First, let me explain who I am. I’m a devotee of late night TV (defined as 11:30 pm to about 12 midnight, depending on the circumstances) who has long believed that you were, and are, the rightful successor to the much beloved Johnny Carson. The reasons for preferring you to Jay Leno are plentiful: you are far more witty and clever; you are much less willing to suck up to the politicians of the day; and above all, you can actually conduct an interesting and insightful interview with an intelligent guest.
But therein lies the biggest problem of your show. The quality of your guests has been on a downward spiral for many years.
Fortunately, the first 30 minutes of the show are devoted to banter with Paul and the audience, Top Ten lists, humorous video clips, the absolutely riveting “Will It Float” episodes as well as attention holding escapades in which strange objects are dropped from the top of tall buildings. Mostly sophomoric stuff, but it’s almost midnight and we welcome the silliness.
While silliness may be an acceptable condition at such an hour, guests who are totally devoid of talent, character, and intelligence cannot be tolerated at any hour of the day or night. What prompts this outburst of mine? Well, I’ve seen Paris Hilton (and other such cretins) on your show just one too many times.
Yes, occasionally you have a guest who is truly interesting to hear. They range from highly prominent politicians and major TV personalities to even a few movie stars who are interesting individuals. And, yes, I understand that the guests are there because Viacom is placing them on your show to promote other Viacom-owned businesses such as Paramount Pictures.
But I expect more from you, Dave. That wimpy Jay Leno would never stand up to a network executive and say, “Not on my show!” But you are a better person than that. You have shown on many occasions that you truly have some semblance of integrity. If you tell management that you are not going to stoop but so low, they will back down.
So come on, Dave. Stand up for your long term followers. Stand up for the integrity of your show. And above all, make Harry proud of his dad.
JBY
Saturday, April 30, 2005
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Bye to a Favorite Commercial
One of my favorite commercials has been taken off the air. It was the Levitra commercial. I usually saw it during dinner as I was watching the evening news. Having that gal grope, stroke, pat, caress, and otherwise fondle “My Man” as I was shoveling down food made for the perfect culinary experience. Not.
The news article describing the removal said in essence that the ad exaggerated the potency—my word—of the drug and did not warn of all the side effects. The side effects were not discussed in detail, but based on the ad there seems to be one that has long intrigued me. A New York Times columnist noted it a few months ago.
In the ad, “My Man” never says anything. He simply accepts all the attention with a goofy grin on his face. The NYT columnist hypothesized that the drug renders the taker mute. He may be a sex machine of the first order, but he has lost all ability to communicate verbally. Of course, the gal doesn’t seem to mind. To take a little liberty with the song, she’s as horny as Kansas in August. Anyway, she seems perfectly happy with a man who communicates only in the physical realm. Now, how real is that? And why wasn’t I so lucky back when it matter?
The placement of this ad and ones for similar products in the evening news programs of the major networks has puzzled me. For one thing, even assuming that the only group watching network evening news is composed of us graying boomers and our doddering parents, how many of us really want this in-your-face-reminder of nature’s inevitable progression? And just after we’ve seen the latest slaughter in the Middle East? Please, I’m trying to eat.
Also puzzling is why these ads have not attracted the wrath of social conservatives. Oh sure, there has been some grumbling. But can you imagine the outcry if birth control products were advertised in a similar manner? My theory is that the widespread need for the product trumps any qualms about the advertising. Plus, the social conservatives’ culture of life is not just about being pro-life and anti-death but also about not letting nature take its course. Nature tries to reduce the sexual appetite, but the culture of life crowd says: “No way. Give me whatever is necessary to make the equipment work. To keep me alive, ram a tube down my throat. To keep me sowing the seeds of righteousness, give me a pill.”
Anyway, it’s just a theory.
Advertising erectile dysfunction products on prime time TV presents an interesting quandary. On one hand, a government ban on such advertising would remove something about which most people are probably at best squeamish. On the other hand, a government ban itself is a cause for squeamishness. This is one of those situations in which you wish a few Madison Avenue advertising executives and drug company bigwigs could exercise a little restraint. I just want to watch the slaughters on the evening news in peace.
DSH
The news article describing the removal said in essence that the ad exaggerated the potency—my word—of the drug and did not warn of all the side effects. The side effects were not discussed in detail, but based on the ad there seems to be one that has long intrigued me. A New York Times columnist noted it a few months ago.
In the ad, “My Man” never says anything. He simply accepts all the attention with a goofy grin on his face. The NYT columnist hypothesized that the drug renders the taker mute. He may be a sex machine of the first order, but he has lost all ability to communicate verbally. Of course, the gal doesn’t seem to mind. To take a little liberty with the song, she’s as horny as Kansas in August. Anyway, she seems perfectly happy with a man who communicates only in the physical realm. Now, how real is that? And why wasn’t I so lucky back when it matter?
The placement of this ad and ones for similar products in the evening news programs of the major networks has puzzled me. For one thing, even assuming that the only group watching network evening news is composed of us graying boomers and our doddering parents, how many of us really want this in-your-face-reminder of nature’s inevitable progression? And just after we’ve seen the latest slaughter in the Middle East? Please, I’m trying to eat.
Also puzzling is why these ads have not attracted the wrath of social conservatives. Oh sure, there has been some grumbling. But can you imagine the outcry if birth control products were advertised in a similar manner? My theory is that the widespread need for the product trumps any qualms about the advertising. Plus, the social conservatives’ culture of life is not just about being pro-life and anti-death but also about not letting nature take its course. Nature tries to reduce the sexual appetite, but the culture of life crowd says: “No way. Give me whatever is necessary to make the equipment work. To keep me alive, ram a tube down my throat. To keep me sowing the seeds of righteousness, give me a pill.”
Anyway, it’s just a theory.
Advertising erectile dysfunction products on prime time TV presents an interesting quandary. On one hand, a government ban on such advertising would remove something about which most people are probably at best squeamish. On the other hand, a government ban itself is a cause for squeamishness. This is one of those situations in which you wish a few Madison Avenue advertising executives and drug company bigwigs could exercise a little restraint. I just want to watch the slaughters on the evening news in peace.
DSH
Friday, April 15, 2005
PRIVACY OF THE PRIVILEGED
At first blush, the opposition of Virginia state legislators from largely rural areas to automated cameras at traffic signals is perplexing. Why do they care? When at home, they have relatively few traffic signals to contend with, so the personal burden would not seem substantial. Moreover, their argument that the cameras are an invasion of privacy makes little sense. What is private about operating a motor vehicle on a public road? Only the most wild-eyed libertarians are opposed to government’s regulation of driving.
Recently our neighborhood poker group in a little corner of Alexandria considered the question, partly as a break from the depressing topic of property taxes. We came up with the following thought. What state legislators are really afraid of is the possible negative impact on their own privileged positions that might result from a spread of red light cameras.
State legislators have a notorious reputation as habitual violators of traffic laws. Many of them appear to believe that a pass on traffic violations is a perk of the job. And indeed, their work does involve much time on the road. Campaign events, meetings with constituents, attendance at legislative sessions, all entail substantial travel, usually in a vehicle with prominent license plates.
Local law enforcement officials have been known to treat legislators as a privileged group, according them considerable slack. When the big shiny car with those prominent license plates runs a red light, the conversation can go something like this:
“Senator, didn’t you see that red light?”
“I thought I had a yellow. Guess I was a little preoccupied. How’s the wife and kids, anyway?”
“Oh, they’re doing fine, thank you Senator. You need to be a bit more careful. I’ll just give you a warning this time, but please, take it easy.”
“I will, I truly will. And be sure to vote for me come November.”
“You can count on it. And Senator, I know that you boys in the Legislature say it’s okay to drive with an open can of beer, but it’s really not a good idea.”
“Ha, Ha, you’re right Officer. I won’t open another.”
In the unlikely event that a ticket is issued, a phone call to his or her buddy, the local judge, usually suffices:
“Charlie, Howya doin’? How’s Florrie and the kids?”
“Oh, they’re doing good, Roy. How’s Betty Sue?”
“She’s good, real good. Look Charlie, I’ve got this darn ticket for runnin’ that red light over by the feed store. I’m supposed to be in your court next week but I need to be up in Richmond. Anything we can do ‘bout this?”
“I guess we might. Don’t worry about it. But you should be more careful, Roy. This is the third time this year, right?”
“Yeah, I know, Charlie. And I will. You got my word. Give my regards to Florrie.”
“Will do, Roy. And you give my regards to Betty Sue.”
The impersonal automated camera sharply curtails the legislator’s ability to talk his or her way out of a ticket. The legislator no longer enjoys a privileged position. The camera is not a forgiving constituent or a sympathetic fellow member of the local power structure. Instead, an unforgiving, unmovable, inanimate object is now the authority, an authority that gives the big shiny car with the prominent license plates no respect. In other words, the legislator has lost power and privilege, and that hurts. Yes, cameras at traffic signals are indeed an invasion of privacy: the privacy of the privileged.
DSH
Recently our neighborhood poker group in a little corner of Alexandria considered the question, partly as a break from the depressing topic of property taxes. We came up with the following thought. What state legislators are really afraid of is the possible negative impact on their own privileged positions that might result from a spread of red light cameras.
State legislators have a notorious reputation as habitual violators of traffic laws. Many of them appear to believe that a pass on traffic violations is a perk of the job. And indeed, their work does involve much time on the road. Campaign events, meetings with constituents, attendance at legislative sessions, all entail substantial travel, usually in a vehicle with prominent license plates.
Local law enforcement officials have been known to treat legislators as a privileged group, according them considerable slack. When the big shiny car with those prominent license plates runs a red light, the conversation can go something like this:
“Senator, didn’t you see that red light?”
“I thought I had a yellow. Guess I was a little preoccupied. How’s the wife and kids, anyway?”
“Oh, they’re doing fine, thank you Senator. You need to be a bit more careful. I’ll just give you a warning this time, but please, take it easy.”
“I will, I truly will. And be sure to vote for me come November.”
“You can count on it. And Senator, I know that you boys in the Legislature say it’s okay to drive with an open can of beer, but it’s really not a good idea.”
“Ha, Ha, you’re right Officer. I won’t open another.”
In the unlikely event that a ticket is issued, a phone call to his or her buddy, the local judge, usually suffices:
“Charlie, Howya doin’? How’s Florrie and the kids?”
“Oh, they’re doing good, Roy. How’s Betty Sue?”
“She’s good, real good. Look Charlie, I’ve got this darn ticket for runnin’ that red light over by the feed store. I’m supposed to be in your court next week but I need to be up in Richmond. Anything we can do ‘bout this?”
“I guess we might. Don’t worry about it. But you should be more careful, Roy. This is the third time this year, right?”
“Yeah, I know, Charlie. And I will. You got my word. Give my regards to Florrie.”
“Will do, Roy. And you give my regards to Betty Sue.”
The impersonal automated camera sharply curtails the legislator’s ability to talk his or her way out of a ticket. The legislator no longer enjoys a privileged position. The camera is not a forgiving constituent or a sympathetic fellow member of the local power structure. Instead, an unforgiving, unmovable, inanimate object is now the authority, an authority that gives the big shiny car with the prominent license plates no respect. In other words, the legislator has lost power and privilege, and that hurts. Yes, cameras at traffic signals are indeed an invasion of privacy: the privacy of the privileged.
DSH
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
A Modest Proposal for Solving the Critical Shortage of Certain Professionals
Several years ago Jay Mathews, a reporter for The Washington Post who covers education, developed a simplistic and highly questionable method of ranking high schools. His idea was to take the total number of students in a school and divide it by the number of Advance Placement courses taken by the students in the school. The quality of the students’work was of no importance; only quantity counted.
Not surprisingly, this easily computed statistic has been an enormous hit with school administrators. Their only goal is to figure out a way to entice more bodies into AP courses. And any way of doing so is pretty much acceptable. The desired result is simply to make the score on the Mathews scale - which he calls the Challenge Index - go up. As stated before, the grades that students receive in the classes or the scores they receive on the AP exams are irrelevant.
Recently, Patrick Welsh (an English teaches at T.C. Williams High School) challenged this system of rating high schools and pointed out that it has little relevance to classroom teachers who deal with students of greatly varying levels of academic ability [see The Washington Post, April 10, 2005; page B3]. Yes, it is highly popular with administrators who love to generate whatever public relations spin that they can manufacture. But, no, it really does not improve the overall academic performance of students who are either unmotivated to perform well or who do not have strong academic ability.
What we really have is yet another system for declaring by fiat that every child is a genius. Let’s place every child in every AP course and dull children will suddenly become inspired and start to excel at quantum physics and write insightful analyses of Ulysses. Why didn’t we think of this sooner?
In reality, of course, the content of these classes will be substantially lowered. Because if they are not lowered, a sizable number of students will fail. Mathews’ scheme is just the same old ploy to eliminate any and all semblances of grouping students by ability, because in the sacred scriptures of all professional educators there is absolutely no such thing as differing abilities among students. We can all be rocket scientists if we just fill out the right application form.
This line of logic leads me to a fantastic insight for solving such crises as shortages of doctors and computer engineers. The only thing that we need to do is to triple the enrollment in schools of medicine and engineering. And why are we having trouble doing so at present? Well, we maintain this silly system of requiring that certain “standards” be met before admission is granted to these professional schools. But these standards are not a part of the Mathews Challenge Index system. You just simply put a bunch of warm bodies into medical school and engineering school and, voila, we’ll have solved the shortage problem.
Just one question for Mr. Mathews: Would you allow me to select one of these new graduates from medical school to perform your next by-pass surgery?
JBY
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)