More Complaints about Reality TV

I had an interesting first today. During my appointment with the doctor, for the first time in my life I heard the phrase “possibly cancer.”

Keep reading, mom. Don’t anyone go buy me a yellow bracelet just yet. I doubt I have cancer. But the doctor saw something that was odd enough that for liability reasons he wants to do some additional tests.

Still, hearing the word “cancer” from a doctor is not good times. It made me feel like the time in high school when my dad had to ask me if we needed to have a talk about what is appropriate to look at on the internet. When the doctor said it, I felt like I had been caught doing something wrong or at least embarrassing.

I immediately decided that I wouldn’t tell my wife about it, because she would worry more than is necessary. Without getting into too much detail, what the doctor found is completely fixable, cancer or not. I don’t want my wife to worry for a few reasons:

1.       I’m still young enough that I maintain my Superman complex. Nothing can really hurt me, because I am a strong young man, plus I have three kids, so I have “dad strength” as well. Untouchable.

2.       By the time I am old enough to really worry about cancer, science will have discovered a cure for cancer. Do you worry about polio? No? Well, a hundred years ago polio was much scarier than cancer is today.

3.       Most importantly, even if I do have some small form of cancer, I have the insurance, support system, and general healthiness to treat it and be fine.

The point is, I’ll be fine. I would never compare the nervousness I felt for a moment in the doctor’s office to any real challenge that most humans face in their lives. We would do well to settle down with the “look at me!” drama of our own lives and instead be grateful for how amazing everything is. We can do better.

Anyway, despite that long introduction, this post is not about me. This blog is about The Bachelor, American Idol, and all the other reality TV contests that fabricate or exaggerate dramatic sob stories to make their contestants seem interesting. These shows are destroying the sensibility of millions of Americans.

I understand that last sentence might seem like hyperbole, but let me provide a couple of examples from just the past week or so that prove my point (If you are wondering how I can be so hypocritical and still sleep at night, just remember that my wife likes the shows I am about to mention. Since I like her, I put up with the shows, too).

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with my life now.”

This was said by a tearful Desiree, a beautiful 26 year old woman who had just been dumped on TV by a guy who has been openly making out with at least 5 other women. Not only did the break up completely shock Desiree, it also apparently destroyed her life!

Look at that statement in bold above. Sean, the current “Bachelor,” not selecting her to be his future former TV romance partner, has ruined all the plans for her life. It is ludicrous for a gorgeous 26-year old woman who was on a TV show to feel this way. And yet, all across America, millions of women said exactly what my wife said while Des sobbed in the limo, “Awe, that’s too bad. I liked Des, she was so cute and normal.”

GOING ON A TV SHOW TO WIN A “WHO CAN MAKE A GUY LIKE THEM THE MOST” CONTEST IS NOT AND NEVER WILL BE NORMAL!

“I just don’t understand how they can just destroy a person’s dreams like that. I mean, this is my dream; I’ve worked so hard and made it so far. I deserve to be a star.”

One of the talentless losers kicked off American Idol last week gave us this beauty in her parting testimonial.  The narcissism evident in most of the contestants on this program borders on breathtaking. It used to be a fairly entertaining talent show. Now it’s simply a freak show of desperate weirdoes who will do anything for a mere taste of fame.

When did we get here? When did this insatiable need for fame eclipse the concept of adding value to the world and doing something that matters? Can you imagine what would happen if the same number of people that tried out for American Idol, The Voice, or X Factor put the same time, effort and passion into studying medicine or engineering?

Most people can sort of sing. But the ones who actually make it in the music industry can really sing. Wanting to be famous and loved by millions for doing as little as possible is an epidemic in this country. Where are the friends and parents to tell these delusional divas, “I love you, but you can’t sing.”? Just because someone can sort of hold a tune, does not mean they understand the part about music that moves people.

Let me provide an example within my example. You may have noticed the recent popularity on these shows of the Gotye song “Somebody that I Used to Know.” Everyone wants to sing it because it has that hypnotic beat and those big notes leading up to and in the chorus. Tempting for someone trying to show off their range, right?

But here’s the thing about that song: The phrasing is important because it is syncopated with that beat everyone loves. You have to know the words, and you can’t take a lot of liberties to throw in a few vocal runs or it ruins the pace.

Secondly, and I’m going to pick on the girls here, Somebody is NOT a sexy song. It is a duet that explores the lingering feelings for a past flame while trying to stay faithful in a current relationship. It is a confused couple trying to salvage a relationship while one of them is still hung up on a post break up relationship with a former girlfriend. It’s the George Costanza anthem.

If I see one more teenaged girl trying to sexify the song by awkwardly cat-walking across the stage with the sleeveless shoulder shrugs and the smoldering gaze I will cry genuine Native American tears. Listen to the effing words of the song and stop hiding your crippling insecurity by dressing like the stripper version of Stevie Nicks, ladies.

“I’m thinking about getting some plastic surgery today. We’ll see.”

This was said on Real Housewives of Who the Hell Cares?  I can’t provide any further information into this seemingly huge decision made as if she was buying laundry detergent because as soon as I heard that line I jumped out our second floor window.

I’ve pretty much rambled in this post, but I think my point is that life is amazing. We spend too much time buying into these “First World Problems” or Reality Show problems and we become soft and unbearable, unable to identify what really matters.   

So tonight I’ll go home and spend a little extra time with my daughters. If they want to play “Disney Dress Up” or “Mom and Honey” then I’m up for it. I’ll give them big hugs and remind them how much their dad loves them. But I won’t do it because of the doctor appointment this morning; I’ll do it because I don’t want them to end up on The Bachelor.  

Doug Reviews Art

I’m watching the Grammy’s right now. Earlier, the band called Fun won the award for “Best Song,” (the overplayed “We Are Young.”) Before that, they performed a new song where they got really into it as rain fell on them from above. They got totally soaked as they pranced around the stage in their hipster outfits. It was very geeky and cliché and lame. I like these guys.

To me, art is the thing you do after the bills are paid. There is no doubt in my mind the guys from Fun would do what they do regardless of the rich and famous and winning Grammy’s thing. Their music is obviously their attempt at sharing their interpretation of life. I dig it.

And then along comes Justin Timberlake, the white falsetto Godzilla. He storms onto the Grammy stage and we citizens of Earth do our best impression of terrified Japanese people fleeing the city. Justin Timberlake was put on the planet to entertain humans. All women freely confess their preferential love for him. I had a friend once tell me Justin Timberlake is the only human he wouldn’t trust his wife to be alone with for any amount of time, and he is dead on. If JT had a live show where all he did was fart into an empty Sprite can, my wife would max out our credit card with the hope that she would be selected from the crowd to go onstage and hold the can.

For us men it has to be more subtle, though.  What we can’t admit is that we all have a crush on him, too. Remember the Seinfeld episode where Elaine is dating Tony the “mimbo?” Well, Timberlake is Tony and the rest of us are just a bunch of starry-eyed Costanza’s, staring longingly at our man-crush and trying to copy his every move. Screw you, Timberlake, I just can’t stay mad at you.

By the time Maroon 5 and Alicia Keys got to the stage, I had to set fire to the piano in our home and smash my guitar against the burning ivories. Musicians are so amazing; It is a travesty for me to even own those instruments. It made me ashamed of everything I’ve ever done because there are people out there that get it more than I ever could, express it better than I could ever dream, and work at harder than I would ever be willing.

The Grammy’s should be our Reality TV. I am so tired of the time, attention, money and resources we all spend on the nightly “I desperately want to be famous” show. Catty women fighting each other for camera time and the possibility of showing up on the cover of US Weekly should disgust us, not be our favorite show.

(Sorry, I’m pausing right now from typing anything because the Black Keys are using their awesomeness to force me into watching them perform).

I’m back. Art is happening tonight. And the thing about real art is, it touches us and inspires us and helps us remember a million moments in our own lives that made a difference. Art is a shared experience privately enjoyed. Art is not the Real Housewives of Phase 3 at Del Boca Vista fighting over who has more shiny friends.

(Brilliant! Bruno Mars just brought Sting onstage to acknowledge the fact that his new song ‘Locked Out of Heaven” is an intentionally Sting sounding song. I love this song, by the way).

I guess we all have to pay the bills. I’m lucky; I love what I do to make money. Others don’t, but I firmly believe they can. You may find yourself among the 99% of the population who does not do what they love all day every day for money. If you can’t do what you love, though, you can certainly love what you do. You can find passion and nobility in your current job.

But loving what we do for work isn’t art.  

Art is much more important than that. Successful artistic expression is not measured by the zeros in your bank account, the number of US Weekly covers you’ve made, or the hordes of screaming fans. Art is measured by demonstrations of honesty and the truth as you see it. Art is what you do after the bills are paid. And the truth is…my only artistic expression lately is in the sexy ways I pose on the couch for my wife as we watch our shows.

George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Martin Luther King, the Beastie Boys. They all fought bravely for my right to party. And I’m just sitting here.

What should I do?

Forgiveness: Part II

There are people in your life who’ve come and gone. They let you down and hurt your pride.

Better put it all behind you; life goes on. You keep carrying that anger, it’ll eat you inside.

I’ve been trying to get down to the heart of the matter, but my will gets weak.

And my thoughts seem to scatter, but I think it’s about forgiveness.

Forgiveness, even if…even if you don’t love me anymore.

-Don Henley, Heart ofthe Matter

In my last post, I wrote about our potential for forgiveness. I explained a method I read about that included—you know what? I’m not going to rehash it. If you want to know about how the process works, scroll your lazy fingers down three inches and you can read my previous post.

So I wrote the first letter and addressed it to the person I’ve been convinced owed me some major apologies. I unleashed some emotions I’ve held in and tried to pretend didn’t exist. I went so nuts, I decided against my original plan to post the letter here.

I waited two days. Then I set up a throwaway email account in this person’s name (stalker) and wrote a letter of apology back to myself. I thought I would write all the things this person owes me, complete with him down on figurative knee, begging for my forgiveness. But it didn’t happen that way.

The letter started out pretty strong, and I created a pretty douchey persona for this guy. But after about four sentences I ran out of ways to self-deprecate the dude. What happened next surprised me. I started thinking from this his point of view, and it got harder and harder for me to keep justifying all the apologies. I started to empathize with my nemesis and understand where he was coming from. Horrible!

I put an electronic signature for this person at the bottom of the email and actually emailed it to my email address. Yeah, I did that. Who sounds like the psychopath now?

I waited two more days, and pulled up the email to read it. Even though I knew I wrote it, even though I knew it was all a hoax, and even though it was totally written in my style…I was fooled. It made me more emotional than I anticipated. And here’s the Oprah Winfrey moment: my animosity was fading. I tried to make the anger and hate come, but they wouldn’t.

Maybe that’s what life is about. Too often we get caught up in spending our lives worrying about what we should not do, and spend more of our time focusing on what we can become. Every day should be spent doing quadruple backflips and shouting for joy that the sun didn’t explode and we have just the right mix of oxygen and nitrogen in Earth's atmosphere. Each person is just as fleeting and insignificant as I am, and therefore, just as valuable, fragile and worthwhile.

How can I leave any room in my life for something as useless as enmity toward others? Doesn’t it seem accurate that this has been weighing much heavier on me than it ever did on my so-called offender? He doesn’t deserve my hostility, and I don’t need those feelings cluttering up my good times. 

The trick worked, I forgave the person whose actions have been eating away at my inside's for years. And yet now I wonder, who really needs that forgiveness, me or him? 

Some people believe we are here to be more like God. Some believe we are on an eternal journey to achieve perfect balance and harmony with the universe. Others simply believe we should do our best to develop perfect humanity during this brief life before we fade to stardust.

Alexander Pope said forgiveness is divine. I don’t know, but I think Henley said it even better. The ability to forgive even after we’ve all moved on and it doesn’t matter and the feelings are gone. Forgiveness, even if you don’t love me anymore. Now that is divine.