#675 Musings Beyond the Bunker (Thursday June 1)
Good morning,
A few weeks ago, Jerry Springer died. At first, I paused a moment and reflected on the passing of this earlier practitioner of “I have no shame” entertainment. After all, the famous brawls between family members, and real or hyped-up fistfights between people who have been (or perceived to have been) wronged by the other, were precursors to the staged “reality television” world of Survivors, Kardashians, and Gladiators we now inhabit.
But I began thinking of the historical context of Mr. Springer and came to a realization—he is part of the long line of the descent of entertainment that parallels the decline in our collective culture, inquisitiveness, and desire to achieve a better version of ourselves. Television began with the promise of culture, news, and education—a medium for creativity and wit—and has ended up as low-brow entertainment without any concept of shame.
It is hard to believe that when television came into general availability in the 1950s, it was perceived as an educational tool. Information and “higher art” were the watchword. It was viewed as a medium of enhancing our civic lives and discussions. The New York Philharmonic, Broadway plays, travelogues, science classes and other were the primary product. Great dramas were presented regularly, while great comedic writers, dramatists, and political satirists were given a platform. It was a place where professors and intellectuals could speak to broad swaths of society about important topics. It was a place where our leaders could inform and rally the people behind critical national objectives. It was a place where great symphony, theatre, and art could make it into the living rooms of everyone.
Eventually, TV became the place of storytelling—initially in the form of theatre being brought into the homes. Then movies were reshown on TV. And drama was a primary staple. Comedians who might only be seen in Las Vegas, the Catskills or the Copacabana could now be broadcast into people’s homes. This led, eventually, to situational comedies—creating characters and backstories that would allow milking those characters by placing them in different situations each week.
But people wanted to see themselves in characters. Sure, some sitcom characters filled the bill, but why not bring the viewer into the show? Enter “What’s My Line,” “To Tell the Truth” and game shows of various levels of sophistication and lack thereof. And what did we learn? For every Ken Jennings who wins at Jeopardy! Through the display of knowledge, people really preferred game shows that showed people to be foolish or willing to do ridiculous things to win the game (see, e.g., Road Trip, American Gladiators, and their ilk). Then add people airing their most personal grievances about failed friendships, business failings, failed marriages and failed parenthood, worked into a feverish pitch. Springer’s show riled people up until there were physical altercations. There were even professional “bar fight enders” on the staff, prying angry people off of each other. Is the common denominator that we seemed entertained by the prospect of seeing others humiliated and debased? Does this fuel a basic human need to see others shamed, in part to cover for our own sense of shame and lack of fulfillment?
But eventually, even that wasn’t enough. “The people” needed to see others like themselves dealing with the most prosaic of complaints, issues and interactions. The more salacious, the better. So “reality” TV became a thing. But it was not enough to look at “real” reality (is there even such a thing when someone else is watching?). Reality must be enhanced and exploded into hyper-reality of unreal people who are not merely self-interested, but downright duplicitous, manipulative, and fundamentally evil. Yet they are living in manufactured “real world” situations like courtship, that debase that very real and emotionally meaningful relationship.
As we think about what performative television of this type has become, how are the producers of this fare merely providing for us a vehicle whereby they can be bullies and, by extension, we are the bullies. They, and we, are preying upon insecurity, personal tragedy, and failed ventures. How is this not legalized, accepted bullying? And, of course, it reinforces the most cynical views of humankind and furthers the belief that many hold that everyone is out to get everyone else.
What began as a noble enterprise based in education, culture, the arts, and political awareness descended over time to a comic, over-blown and dangerous reflection of what society had become. Out of all the overflow of content now showing up on multiple platforms, quality takes the back seat. It’s out there, but increasingly harder to find.
AND THEN, OF COURSE, THERE WAS THE CNN TOWN HALL
It dawned on me during the travesty that was the Trump on the CNN-sponsored Republican Town Hall a few weeks ago…this was the apotheosis of Jerry Springer television. Ignoring questions, dissembling, insults to the moderator, lie after lie and no substance at all. But man, it was entertainment.
AMONG THE STRANGEST PLAYERS EVER
There is a saying uttered by baseball players throughout the history of the game—“play me or trade me.” Players don’t want to sit on the bench as utility reserves for their careers. They want to play the game, and if there is a team that will give them a chance to be a starter, they would prefer to be traded. But there is always the exception—like Chico Ruiz. Chico was a promising young star, who hit two homers in his rookie season (and never hit another one after that). But that’s not his most amusing distinction.
Randy Boggan wrote in, reminding me of the story that Chico was so accustomed to sitting on the bench that he brought his own cushion to the game—and he had a thicker one for double-headers.
His reputation as a perennial bench-sitter was famous in the late-60s with the Reds. So much so that fans bought him a fan for him to keep cool while sitting in the dugout, which he regularly put to good use.
Then there’s the story of when the regular Reds shortstop was injured and Ruis was called in. He had to play every day for two weeks. He went in to the manager and demanded, “bench me or trade me.”
Only in baseball does someone meet characters like Chico. To add insult to injury, Chico played his last two seasons with the then-California Angels. They belonged together…
Have a great day,
Glenn
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