Where Did You Get That Idea?
When you hear the latest news do you wonder how in the world some of those events originated? Perhaps there are clues.
As a nation, we entrust weather forecasting to an uneducated groundhog. Saint Patty's day is highlighted by the color green and unrelenting pinches. Delicious dark chocolates inside a heart await a lover. We place faith in a four-legged furry character that has long, floppy ears, a white cotton tail, carries a basket full of colored eggs, and walks upright.
We enthusiastically and openly recognize the tiny female who sports translucent wings and carries a bag full of teeth as she hides money under pillows. We consider her neither strange nor a stranger, although she is less welcome after we reach teen age which is likely true because her gifts do not allow for inflation and totally unwelcome after age twenty-five. Every April we encourage hoaxes on the unsuspecting then label them fools when logic defies the notion there are more fools on one day of the year than on any other day.
Given that backdrop we should not be surprised about current news events.
For instance, Martha Stewart is UP to something. (Wonder if George Washington would have been treated so harshly as was Martha just for telling a bitty fib). Her friend, Charles Simonyi, paid $25 million dollars to explore outer limits. You read it right. Twenty-five biggy, biggy, BIGGY sized dollars, which equal a finite number of pennies saved on a rain day. Pray for rain. In true Martha Living style she gave him her Midas touch and sent along brown bag gourmet meals. Only Martha. If Christopher Reeve's Superman duds had been auctioned off a couple days earlier, Charlie could have done his spacing in real style for a mere $115,000, saved a bundle, and dashed home for lunch.
Get this. A yet to be identified person posted an April 1st invitation on the World Wide Web and encouraged readers to drop by a vacant house and help themselves to everything that remained. They did. Light fixtures, hot water heater, kitchen sink. The owner discovered the rather empty aftermath, was not amused, and now insists on having the last laugh (prosecution of former tenant who had been evicted) regardless that the owner will permanently display an April Fool label on his forehead.
And how 'bout that Imus? Imus was just being Imus when he made statements which have been interpreted as racist. Over the past thirty or so years Imus' controversial public broadcasting self-script hasn't changed. His looks haven't changed. His facial expressions are basically the same. His unkept appearing hair unfortunately looks about the same and frankly, it is doubtful that he has even bought a new cowboy hat.
So, what the heck happened? Perhaps Imus didn't evolve along with society and got out of sync with it. The public now has a front row seat for a lesson in aging without evolution. While the majority of our society learned to blend color and gender with equality, Imus coveted his outdated rigid perceptions.
On Monday, Imus squirmed for hours while he mumbled what he branded as an apology. He repeatedly told his audience, if he had one left, that he is a good man who had made a bad mistake by making a comment which had been misinterpreted. That's an apology?
Imus urged that he had only been jesting when he made reference to the Rutgers women basketball team. To thousands of his loyal male and female listeners of differing skin colors he broadcast, "That's some rough girls from Rutgers. Man, they got tattoos and--. That's some nappy-headed hos there. I'm gonna tell you that now, man, that's some--woo."
Ouch. Poor taste at a minimum but punishing Imus will not change him or the offensive remarks. His words ring on. Sadly, Imus hasn't figured out why his statements are unacceptable and an apology cannot happen unless and until the apologizer gets it in the first place.
The Reverend Al Sharpton jumped on the How Dare You, Imus! band wagon. The Reverend Jesse Jackson is, cling-clang, riding shotgun. They have called down the fires of media heaven to scorch and fire Imus. Here, here, Reverends. What happened to compassion for those suffering the ills from lack of insight?
Whatever will be will be as Doris would say, but in the meantime there will be no Imus In The Morning, or evening for that matter, for two whole weeks.
Roasted stuffed quail anyone?
© Coninc., TheDownsideUp.Com 2006
As a nation, we entrust weather forecasting to an uneducated groundhog. Saint Patty's day is highlighted by the color green and unrelenting pinches. Delicious dark chocolates inside a heart await a lover. We place faith in a four-legged furry character that has long, floppy ears, a white cotton tail, carries a basket full of colored eggs, and walks upright.
We enthusiastically and openly recognize the tiny female who sports translucent wings and carries a bag full of teeth as she hides money under pillows. We consider her neither strange nor a stranger, although she is less welcome after we reach teen age which is likely true because her gifts do not allow for inflation and totally unwelcome after age twenty-five. Every April we encourage hoaxes on the unsuspecting then label them fools when logic defies the notion there are more fools on one day of the year than on any other day.
Given that backdrop we should not be surprised about current news events.
For instance, Martha Stewart is UP to something. (Wonder if George Washington would have been treated so harshly as was Martha just for telling a bitty fib). Her friend, Charles Simonyi, paid $25 million dollars to explore outer limits. You read it right. Twenty-five biggy, biggy, BIGGY sized dollars, which equal a finite number of pennies saved on a rain day. Pray for rain. In true Martha Living style she gave him her Midas touch and sent along brown bag gourmet meals. Only Martha. If Christopher Reeve's Superman duds had been auctioned off a couple days earlier, Charlie could have done his spacing in real style for a mere $115,000, saved a bundle, and dashed home for lunch.
Get this. A yet to be identified person posted an April 1st invitation on the World Wide Web and encouraged readers to drop by a vacant house and help themselves to everything that remained. They did. Light fixtures, hot water heater, kitchen sink. The owner discovered the rather empty aftermath, was not amused, and now insists on having the last laugh (prosecution of former tenant who had been evicted) regardless that the owner will permanently display an April Fool label on his forehead.
And how 'bout that Imus? Imus was just being Imus when he made statements which have been interpreted as racist. Over the past thirty or so years Imus' controversial public broadcasting self-script hasn't changed. His looks haven't changed. His facial expressions are basically the same. His unkept appearing hair unfortunately looks about the same and frankly, it is doubtful that he has even bought a new cowboy hat.
So, what the heck happened? Perhaps Imus didn't evolve along with society and got out of sync with it. The public now has a front row seat for a lesson in aging without evolution. While the majority of our society learned to blend color and gender with equality, Imus coveted his outdated rigid perceptions.
On Monday, Imus squirmed for hours while he mumbled what he branded as an apology. He repeatedly told his audience, if he had one left, that he is a good man who had made a bad mistake by making a comment which had been misinterpreted. That's an apology?
Imus urged that he had only been jesting when he made reference to the Rutgers women basketball team. To thousands of his loyal male and female listeners of differing skin colors he broadcast, "That's some rough girls from Rutgers. Man, they got tattoos and--. That's some nappy-headed hos there. I'm gonna tell you that now, man, that's some--woo."
Ouch. Poor taste at a minimum but punishing Imus will not change him or the offensive remarks. His words ring on. Sadly, Imus hasn't figured out why his statements are unacceptable and an apology cannot happen unless and until the apologizer gets it in the first place.
The Reverend Al Sharpton jumped on the How Dare You, Imus! band wagon. The Reverend Jesse Jackson is, cling-clang, riding shotgun. They have called down the fires of media heaven to scorch and fire Imus. Here, here, Reverends. What happened to compassion for those suffering the ills from lack of insight?
Whatever will be will be as Doris would say, but in the meantime there will be no Imus In The Morning, or evening for that matter, for two whole weeks.
Roasted stuffed quail anyone?
© Coninc., TheDownsideUp.Com 2006
Labels: EglPress
posted by KKHC | 3:41 PM
