57 Channels and Nothin’ On

I stopped watching television about two years ago, and I have to say, I haven’t missed it. There are a few shows I’ve caught on DVD, so I’m not completely out of the loop, but I’m not one to anxiously await the finale of American Idol or the season premiere of Lost. I just don’t care.

So you can imagine how thrilled I was when we moved into our new office building, and installed a 36” flat-screen in the break room. Now I get to hear Bob Barker, Judge Judy, and about 14 million car commercials drifting down the hallway. Bliss.

Even better, when I’m trying to eat lunch in peace, someone will regularly come in and say “Let’s see what’s happening in the world.” They then proceed to grab the remote, and unleash the steaming pile of broadcast dreck that is the local news show.

There’s got to be some manual that every local news station follows, because they’re all exactly alike. Problem is, it’s a bad manual, because they’re all execrable.

The futuristic station logo fades in, framing some montage shots of “Your! Action! News! Team!” racing around downtown with serious looks on their faces. These shots are usually tilted, and invariably show the news van zipping by, ostensibly to cover some Thing that’s Happening Now! Impressive-voiced Announcer Guy introduces the crew as their pictures appear. Even those images are all the same. You could turn on the local news in some town you’ve never been in before, and just by looking at the poses and faces of the team, know who holds what position. Dark suit and tie/arms crossed/penetrating gaze/avuncular smile? Anchor. Pastel blouse/holding a pen/slightly lost look/warm smile? Co-anchor/eye candy. Neutral suit and no tie/intense delivery? Weatherman. Too small suit jacket/bad haircut/perpetually-surprised look? Sports. And the whole hackneyed presentation is underscored by the same gripping-yet-upbeat music, sounding suspiciously like the “Try Me!” preset on some of the nicer Casio keyboards.

One of my biggest complaints about these shows is that they take themselves way too seriously. They know that except for the odd four-alarm fire downtown, or if they’re really lucky, a serial killer taking up residence in their coverage area, most of what they report on doesn’t matter. It’s boring, and changes nothing. They make up for this by imparting the same degree of gravitas to every story.

Have you ever noticed that everything they mention is an “ordeal?”

Traffic jam on the local thoroughfare? It’s an ordeal for the commuters.
Someone’s suing City Hall? It’s an ordeal for the Assemblymen.
New zoning laws? It’s an ordeal for the local developers.
Plagues of locusts and rivers turning to blood? It’s an ordeal for the local fish hatcheries.

Maybe you missed that day in Journalism 101, but when you use the same word to describe everything, it loses impact. Get a fucking thesaurus.

Another suggestion: don’t tease the viewers. Don’t put off the big story until the end, and make us sit through 25 minutes of filler. “Today, the President announced a new budget initiative that will dramatically affect your paycheck starting next week. But first, is your goldfish psychic? We’ll hear from a local woman that says she knows the answer.”

The answer’s “no,” you imbecile. All sane people know that the answer is “no.” The woman is obviously off her meds, and you should be forced to share in her course of psychotropics just for encouraging her.

Something else: provide context where needed, and don’t manufacture local links to national stories. If there’s a riot going on in Cheyenne, Wyoming, we don’t need the opinion of some local shitkicker whose third cousin knew a guy in prison that was an extra in the background of Close Encounters of the Third Kind. That kind of context is pointless. The bitch of it is, I know that you know it’s pointless. Why do you do it? If your professional pride has fallen that low, just eat a bullet during your time slot. It’d be a hell of a lot more entertaining.

A good example of relevant context is during your weather segment. Show us what’s happening within the scope of your radar, then pull back to the national map so we can see how it all fits together. I hate seeing that miniscule sliver of light green over my ZIP code on your screen (“Just a little drizzle, folks.”), then going online to find that it’s the advance scout for several dozen F6 tornadoes, and that everything west of the Rockies no longer appears on the map. Conversely, don’t show me all the intimidating reds and oranges of the supercell thunderstorm currently pounding us without also showing how it’s moving at 90 miles per hour, and will be in the neighboring county before your weather guy has finished hyperventilating about emergency rations and batteries for the flashlight.

I’ve marked a scary trend, too. The broadcasts keep multiplying. Turn on the 6 AM news, and you’ll see ads for their 7 o’clock show. At 7, they give you snippets of their noon program. At lunch, they’ll inform you what stories their 5 o’clock crew will report on. When 5 rolls around, you’re told that the exact same stories will be repeated at 6. And at 6 o’clock, you’ll get hints about their day’s wrap-up at 11. Good lord, people. I don’t listen to my wife that much, and I love her (hi, honey!). I know news programs are the cheapest to produce, but come on! Even with the fact that you’re on my screen six hours each day, by the time you’ve noticed a potential news item, have sent the interns ferreting out some facts, shot some film, written some pithy comments, and sat your piles of clothing in front of the TelePrompTer, I’ve gone online and gotten the whole story, the background, the opinions of a multitude of informed people about the ramifications, as well as commentary from passers-by. You are no longer relevant, and your multiple appearances throughout the day don’t change that. Have the balls to announce:

“Instead of repeating ourselves ad nauseum all day, we’ll tell you in the morning if anything noteworthy happened while you were asleep, we’ll touch base at noon for a few minutes just to catch you up on some headlines, and then we’ll leave it to the professionals until 11, when we’ll give you an overview of the day’s events, followed by the weather forecast and a few ball scores. Otherwise, feel free to channel surf.”

I actually kind of feel sorry for these would-be Woodwards. I’d like to think that they had higher aspirations than being a three neighborhood celebrity making personal appearances at Church socials, Chamber of Commerce meetings, and sad parades, their rictus grins troweled on each evening like the pancake makeup that hides the broken veins and mottled skin from the hothouse klieg lights in the studio, the way the nice suits and power ties try to hide the broken soul and mottled morals, the all-too-human failings and compromises greedily seized upon and exploited by the geometrically-perfect…unblinking…unforgiving lens.

Then I remember how much they annoy me, and I feel compelled to ridicule them.