An element of snobbishness would have you believe that you, the current affairs literate, well read and educated, are better than the peroxide addled gigglers who banter on about who stands the greater chance of winning the most recent reality television sedative. You discuss politics and economics, digest sound bites and interviews from late night news bulletins, ruminate on the pre-packaged science (referenceless of course) that titillates. They prattle on about haircuts, sex scandals and how X was like so mean to that other one, Y, who's really cute but not their favourite. You're better, right?
Deluded little creature under rock, do you enjoy the puppet show? Distracted by gossip you miss the point entirely; they're satisfied at least with a job well done. No thought, repeat verbatim opinion masquerading as information, no critical analysis. It's easier that way, scandal after scandal, no real change required just another headline to replace the last, the media wheels keep churning and the world keeps spinning while you squabble. Outraged, you'll vent foamy mouthed or perhaps grinning with ironic cynicism (you're too cool right? Love the hair) as the strings are pulled and worlds tumble out effortless.
Switched off, I've made my vote and people call me crazy? Too bad that wall wasn't really bubbling and growing eyes, blinking the secrets of reality to me in Melusian Morse Code. I could really use a holiday.
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