This is my summer of unemployment. I use the term “summer” in its most alleged sense, since the better part of the 2009 season has included weeks of relentless rain, record-breaking low temperatures, and a mosquito hatching fierce enough to rival a biblical plague. That picturesque Maine summer marketed to the out-of-state public as “Vacationland,” or “The way life should be” seems to have settled elsewhere this year. I hear Seattle is experiencing uncommonly beautiful weather right now. Assholes.
Any other summer, I might have taken this period of unemployment to participate in those adventure-y, tourist-y, nature-y activities so often taken for granted by the local (working) population. However, the combination of dismal weather and depleted funds has thwarted my anticipated escapades and rendered me basically house-bound. So, like any good American, I watch TV.
Highlights from my summer of couchitude include “So You Think You Can Dance,” “Chelsea Lately,” and the endless barrage of “Law and Order: SVU” episodes that has essentially cornered the market of my epileptically vacant attention. Unfortunately, with the good comes the bad, and it is the list of summer television lowlights that has prompted my return to the blogosphere.
With the exception of the abovementioned programs, it seems as though every time I turn on the television I am instantly annoyed. It is the news, in particular, that irritates me most consistently. I tried to watch exclusively entertainment broadcasts to avoid the atrocities of legitimate news, but can’t seem to stay away from my morning dose of MSNBC. I am an addict, and the vastness of human stupidity regularly publicized by the media guarantees no foreseeable end to my frustration.
To cope with this affliction, I have constructed an imaginary island where all those who aggravate me are to be sent. In my mind, the island is uncomfortably hot, barren, and surrounded by barbed wire to prevent any unsolicited departures. Similar to Guantanamo, but without the comfort of barracks and industrial disinfectants. I call it my “Exisle.” Although the roster of potential detainees may seem dauntingly lengthy, I have taken the time to narrow my list to a workable number.
My first nomination for eternal banishment is Rush Limbaugh. Although I am unsure as to how such an unfortunate-looking beast has charmed his way into so many conservative hearts, I’ll wager a guess that his decision to rant over the radio as opposed to on television had something to do with it. While Limbaugh’s crimes of annoyance are basically countless, Contessa Brewer noted that the first person in an argument to reference the Nazi party automatically loses the dispute and any right to further the conversation whatsoever. Well, Rush… you lose. Bon voyage.
My next recommendation for exile is one Jon Gosselin. Regardless of how sadistic Kate may appear (my thoughts go to a Chelsea Lately episode where she was described as “a conniving succubus”), it seems as though her aggressions where rightfully exercised. Any man who fathers eight children and then decides that he “missed out on his 20s” and wants to “enjoy his youth” deserves whatever abrasiveness comes his way. This is particularly relevant when his reintroduction into singleness includes bald sexcapades and reckless substance use sure to make its way back to the same television screen that raised his children. Well… have I got a vacation for you. Aloha, douchebag.
In an effort to remain gender-neutral in my proposed banishment, I would like to now add Sarah Palin to the roster. As Palin initially began her expedited ascent into the limelight, it was somewhat heartening to see a fellow woman so publically revered for her accomplishments and political prowess. It was not long, however, before she managed to contemporize the negative stereotypes historically associated with American women by way of her irrational reaction to a comedian’s provocation and her flighty resignation from her post as governor of Alaska. You can see Russia from your house? Great. Dasvidaniya, freak.
Finally, I would like to round out my list of suggested exports with the mother of all public nuisances (quite literally), The Octomom. Though I feel as though the doctor who had a direct hand in her rapidly multiplying and wildly underserved brood shares much of the blame, I’d like to give mom the primary boot. From her efforts to trademark “Octomom” for explicit use in reference to her imaginary line of designer clothes for infants, to her recent multi-million-dollar reality-television agreement, Suleman receives a solid “A” for child-exploitation and an “A+” for consistently fouling the news. The kiddos stay here; Octomom goes. Later, Eighter.
So, I give you the most recently solidified list of my nominations for exile. My proposal would be neither complete nor official without alternates, who are as follows:
Miley Cyrus, for marketing adolescence as “sexy,” and audibly chewing gum mid-interview.
Ann Coulter, for being so openly and maliciously hateful. And horse-faced.
John Mayer, for holding an impromptu press conference outside of his gym to announce that he was breaking up with Jennifer Aniston, rather than the other way around. Ick.
Kathy Lee Gifford, for ruining The Today Show.