements aren’t required to get me to watch your show. I think we already covered and undeniably overdosed on these elements with Xena Warrior Princess. In short, stop humping me with your visual trickery NBC. I get it, I’m the fragrant target of television and you, television, are the alpha dog of primetime."

Perhaps an example of just how efficient the original opening sequence to The Bionic Woman actually was would help the new series work out some freshman kinks. Allow me to elaborate.









First, the opening intro to The Bionic Woman began with a snare drum and a ratchet—enough said.

However, in an effort to be more precise I will continue.

The opening musical theme had an urgency, an excitement that would simply demand your presence and further, compel you (or me, as a 7-year old) to abandon a full glass of Kool-Aid in lieu of missing said intro. The fruity beverage could wait until commercial, as clearly you were being summoned for more pressing matters. You can see the original opening sequence here.

The visual summarization of this intro went as follows:

beautiful heroine-Jamie Sommers-25-year old tennis pro CHECK
low-flying airplane CHECK
recreational skydiving CHECK
“shit! my chute didn’t open” CHECK
-critical injury/anatomical damage report via fancy computer CHECK
-“we can rebuild her” (of course you can) CHECK
-both legs CHECK
-right arm CHECK
-right ear CHECK
-concerned, brooding mystery man CHECK
-bionic replacement surgery CHECK
-estimated cost of bionics (okay, classified, but still CHECK)
3-dimensional animation of bionics with coinciding visual representations of power—
-she can hear CHECK
-she can crush a tennis ball with her right hand CHECK
-she can leg press more than any machine CHECK
-and finally, she can run super duper pooper scooper fast and frankly, it looks as if her hair smells terrific! CHECK

And now, The (New) Bionic Woman intro:

Zip. (for week one anyway)

The show just began. Hmmmm, interesting. Or wait... I suppose one could argue that the intro was there, it just took fifty-five minutes to complete.

However, let me be clear: these were fifty-five, George Lucas laden minutes. Too long, too fancy. Seriously, leave that shit to CSI, Tom Cruise and Spielberg.

So, here is what we did find out about The (New) Bionic Woman, albeit through 60 minutes of musical montage, captain obvious dialog and Lost like perplexity.

First, in the spirit of the current trend of mysterious Asian characters, a mysterious Asian character who mutters things like “I love you” and then subsequently shoots you.

-The (New) Bionic Woman, Jamie Sommers (Michelle Ryan), is a perky barista, but certainly not one who makes you say, “gee, her hair must smell terrific.”

-we meet another woman credited as the first bionic woman—who by the way I would like to refer to as the new first bionic woman, rendering the star of the show the new new bionic woman. Anyway, the new first attacks the new new bionic woman (no parachute, just t-boned by a semi) and upon learning that the new new bionic woman didn’t die, the new first bionic woman visits her at the bar and as any angry nemesis might do, teeters between the temptation to tear the guts out of the new new bionic woman and the overwhelming urge to deep throat a shiny brown beer bottle. I mean I get it, these things happen. Incidentally, the new first bionic woman eventually informs the new new bionic woman that she had her “eye, arms, legs and part of her chest done,” whatever that means.

Confused yet? Lovely. Moving on... There is

-an isolated compound that can only be reached by chopper (usually in the rain) that the new new bionic woman mistakes for a simple hospital even though the entry to her room entails walking through a “shhhhhuuusssh” like Star Trek door—even though the room is covered in wall to wall mirrors and people keep referring to her as the subject. And where you have a subject, one can bet that there is an experimenter lurking somewhere nearby.

-the OSI has been replaced by an Army-like establishment (how trendy) and Oscar Goldman by Jonas Bledsoe, played by Miguel Ferrer who like his character on Crossing Jordan wanders around aimlessly muttering ambiguous one-liners like “ when will she be combat ready” and “how long until the implants come online” through his husky, Miguel’esk, daddy-loves-his-little-girl cryptic intonations.

-we may not know how much the original bionic woman cost, but the new new bionic woman runs somewhere around 50 million dollars, just in case you were thinking of investing.

-the new new bionic woman is able to regenerate any injury to her bionic components because of anthrocites—yes, anthrocites—unlike the original bionic woman whose injured bionics resemble that of a splintered toaster, the new new bionic woman has the regenerative capabilities of a starfish.

Seriously...Can you feel NBC humping your leg yet? Can you feel the tug? As we speak, I think I have a callous forming on my thigh.

Finally, the new new bionic woman already has her share of rivals, but unfortunately I don’t see the new series embracing the intricacies of The Fembot anytime soon. You remember The Fembot, yeah?








No, no…not that Fembot…I realize the confusion.

This one…







The Fembot (click to see clip)

Now, come on...that's good stuff! NBC would probably consider such low class drivel and effects as virtual impotence. Yet, there's a lot to be said about a man, dressed as a woman, dressed as a Fembot.

The point is this:

Sometimes simple is better in the long run. Sometimes less is more.

The character of Jamie Sommers is not that complicated. When she was heroic, she acted and spoke heroically. When she was vulnerable, she acted vulnerable. When she was neurotic, (uh, boy could she get neurotic) she acted neurotic—although, this wasn’t so much a character trait as it was a psychological response to Lisa Galloway (her evil twin who has stolen Jamie's identity and left her bionic ass in the clink) who had a serious addiction to Adrenalazine. Yes, Adrenalazine. All I know is that it made Lisa bionic-like and looked like pink Play-Doh. This explains why as a 7-year old child I was compelled to carry small amounts of pink Play-Doh with me at all times in order feed my own bionic capabilities. I didn't eat the Play-Doh per se, but I gave it some very serious thought.

NOTE: When out of Play-Doh, bazooka gum will do the trick.

I digress, apologies.

Keep it simple.

The original Jamie Sommers, that is Lindsay Wagner, acted. I know, I know…I realize today she’s a crunchy, granola eating, Buddha worshiping, ethanol driving, yoga posing, hemp wearing mattress peddler, but she’s also an Emmy winner, so show some goddamn respect, would you? She didn’t depend on Sia’s song Breathe Me to act for her. Yes, they resorted to the musical montage whilst the lead actress pouted, sighed and sulked her way throughout this interlude. I suppose we were meant to surmise that she was, I dunno...upset? I mean, her fiancé was killed, so she should be upset, but it would be nice if she—oh, I don’t know—acted upset for shit's sake. Eh, everyone's a critic.

Sigh. Such is the drought of meaningful dialog and expression in contemporary television.

Update...
***Since the premiere episode of The (New) Bionic Woman I have had the opportunity to watch a few more episodes—what can I say, I’m staying optimistic. To my surprise, they have mysteriously abandoned the dark, brooding, special effects peppered pilot episode for subsequent hybrid episodes of Felicity meets All My Children meets anything BUT bionics--occasional bitch slap, yes, but bionics, not so much. In fact, I think I see more physical action and fight sequences during an average episode of The Factor with Bill O'Reilly. The show is called The Bionic Woman, yet Jamie Sommers rarely, if ever uses her bionics.

Psssst, NBC...seriously, break out the bionics. Okay, in all honesty she did manage to chuck a cantaloupe across a field in an effort to nail a bad guy in the head, but break out the bionics already or I’ll have to pull the rip cord on my optimism.

So, how to sum up The Bionic Woman for those of you who haven't had the (dis) pleasure of experiencing this regrettable reincarnation of the original.

Okay, you know when you're having a conversation with someone and they have something hanging from their nose and you just can’t quite figure out what it is? Yes, The (New) Bionic Woman manages to be just as grotesque and puzzling, but not nearly as intriguing.

jenji

We interrupt this program...

In society, there is a dysfunctional relationship between the corporation and the community. Specifically, the corporate entities of 24-hour cable news often become the abuser, whereby the community, society, and/or viewer, will become the abused.

Structurally, this abusive relationship renders one party deviously aware of its power and superiority, wherein the other, faithful and loyal to the information that television provides, remains unaware of their own inferiority, suggestibility and ignorance regarding this calculated duality.

Ann Marie Seward Barry wrote an essay entitled, Visual Intelligence: Perception, Image and Manipulation of Visual Communication, wherein she maintains that:

“The viewer believes in television, for generally speaking, he is convinced that the small screen, unlike the large screen (of cinema) opens a window on the real lives of people”
(Barry, 171).

For the most part, I agree with Barry and therein lies the problem. Further, I assert that contemporary television—specifically, 24-hour cable news—has taken advantage of this conviction by deceitfully persuading the viewer that the information broadcast is somehow a collective, homogenic experience—that this is reality and in reality we (the channel) are you. Au contraire. In reality, they are not us, nor should they be. They should document and present the news to us sans the manipulative and/or suggestive bias or spin and further, encourage us to form our own opinion and ideology; to supplement our source for information with as many outlets as possible. Our relation to the talking head should be irrelevant, for the journalists of contemporary 24-hour news fail to attain even a shred of journalistic integrity and impartiality and further, simply refuse to ask the tough questions. Therefore, the tough questions are rarely asked, the corporate spin ensues, the “real” reality skews and the various societal maladies begin.

Regrettably, a vast majority of our society will simply believe what they are told, wherein they fail to critically engage with the presented information. Abusing this reality, each channel harbors a specific objective and actively preys upon society’s pluralistic ignorance and passivity to attain the real reality.

In addition, they strategically overload our auditory and visual perceptions with dramatic melodies, while surrounding the chiseled bobble head of the moment with various icons, banners, graphics and an inexhaustible stream of post-9/11, journalistic text—other news—that incessantly creeps across the bottom of the screen, because let’s face it, we need to know it all and we need to know it now. Assign a trusted face to assault our senses, add fear and stir. Now wonder society is riddled with ADD, OCD and PTSD—we’re distracted, obsessed, traumatized and indeed entranced by the affects/effects of the all-powerful 24-hour, all-or-nothing news, fraudulent flim-flam cable news. And by all-or-nothing, I mean that they either overwhelm us with ambiguous, spurious fear (all) or distract us to the point of obsession with utter drivel (nothing). Either way, we’re too preoccupied and distracted to notice what’s really going on around us—events that in fact desperately need our attention.

Still, society continues to ritualistically gorge itself upon this feast of 24-hour news, riddled with fear, terror and panic, and we do so with a significant sense of urgency and desperate sense of futility—and yet, we are often unable to articulate exactly what it is that has us up at night because these methods leave the viewer highly distracted and incapable of any form of qualitative and/or constructive analysis. In fact, many viewers are generally unaware of this subliminal, cognitive assault and may instead feel a sense of community and camaraderie with their news source; that is, as they sit in their lazy boy dutifully nodding along with channel XXX’s assessment of FEAR FEAR FEAR they may relate to this experience in much the way one might relate to a live community exposition—they have chosen their source for information and they believe what they are told. We trust in what they’re reporting as accurate and thank them for it. After all, the bobblehead of the moment is our friend—a constant in an inconsistent world—and a friend would never lie to us, so we have faith in what we perceive as fact. Don’t eat it (FEAR)! Don’t buy that (FEAR)! Don’t trust them (FEAR)! Don’t travel there and for God’s sake don’t stay here—FEAR FEAR FEAR!

It’s no wonder that society is in a perpetual state of hypervigilance, as we are told that we are either going to catch it, lose it, need it and/or die from it—or that someone else is either going to discharge it, steal it, leave it or kill us for it. It only makes sense that after cramming this FEAR FEAR FEAR down our throats for so long that we are merely a mass produced and perfectly manipulated plate of pâté de foie gras for the corporation (24-news) to indulge in—and in our worried, restless, sleepless and anxiety ridden states, these corporations continue to relentlessly cram this cocktail of fear and doom down our already swollen throats—literally, through a cathode ray tube (quiet all you flat screen smugolites). And like our avian friends whose sick and swollen livers are created to satisfy the palates of the privileged and elite, our bodies have also become sick and swollen from this constant ingestion of fear and doom—our sickness has been created to benefit or feed the elite as well—mainly the pharmaceutical corporations and their investors/supporters who rely upon the psychosocial affects/effects of media.

This is the real reality.

In fact, it seems that the only reality where the viewer has a choice or shall I say, invitation into the analytical processes of television remains in the realms of the other reality; to be precise, reality television and it’s up to us to decide whether or not Sanjaya should stay another week on American Idol. In fact, I believe that this other reality—where the viewer is asked to vote and thereby feel included—was created by the corporation as a device to further distract society from the real reality by again instilling a false sense of control over something—anything—as long as we feel and perceive that we are important and being included.

They would much prefer that we perfect the fine art of dual dialing (using a cell phone and home phone to generate as many votes as possible for our favorite performer), as opposed to the fine art of getting ourselves to a certified polling station, signing in, nodding to the elderly volunteer, drawing the curtain and pulling an actual lever for a candidate whose talents and issues exceed that of wearing a mean pair of hair extensions. Honestly, what a true gift the corporation has bestowed upon us with this other reality—thank God for American Idol and her inbred cousins, for without them we might drown in our own miseries.

That is, as many people struggle to makes ends meet—working two, three or more jobs—they will still find that they must live check to check only to find themselves clawing their way around a bottomless pit of debt, wherein they cannot afford healthcare, rent, utilities, daycare or any other such trivialities like oh I dunno, food; some cannot find employment, while many others have simply lost sight of any realistic retirement. Yet, through our despair, network television has allowed us to keep the faith, for we have control over who’s going to sing the next Celine Dion cover song on American Idol which, by the way should be illegal in all 50 states. And the inebriated hosts of these programs make it more than clear—dammit, if you don’t vote, then you’re to blame for Sanjaya’s departure. They even triple team us—Simon, Randy and Paula tell us that if someone is eliminated, then it’s our fault for not voting and I hope you’re happy!

If only certain elected officials had the balls to admit to us that we’re to blame for their position, that it’s our fault that they are in office. As if to say, "You imbecile, if you dropped the remote and voted/participated in the real reality, we wouldn’t be in this powerful position in the first place, so it’s your fault. There, I hope you’re happy!" this is about the point where they would blow a big wet raspberry in our face. However, they wouldn't dare give away this secret formula of dysfunction, so we remain.

Most likely, we may take joy in judging and eliminating others on these programs because then we can then perpetuate this overbearing cycle of judgment and abuse that the corporation heaps upon us, as the abused can often become the abuser in another circumstance and how gratifying is that power I ask you?

Sure, we're merely deciding—that is, judging—the fate of an often tone-deaf 17 year-old kid, but oh how sweet the satisfaction of doing so. The subordinate sector can suddenly begin to feel somewhat liberated. You see, the corporation has the brilliant sense to throw us a bone every once in a while, as greed and a fervent preoccupation with immediate gratification can sometimes blind the corporation and thereby sabotage their own agenda. However, very rarely do they shoot themselves in the foot, as these folks have excellent life coaches to be sure. I suspect that these coaches are primarily made up of child psychologists who must break out the crayons in an effort to explain why conquering an already fragile population without reward may prove to be counterproductive in the long run.

You see, as society continues to drown in the real reality of everyday existence, 24-hour news and network television (the ugly stepsister of 24-news) have a premeditated partnership in how they inundate us with copious fear; however, not enough to send us completely over the edge—the crayon presentation works, I tell you. For, even the abused individual has a threshold for their abuser and it’s a mighty fine line that the corporation (television) has to walk and this is where network television tags out the meaty hand of 24- hour cable news and begins to allow hope. Hope to relieve our suffering, as we are permitted—in fact, welcomed—to become part of a democratic process, albeit a completely irrelevant democratic process.

As I mentioned, network television allows us to vote on frivolous topics and to further garner our trust, it incessantly asks how we’re doing, for it suspects we’re not feeling so very well and rightly so—in fact, network television has the solution.

Oh, network television, how do you know I’m not feeling so well? You’re so perceptive—I heart you network television. Please, share your remedy with me.

Around 6 pm or so, network television begins to urgently ask the viewer a myriad of important questions:

Do you feel anxious?
Do you have stomach trouble?

Seriously, how many times a day do you find the need to, you know….go?
Headaches?
Constipation?
Bloating?
Diarrhea? Dry mouth? Migraines? Blurred vision? High cholesterol? Low cholesterol?
Acid reflux? Insomnia? Arthritis? Restless leg syndrome?
Do you think you have generalized anxiety disorder? Bipolar disorder?

Do you have an unsightly scar on your face—because you know, as a society we need you to obsess over your body and perfection—ah, we mean you deserve to look perfect.

Muscle pain? Weakness? Fatigue? What about cellulite? You best get rid of that cellulite. Depressed? Depression hurts. Come on, you can tell us. Do you have an overactive bladder? Hemorrhoids?

Wait! It’s herpes; you have herpes! That’s okay, you can still lead a sexually active life (usually by the beach) with anyone you want—you can even ride bikes together! We at network television have the answer to your 24-hour prayers.

In fact, look at all of the well-lit remedies we have to offer for your various maladies.

And as the viewer, we remain oblivious to this passive-aggressive agenda, as we are again entranced by the suggestibility and consideration of network television, which has compassionately validated our suffering through a simple acknowledgement: that we are indeed suffering. Therefore, we feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for their concern, for we remain paralyzed with an inability to constructively ask why we’re sick—let’s face it, by that point we’re feeling so shitty that we’ll try anything to relieve our suffering. It’s as if we’ve been on an all night bender of toxic 24-hour news and now, violently ill and heaving, we’re resting our head upon the side of the porcelain throne and begging God for a cold washcloth or friend to hold our hair; and in our weak and vulnerable state, network television can easily become that friend. Although I am quite sure that they would much prefer that you consider them a God.

These corporations realize that this unremitting inundation of fear and hate that they, the mass media, have so lovingly bestowed upon us is going to make us sick, weak and submissive. Therefore, they send in the subliminal messages of profitable network advertisements—specifically, pharmaceutical advertisements—which have again, given us a false sense of control. They assure us that our situation is far from futile—there, there my friend, here is the answer—just ask your doctor if XYZ is right for you. However, if you don’t ask, it’s your own fault and I hope you’re happy!

In fact, one day in the middle of July 2007 between 6:45pm and 7 pm I recorded all of the advertisements during the NBC, CBS and ABC nightly news. These elevating stories included lead based paint in children’s toys (FEAR!), vague terrorist plots (FEAR!), the inaccuracy of mammography (FEAR!), an incurable and virulent strain of tuberculosis (FEAR!), as well as an addendum to the Ten Commandments by the Vatican (don't forget to pray), which reminds us not only that “thou shall not murder” (kill), but that “thou shall recite the rosary whilst in (formidable) traffic.” The latter is not so much fear as it is freaky, and clearly an indication that someone in programming needs to be fired for allowing such benign stories to slip through the fear laden cracks.

Inexplicably, I began to feel nauseous while I watched the news—I can’t explain it—just that my stomach burns into my throat, my head throbs, while my heart races and my legs…well, my legs feel all, I dunno—squirrelly. I sure wish I knew how to remedy this tummy ache of mine.

Luckily, sandwiched between this symptomatic trigger fest o fear were the following advertisements:

Preparation H (2 times), Lunesta (insomnia), Requip (RLS), Caduet (cholesterol), Gas X, Zetia (cholesterol), Advil PM (insomnia), Nexium (acid reflux), Listerine, Imodium, One-a-Day Prostate for men, Vesicare (bladder control), and Contar (diabetes)—did I mention this was only a 15-minute chunk of time? There were also two commercials for Hyundai, one for Chrysler, another for V8 (mysteriously, a preventative measure for our health and again, someone should be fired at Pusher Man Inc.) and finally—or shall I say ironically, Liquid Plumber (twice)—after all, with all that shitting, yakking, and pissing you should be using the “foaming pipe snake” to clean out the ol’ pipes of the house once in a while—you’re up pacing at night anyway, why not use this time wisely?

Overwhelmed with ailments via our neuroticism, thanks in part to our manipulative 24-hour news, we must remain isolated in our real reality from any physical interaction and/or involvement, organized protest and/or individual research, oblivious to our ignorance and analytically static in the biased rendition of their real reality. After all, we’re too overwhelmed with illness and fatigue to assert ourselves after a 12-hour workday.

Further, the corporation relies upon subliminal polarization to prevent the viewer from any proactive interaction with the news or for that matter, with each other. How can one organize when one cannot stand their neighbor? Compounding the spin (I know, at FOX the spin stops there), the viewer can only see/hear what they are shown/told and along with the power of a savvy producer and creative editor they can alter the context or "reality" of an actual event—the real reality—through a manipulative editing process. It is divisive, deliberate process and it works.

Again, akin to the abusive relationship, I would argue that as the abuser, the corporate executives isolate the abused from the truth and implement their own devices to foster a false sense of security in the depiction of the news—sure you should be afraid, but our hierarchy (government, executives etc.) has it under control—or, sure it’s a problem, but just keep working and everything will be okay. Therefore, we believe the fear, we worry about the solutions and we get sick—then, we find comfort in network advertisements and go further into debt trying to pay for those remedies. When one is sick, one should rest. Instead, one has to take on extra hours or positions to pay for the potions that maintain us as viable drones. We’re too damn busy and burnt to investigate any other alternatives.

Further, I would contend that the corporation in fact loathes the viewers they so depend upon and abuse, as they continue to exploit our devotion for their own profit and advantage. As I have argued, the corporation exploits our desire for communication and information, by feverishly shoveling frivolous news, copious fear and uncertainty down the throat of an already anxious society riddled with apprehension and diffidence. Again, a method is used to distract society from the more pressing issues of our time; issues with images so vivid that they cannot be spun or disputed—the real reality.

For example, 24-hour news fails to document or depict the caskets of the well over 4,000 servicemen and women killed in action arriving home from Iraq and Afghanistan. Although, this particular case of censorship was in fact a direct order from The White House to the press, wherein casket coverage was forbidden, while this deliberate deception is spattered red with manipulation and the trickle down effect from our President to the corporation is in all probability polluted.

So I ask. Despite that order, why doesn’t the layman organize and rebel by documenting and capturing the flag-shrouded caskets on a camera phone; by resorting to what Jesse Drew called”

“a form of technological ju-jitsu, whereby a smaller opponent uses the greater motion and weight of its opponent against itself to bring it down” (Drew, 186).

Because most of us are too sick, tired and hopeless to do so—not to mention, the drone-like whirr coming from the societal nest is deafening.

Yet, one could capture this somber reality of war on their camera phone and consequently post the footage on the Internet via MySpace, which is incidentally owned by News Corporation (NewsCorp), who ironically own FOX television and dozens of other media outlets; ultimately, these controversial images would be broadcast through the very device that the corporation has been forbidden to use in broadcasting such images. Instead, 24-hour news fixates and distracts us with the images of a big-breasted blonde who squandered her life away through the dysfunctional consumption of pharmaceutical drugs and money; eventually, dying from it. Or with the perils of a intellectually vacant heiress who is so self-absorbed and overflowing with ego that she cannot even hire a driver to chauffeur her drunken ass around Los Angeles.

The corporation knows that as a society we can identify with Anna Nicole Smith and Paris Hilton (and prefers us to), for our increasingly superfluous and materialistic society continues to raise generations of entitled young adults who, not yet burdened with the ever-present stomach ulcer, have a ferocious appetite for immediate gratification and gluttonous consumption, sans the effort.

These vices further serve as a catalyst for the continuous cycle of corporate abuse against a credulous society that depends upon this disingenuous depiction of the real reality, which the other reality successfully distracts us from.

It's classic good cop, bad cop. Society is its own worst enemy (bad cop) and network/24-hour cable television is seemingly their salvation (good cop). It's dysfunctional: the abused and the abuser, while there is no shelter for salvation.

Let me just say this: the bucktoothed mama of network television and 24-hour news didn’t raise no dummy.

jenji