Thursday, June 21, 2007
Wrestling with TV News
The two anchors of "World News Now" were absolutely giddy the other night when they were handed the story of Lauren Jones, the buxom, blond former swimsuit model and pro wrestler who is currently working as a news anchor at the CBS affiliate in Tyler, Texas. It was jocularity, jocularity for the ABC overnight anchors as they belittled and ridiculed the "experiment" in Tyler, which is basically a set-up for a TV reality show.
They could barely contain themselves about how ridiculous the whole premise was down in Texas, the most absurd since someone suggested that state's dimbulb governor run for president. Guffaw, guffaw.
Only problem is that the wrestlin' news anchor is only another example of what is basically wrong with TV news in the first place. And the two ABC anchors are more a part of the problem than the solution themselves.
Both were young -- or at least young-looking -- wholesomely good-looking, well-coiffed, and more glib than erudite. If you've ever seen "World News Now," you already know it buys right into the "happy talk" approach to presenting the news (especially "The Skinny" segment), mostly sugar and spice and very little substance, the very approach that has decimated TV news' credibility over the past few decades (we're not in the land of Edward R. Murrow and Walter Cronkite anymore, Toto). The two WNN anchors, with nary a journalism degree between them, as far as I can tell, looked as if they got to the anchor desk the same way Ms. Jones did, by being attractive and vacuously charming.
The female WNN anchor, in fact, was just as blond and almost as stunningly attractive as Ms. Jones.
I wonder if other TV anchors made as much fun of her and her male cohort when they first stumbled into their anchor chairs. Putting a ex-model with a degree in bikini waxes and choke-holds on the anchor desk is not that much more ridiculous than putting Ivy League Kens and Barbies there. So, be careful, WNN anchors, that image you are laughing at so heartily may just be one cast in a mirror at the funhouse you work in.
They could barely contain themselves about how ridiculous the whole premise was down in Texas, the most absurd since someone suggested that state's dimbulb governor run for president. Guffaw, guffaw.
Only problem is that the wrestlin' news anchor is only another example of what is basically wrong with TV news in the first place. And the two ABC anchors are more a part of the problem than the solution themselves.
Both were young -- or at least young-looking -- wholesomely good-looking, well-coiffed, and more glib than erudite. If you've ever seen "World News Now," you already know it buys right into the "happy talk" approach to presenting the news (especially "The Skinny" segment), mostly sugar and spice and very little substance, the very approach that has decimated TV news' credibility over the past few decades (we're not in the land of Edward R. Murrow and Walter Cronkite anymore, Toto). The two WNN anchors, with nary a journalism degree between them, as far as I can tell, looked as if they got to the anchor desk the same way Ms. Jones did, by being attractive and vacuously charming.
The female WNN anchor, in fact, was just as blond and almost as stunningly attractive as Ms. Jones.
I wonder if other TV anchors made as much fun of her and her male cohort when they first stumbled into their anchor chairs. Putting a ex-model with a degree in bikini waxes and choke-holds on the anchor desk is not that much more ridiculous than putting Ivy League Kens and Barbies there. So, be careful, WNN anchors, that image you are laughing at so heartily may just be one cast in a mirror at the funhouse you work in.
Monday, June 04, 2007
Where Have They Gone, Really?
I have a friend who plays this little game with old song titles. He picks a letter of the alphabet, and it is up to him and the rest of us to come up with classic song titles that begin with that letter. Not exactly an intellectual challenge, but a fun memory challenge (especially for those of us whose memories aren't what they used to be).
Last week, it was "W" -- which is fairly challenging as alphabet letters go. After we had gone through the most readily recollected ones -- "Will You Love Me Tomorrow," "Who'll Stop the Rain," "Who Put the Bomp," etc. -- I came up with what seemed another obvious one, "Where Have All the Flowers Gone?" Shockingly, my friend, who is at least thirty years younger than I, hesitated and then said, "I don't know that song."
What? The classic of all classic anti-war folk songs, sung by everyone from Pete Seeger and The Kingston Trio to Bruce Springsteen (I think)? The one that needs to be dragged out even more now that the Iraq 'n' Roil War is showing us that we never learn?
My friend now knows the song, but only through my off-key rendering of it. I guess it just shows that all things pass, not from generation TO generation, but at the close of each generation. (And, if you think that scares the hell out of me, you're right.)
"Gone to flowers every one" means a lot more to me every day closer to the euphemistically named "Gardens of Memory" that we used to call graveyards (where old songs go home and stay buried there, I guess).
Oh, when will they ever learn (again)?
Last week, it was "W" -- which is fairly challenging as alphabet letters go. After we had gone through the most readily recollected ones -- "Will You Love Me Tomorrow," "Who'll Stop the Rain," "Who Put the Bomp," etc. -- I came up with what seemed another obvious one, "Where Have All the Flowers Gone?" Shockingly, my friend, who is at least thirty years younger than I, hesitated and then said, "I don't know that song."
What? The classic of all classic anti-war folk songs, sung by everyone from Pete Seeger and The Kingston Trio to Bruce Springsteen (I think)? The one that needs to be dragged out even more now that the Iraq 'n' Roil War is showing us that we never learn?
My friend now knows the song, but only through my off-key rendering of it. I guess it just shows that all things pass, not from generation TO generation, but at the close of each generation. (And, if you think that scares the hell out of me, you're right.)
"Gone to flowers every one" means a lot more to me every day closer to the euphemistically named "Gardens of Memory" that we used to call graveyards (where old songs go home and stay buried there, I guess).
Oh, when will they ever learn (again)?
