Sunday, June 9, 2013

Jerry, Jerry, Jerry - you have got to be kidding me

I spent about 90 minutes in the Chair of Doom the other day where the dentist used all sorts of power tools on my pearly whites.
Right on cue, when he had a drill, suction thingy, several fingers and that stupid rubber dam installed he decided it was the perfect time for some small talk.
Other than a 'yes' or 'no' answer (which typically come out as 'oog' and 'ug'), it is pretty hard to carry on a conversation. I am not sure why dentists do that, but I think it is a little game they like to play to keep their day interesting and they compare notes at quitting time about all the fun they had trying to make someone talk who has enough hardware in their mouth to build a Smart Car.
While laying back on that sterile, plastic recliner every dentist in North America has, I had plenty of time to think about things.
As I always do when I am in The Chair, I thought, “Wow, does this ever suck.” Which was immediately followed by the thought, “Wow, does this ever suck.”
The third thought was, well, you get the idea. Eventually I tired of thinking how much being in The Chair sucked and moved on to other things, like paying attention to the TV the dentist has in the ceiling of the little room where The Chair and associated power tools are located.
This is a great idea because instead of thinking how much it sucks to be trapped in The Chair on a beautiful sunny day while having a high-speed drill rattling your brain, you can reach distraction by watching some daytime TV.
It only took a few minutes for me to realize just how trashy some daytime TV is (compared to evening and nighttime TV, which is 'classy' from start to finish.)
I am convinced Jerry Springer on his own is enough to damn humanity to judgement, and I reached that conclusion after five minutes.
The episode was about some guy who slept with a stripper and wanted to tell his wife. His wife wanted to tell him she slept with his cousin who was married to her best friend.
Yikes, I needed a score card to keep track of who was doing what.
Every few seconds a fight would break out and the audience would stand up and chant “Jerry, Jerry, Jerry...”
Springer has been on TV for many years, so obviously some people eat this trash up. Personally, I don't get it.
I really don't care if Jim-Bob slept with Suzie-May who is not only his cousin, but his wife's-friend's-aunt's-sister's best friend, or something like that.
But inspite of feeling like I needed a shower, I kept watching. At one point, the dental assistant looked to see what I was viewing and I felt embarrassed at my choice of entertainment.
It is like a car wreck, brought to you daily from some seedy trailer park filled with inebriated and morally challenged hillbillies who have nothing better to do than jump from bed to bed.
Springer had several groups of people who, for some reason, feel it is necessary to tell millions of viewers just how trashy they are.
For me, that is the most baffling part of the whole situation: their willingness to air their dirty laundry in front of the TV cameras.
The more I watched, the more of an appreciation I gained for my wife. We have been married for 25 years this summer and she has proven to be a wonderful partner and terrific mom.
As I watched these 'ladies' admit to actions akin to porno movies, I felt even more blessed to be married to the Missus.
By the time Jerry was done lowering the IQ points of millions of people, the dentist was done drilling holes in my teeth and I was done with Mr. Springer.
I will likely never return to the fiesta of TV trash, but at least I found something more distasteful than having to spend time in the Chair of Doom.

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