I write a column under the rubric "New Wrinkles in Aging" for the Albuquerque Tribune, which publishes it the third Thursday. Here is today's:
(Headline: ll this modern technology, and all we get is junk?)
by Arthur Alpert
Every time I succumb to nostalgia, I slap myself. (Thanks, I needed
that.)
Nostalgia is a lie we tell ourselves, Memory’s centerfold, a picture of the past with flaws airbrushed out.
If I were dependent on the medical arts of the good ol’ days, for example,
I’d be dead now. You, too? The past was not idyllic.
Yet we mid-20th Century folk weren’t immersed in crudity.
Let us speak of Janet Jackson’s breast, of outrage and of speed - the alacrity with which CBS, the NFL, Federal Communications Commission and sundry politicians expressed sincere horror.
Morality is supposed to make us behave well, isn’t it? We use it instead to turn eyes away from our own behavior.
CBS would prefer we not notice its passionate pursuit of maximum bucks, its degrading "reality" programming, its processed "news product." (That metallic groan is Edward R. Murrow twisting in his grave.)
The NFL - a theological institute, who knew? - teased out a moral distinction to perplex a Talmudic scholar. The line, that is, between cheerleader cleavage (good) and one breast, tasseled (shameful).
The FCC just noticed that the Super Bowl prays to beer, bosoms, bombast and flybys. Guess the commissioners were busy. (OK, guys, GE, Viacom, Murdoch and Disney aren’t mammoth enough. Let’s supersize them. Who’s calling? Comcast?)
Politicians are scolding the broadcasters loudly. (They will vote for their TV corporate benefactors on tippy-toes.)
Hypocrisy aside, though, the Super Bowl was a sad spectacle. But so is everyday TV.
While we were distracted, you see, its economics and technology changed. Even as Libertarian hordes trashed government regulation.
Result? The TV biz today (over-the-air, cable and satellite) is a highly disciplined search for maximum profit every hour, every day.
That’s why broadcasters who once donated Sunday morning to public affairs and culture, now sell it to preachers promoting happiness by way of the Gospel or kitchen gadgets.
It’s why documentaries moved to cable where they’re safe, thin and celebrity-driven.
It’s why variety vanished. Ed Sullivan put acrobats, opera stars, jocks, headliners like the Beatles, comedians - where’s Señor Wences when we need him? - pop singers, on the same stage every Sunday. Mixing demographics, however, no longer produces big bucks.
Civilized discourse? As the obituaries reminded us, Jack Paar talked to witty "characters" like Oscar Levant, storytellers like Alexander King, even folks with ideas. His successors mine the wit and wisdom of Paris Hilton.
And the attitudes! No more how artfully you wield the remote you cannot escape the negative, inane, tawdry. I play a minor role in the current MTS revival of "South Pacific" and nightly I think, "How naive!" Rodgers and Hammerstein thought romance, decency and kindness exist. Fools!
Nostalgia is a crock, but I remember when TV was broad-casting, not narrow. It was a diversion, a stream in which to dip our toes. Today we flounder in a media ocean, breasting waves of fast-cuts and data bits, color and sensation, sound and fury signifying what? Triviality. At best.
Understanding this, Janet Jackson was able to cut through the clutter.
So here we are - crudity, all day, all the time. Replays at 10. Whose fault is it? Well, broadcasters make good scapegoats, but TV is a mirror. I can see our reflection clearly. Yes, we’re talking morality and loving the maximum buck.
Confession? I am nostalgic. For other values.
You can reach Alpert at www.alpertstruth.com.