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The Hogs of Entropy 0043
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| | Hogs of Entropy Text Files Present... | |
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| | "The Infomercial Superhighway" | |
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| | "Have You Called Your Psychic friend today?" | |
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| | By: Chal e. mac | |
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Is it just me or have you noticed that TV is a fuckin' cesspool of waste
lately? I mean, I'll admit that I don't keep normal hours...just so we have
that straight from the start. So my TV habits are not what's considered
normal either. Most of my TV hours are spent after prime time. I don't make
it a point to stay home during the week to make sure I catch the new
installment of "Really Good-Looking Kids Who Are Incredibly Rich" or
whatever the new prime-time soap from Aaron Spelling is. Speaking of Aaron
Spelling, is this guy single-handedly responsible for the decline of western
civilization or what? From _Charlie's Angels_ to _Dynasty_ to _BH90120_ to
_Models, Inc._ I mean, stop the guy already before he creates another
incredibly insipid TV show! He probably lays awake at night unable to sleep
because he didn't think of Baywatch first!
(Quick aside here. As I'm typing this I'm listening to that there
Nirvana Nevermind CD and I'm telling you that "Breed" is fuckin'
amazing if you turn that notcher up to the full '10' and let your
ears bleed. Free music review there folks. Another public service
from Chal e. Mac. My hearing is perfect.)
But back to what's really pissing me off :) Lately as I chase through the
channels in the wee hours I'm increasingly being assaulted by these 30
minute infomercial that do little more than insult my intelligence and
raise my blood pressure. Every other channel has this insidious breed of
program on after say 1AM. I mean, is this the ultimate incestuous act
between stations and advertisers? Isn't it enough that your average 30
minute TV show has about 10 minutes of commercials? Do they have to let these
people monopolize a whole block of TV time? Christ, I'd rather have a test
pattern on my set than this shit. At least I could correct my color balance
or something.
It's not just one show either. They've proliferated, bred like so many
tribbles (Star Trek reference, obligatory when discussing TV and way too
keEeEewl too). Right now as I surf the channels I'm assaulted by a really
loud, obnoxious, pony-tailed guy named Tony Little who has got to be
snorting some really industrial strength coke the way he's screaming and
running all around the studio, all the while hawking some weird kind of
device called the Ab Isolator. The whole premise behind the Ab Isolator is
that it will help you do new and improved sit ups. Nevermind for a minute
that there's nothing wrong with old, time tested version of the sit up. As
far as I know they're still effective and don't need any "improving". But
Tony has developed this little plastic thing that straps onto your feet and
wraps around your knees and supposedly helps you do better sit ups. Tony also
tells you that you don't need to do sit ups ALL THE WAY, so that your elbows
touch your knees, no, all you have to do is raise your back off the floor
like 2 inches and you're receiving the maximum benefit of this exercise. My
question to Tony: If I only have to raise my back a few inches off the ground
why the hell do I need this piece of shit around my feet? And a message to
all the overweight fucks out there thinking of buying one of Tony's
overpriced, poorly-constructed, imported from overseas devices: It's not that
you can't do situps properly, PUT DOWN THE FUCKIN' DONUTS! Ohhhhh.... That
was bad.
I change the channel but now I'm confronted by some extremely ugly
looking, 70ish year old woman, wearing clothes made for girls in their 20s,
wearing way too much make up, extolling me that all my questions will be
answered if I just join her psychic circle. She has celebrities on her show
to tell how their lives all changed (for the better of course) after they
joined her psychic circle, implying I guess that if you join her psychic
circle you'll get all the day time soap opera guest shots that you can
handle. Incredibly, this creature that looks like she's right out of a B
grade horror movie is none other than Jackie Stallone, Sylvester's mom.
Here's one question that maybe Jackie's psychic circle can help me with: Why
doesn't your incredibly mega-rich son just up your monthly allowance a few
thousand dollars so that you won't have to embarrass yourself on TV by
looking like an incredibly ugly, incredibly old, incredibly cheap whore,
promising more than she could ever possibly deliver?
The next offering is from something called the Psychic Friends Network.
You've probably seen their "program" more than once as they're one of the
oldest psychic hotlines. They have the multi-talented Dionne Warwick as
their celebrity spokesperson. Which means either that A) Dionne is so
stupid that she really believes that psychics can get impressions from you
over the telephone or B) that her career is in such shambles that she's
willing to hawk anything for money. My guess is B. They say that they have
YOUR psychic friend just waiting for you to call so that he/she can answer
all those important questions that are presumably keeping you from falling
asleep, which explains why you are still watching the boob tube at this
ungodly hour. Their new "program" informs you that they now only have
"Master" psychics waiting eagerly by the phone for your call. I have no idea
what a "Master" psychic is, or what makes them different from just a plain
old regular psychic, but my guess is they (the psychics, that is) have
probably unionized, like plumbers. So that now there are probably apprentice
psychics out there somewhere, honing their psychic skills, hoping that they
have what it takes to someday become "Master" psychics.I would also guess
that "Master" psychics charge more too. I mean, what's the use of taking the
time to become certified as a "Master" psychic if you can't charge more? I
would also believe that the Psychic Friends network is geared toward the
lonely people out there among us who have valid credit cards and don't get
into phone sex, or who have no access to IRC :) I have one question for
Dionne and my "Master" psychic friend: If you're a "Master" psychic, and
you're my friend, why don't you just call me with the answer to my
question? Which, by the way, is: What terminal emulation will allow me to get
more than garbage on my screen when I establish a connection to the Phila.
Parking Authority computers? Because that's what's keeping me awake at this
ungodly hour :)
I grab the remote and change the channel quickly, before the urge to call
the PFN completely takes over. The next channel has a man who's toupee is
sooo bad it needs a chinstrap. I mean, this rug is absolutely horrible. This
guy's name is Marshall Sylver (yeah right that's his real name) and his act
seems to consist primarily of sophomoric magic tricks. He "hypnotizes" his
volunteers and tells you that you can duplicate the thoughts of those people
who are successful in what you want to do. He demonstrates this by
hypnotizing a volunteer and waving a lighter under her hand without her
pulling her hand away. Haven't we all done this at one time or another during
our puberty days? The lighter is waved so quickly under her hand that there's
no way she's even feeling that flame. His next volunteer learns the always
handy art of fire-eating. I can't tell you haw many times I've gotten out of
a jam by utilizing my fire-eating talents. His whole "program" works under
the hypothesis that you can self-hypnotize and be able to give yourself
suggestions while in this state that will help you overcome certain habits
in your life, like smoking. He comes off like some kind of K-mart version of
David Copperfield performing these bargain basement magic tricks while
wearing a pair of Wayfairer sunglasses and having his white shirt unbuttoned
to his navel. Of course, he leaves out the wind machines, we wouldn't that
dead animal on his head to blow off, would we?
Laughing hysterically at the thought that some idiot out there is actually
going to spend american money for a program from anybody who goes on TV with
a toupee that bad I pick up the remote and change the channel. This time
I'm confronted with an extremely effeminate cowboy hairdresser named Jose
Eber. Jose wears a cowboy hat and is wearing such an obvious wig that he
never takes his hat off. Jose is pushing his latest creation, something
called Secret Hair. Secret Hair is nothing more than hair extensions glued
to combs. Jose seems to think that this is some kind of revolutionary new
concept in hair design. He prances around the stage effecting his lisp and
saying "oh yes!" and "it's Secret Hair" over and over to his assistant, a
never-been soap opera actress named Tracy Bregman Reicht. Tracy has managed
to pour herself into a skirt that is so tight that it looks as if she's
threatening to explode at the seems. Which, now that I think of it,
would definitely be more entertaining than this infomercial. My question:
Jose sprung for a half hour of TV time , couldn't he have bought a wardrobe
for his assistant that was at least her size?
I grab the remote and give it one last try. I find Dick Cavett sitting in
a chair talking earnestly to me. I think, great, Dick Cavett, this has got
to be some intellectual kind of interview show, maybe he'll have an
interesting guest. Then what dick is saying sinks in. He's plugging a
"system" by someone named Harry Lorraine, who by the way, Dick says is world
famous. This system is called Memory Power and is promised to give you
"better than a photographic memory". Well, how the hell can you have better
than a photographic memory? Anyway, they show you clips of Harry on every
talk show there ever was doing his name remembering tricks, and show you the
stack of books that Harry wrote, which must not have sold anything because if
they did I'm sure that they would have stressed that point too. Harry won't
give you any insight into his Memory Power program, or how it works, or why
it's "better than a photographic memory", UNLESS you call the operator and
give them your plastic digits and, of course, agree to buy the program.
Doesn't that strike anybody but me as being strange. they want you to buy
this "system" but they won't tell you anything about it, except that it
"gives you a better than a photographic memory". Dick must be falling behind
in his mortgage payments, either that or his alimony is killing him.
I just can't wait for them to increase the bandwidth so that more of these
socially redeeming "programs" can be beamed into my house at all hours of
night. Who knows, maybe they'll even have their own channel. Sorta like a
bargain basement version of the Home Shopping Channel. "The Infomercial
Channel" they can call it. Then all these shows can be segregated to a few
channels, sorta like they do for Public Access programming now. Then they
wouldn't be spread out all over the dial, waiting like so many snakes in the
the grass, ready to pounce upon unsuspecting late night viewers like myself,
and assault us with their false and possibly fraudulent claims, all the time
flashing their 900 numbers and reminding us to have our plastic ready when we
call.
In closing I'd like to quote Dire Straits, never a favorite of mine, but
appropriate nonetheless: "Fifty-seven channels and there's nothing on."
"Why Have Therapy when you can write for HOE for Free!?"
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| Symphony'o'Sick...2017283881 \I'm a PiG/ |
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Copyright (c) 1994 HoE Publications and Chal e. Mac #43 --> 01/15/94
All rights Reserved.
