I am a bad American.
By rights, I should have a much more vocal opinion on the doings and doings wrongs of my government, regardless on which side of the fence they build their platform. There?s a lot doings goings ons in the world, and an American should have a knowledgeable opinion of it all ? because we can!
So, in the shower last Wednesday, where for five minutes a day I?m energized about making a difference, I had an odd feeling. I felt like common, every-day Americans like myself were the ones being propagandized into lazy oblivion. We were the ones blind to the happenings of the world, eyes shut and minds accepting. Americans assume that because we?ve always fought on the ?good? side of every major military/social encounter since our country?s liberation, we?re always ?right?.
My odd feeling is a fear that these years, basically since September 11, will be looked back upon as the impetus of a grand American fall from the ?grace? we take for granted.
And where are the proofs, the trends, and the numbers that back this theory? There are none. I am a bad American.
And I blame television, the Internet, magazines, and each and every advertisement I?ve ever seen. And, outside of my daily shower epiphany, I rarely care. Sure, I go to
nytimes.com every day to check up on the news. I peruse a few headlines, read some subheads, and perhaps quickly scan a few sentences. It?s a rare occasion that I read an entire article. Why?
Well, as an excuse-laden answer, let?s consider this past Wednesday I mentioned. Although unique, it?s a typical study in the life of a bad American.
I woke up this day around 8 a.m., my fat cat?s poopy-paw cruelly clawing my face, most likely retribution due to the childhood trauma she endured when my girlfriend and I would play water balloon toss, but with her as a replacement. Not having to be to work until 10 a.m., I had time to relax and do whatever. I first checked my email, then checked my work email (heaven knows why, I?m hourly), then went to
espn.com, then finally went to
nytimes.com. That?s my usual order. But by that point, though, I had read and written emails, examined all the rumors concerning the Red Sox, and swiped at my cat who was dive-bombing my exposed toes. So, after about 10 minutes of Internet, less than a minute of which was real life news, it was time to move on ? to Battlestar Gallactica.
Battlestar Galactica is a very fresh and addicting sci-fi show airing on Friday nights. Because I came late to the show, I have been downloading the episodes on iTunes to catch up before Friday?s new episode. So, on this day, I watched the one where Starbuck gets drunk, a pleasant, character-driven episode, but minus the excitement and energy of the more violent episodes. To make up for it, I played and beat Contra on my original NES. Didn?t even need the code. I?m that good.
It was now 9:30 am, thirty minutes to go. I had to hustle. That?s when my shower occurred, and I was inspired to make a difference. I hopped out ready to write down some ideas, but then realized that I had forgotten to shave. Damn. Nicks on my neck, plus one last check of my emails and I hadn?t written down a thing.
I am a bad American.
I work about 10 hours a day and come home nice and tired, a far cry from my shower-inspired self when I was trying to decide between business school, learning advances physics, or becoming a politician who doesn?t succumb to the succor of suspicious campaign donations. I still had those aspirations in my head, but I was almost gladly misled by a Family Guy episode, a Simpsons episode, a Seinfeld repeat; little 22 minutes distractions at a time.
Soon I tired of TV?s exhausting relaxation, so I turned to my magazines. A
Scientific American, a
Money, a
Writer?s Digest and an
ESPN the Magazine. I picked up the ESPN mag, because it was rife with little blurby distractions, where I get the catch, the copy and the opinion in the span of two paragraphs. Plus, the advertisements are distractions from the distractions! In the latest issue, 2/27/06, there were 116 pages, including both covers. There was one 5-page ad; four 2-page ads; 24 full page ads; six pages that had content plus ads; 3 business-reply mailers; not to mention the table of contents page teasing other articles and many of the articles referencing websites or other articles within this or other issues.
So, there were 37 pages of advertisements in this 116-page, $4.99 magazine, or 31%, each one a distraction from my distraction. ?Wow, nice truck. (My car sucks.) Nice shirt. (My shirt cost $8.) Nice snowboard. (I hate snow.) Nice cell phone. (Mine doesn?t play mp3s.)? And these significant distractions all were before page 7, the table of contents.
After 30 minutes with the magazine and its related distractions, my eyes started to droop, my computer was almost out of juice, and my ideas and aspirations would have to wait another day. I had to sleep.
So Thursday? Was it more of the same or did I spend time pontificating on politics? Neither. I woke up to Phish. Which led me to
Phish.com, which led me to
sugarmegs.org to search for the show where they covered Bohemian Rhapsody. And I can?t concentrate on anything when listening to Phish, not like chamber music or light oldies. It requires its own mindset, one to which I?m quite willing to submit.
Anyway, that?s the story of a Bad American. It?s reality TV. It?s movies. It?s Phish. It?s advertisements, which cause me to concentrate on the superficial in lieu of the super real. Because I can. Because it?s easy and actually quite entertaining. It?s nothing I need to strain my brain to consider. It?s something I look forward to, far more than my business school or my astronomy school or my political endeavors. Because, for 22 minutes at a time, I can put it off with a smile and an occasional chuckle. Because I don?t have a worry in the world that can be counted equal amongst the worry of worldly struggles.
But it?s the worldly struggles that the Bad American like myself needs to concern themselves with! I?m sure we?re at a very significant juncture, and bad things are going to happen, indeed
are happening, but the American majorities? eyes are glazed over because of television, the internet, magazines and advertisements. We?re the ones being propagandized. In no other country can a person be this bad!
We need to wake up! In my one-minute-a-day stay at the luxurious www.nytimes.com, I see no stories of public outrage or outcry over three items that I think deserve both of those reactions. So, on Friday, a shower finally got to me. And I woke up. I?m not going to business school, or going to discover a black hole, or run for office. I?m going to do what a good, idealistic American does ? complain about injustice! Just like our forefathers.
Am I good American? Nope. Because I?m going to complain even without the requisite Washington-insider information that is supposedly necessary to have an opinion.
(Part II of the take-myself-too-seriously article coming soon.)
