Well, it finally happened. I hit the wall. For almost 30 years, I have gotten dressed while listening to the news. But not this week.
When I was in college, I would play records while doing the hair and the maquillage. Maybe a little Billy Joel or Phoebe Snow, maybe a little Boogie Oogie Oggie, depending on whether I was going to class or going out for a Saturday night. Then after Karl and I bought our first home, I’d listen to the radio because the record player was downstairs. (I suppose I should say turntable, but it was always a record player to me.)
But after we bought our second home where we now live, we were grown up enough to have a television set in our bedroom. And that’s when my weekday mornings started with the Today show, back when Jane Pauley and Bryant Gumbel could tell you everything you needed to know in less than an hour—maybe even 30 minutes.
Eventually I moved to cable news. The world where anything worth telling is worth repeating. Over and over and over again. The world where news is “breaking” every minute of every day.
But this week, I just couldn’t. It just wasn’t in me to keep a cable news vigil following the Las Vegas shootings. And I couldn’t spend time with Trump in Puerto Rico. I’d reached that saturation point where I felt like a sponge that can’t pick up one more drop of water. (Maybe someone will throw some paper towels at me now.)
Random mass murders and inappropriate (to say the least) behavior by Trump aren’t really news. They seem to be the cost of doing business as a citizen of the United States in 2017. Congress isn’t fixing anything. So why spend time on cable news when your Facebook feed is going to give you the highlights of today’s crazy episode of This is Us—the Reality Edition?
So I’m going to Facebook to find the snippets that I need to know about without having to watch whole installments of cable news programs.
Could I beg a favor of you? For every political post you make, please give me something warm and fuzzy. Or better yet, hot and fuzzy.
For example, if you post something along the lines of “How many more must die?, your next post should be one from the Playgirl archives—perhaps the one of George Maharis next to a horse. If you post anything about Trump, please follow that with a throwback picture of Matt Lauer at the beach. (Why do you think I watched the Today show for all those years?)
And, perhaps most importantly, if you share a video of Pat Robertson saying anything about anything, the next thing needs to be some seriously palate cleansing beefcake. Some of you have it going on enough to do a selfie beefcake yourself. (You know who you are.) You’ll get extra points if you pose next to your own horse.
It’s only fair—if we’re going to be accused by Robertson of causing every bad thing that happens in the world, we should be reminded of what we’re doing it for, don’t you think?
Besides, I’ll get back to watching cable news at some point. Something will pull me back. Indictments would do the trick. Particularly if Chris Cuomo is reporting about them. In a swimsuit.