Thursday, October 23, 2014

Blech

             Okay, I’ve been to sea.  I’ve experienced seasickness, or if you prefer, the more pleasant French term, mal de mer.  I’ve been in and around the flu and drunkenness, and I’ve held her hair.  In other words, I’ve seen it.  And by it I mean emesis…you know, barfing, throwing up, making a Cosby sweater, blowing chunks, airing out a Jackson Pollack, going to sea by rail, the Technicolor yawn, sowing Dodgers*, paging Wyatt Erp, or selling Buicks. 
                I was watching the TV when a commercial came on for some other show.  I’m not sure what the other show was about, maybe building choppers, or hunting Bigfoot, or growing beards, but from what I could tell it involved plenty of the aforementioned facial hair along with camouflage clothes, being outside in the woods, being inside a garage, and shoulder punching.  Some older gentlemen were making fun of a younger gentleman for reasons I never figured out, when to everyone’s surprise he…well he compromised his camouflage if you will.  In living color in my living room.
                It used to be that when it was necessary for someone to perform this action on TV, in comedies for instance, he would throw one hand over his mouth and bolt from the room.  He had to “act” as if he were going to throw up.  Sort of how like making funny euphemisms for that particular expulsatory function is cleverer** than just showing it, and less gross.  Now they just, I suppose, hold a pint or so of some special effect semi-liquid, or Beef-A-Roni, in their mouths until it’s time to spill it on the couch, the floor, or the person in the scene to whom it would be most embarrassing.  On reality shows they needn’t pretend at all, thus making the special effects guy unnecessary and taking food from his children’s mouths.  Irony fully intended.
                “But Mark, just don’t watch those shows if you don’t like it.”
                I don’t, but it’s hard to tell if you’ll have to endure this activity until it’s on the screen.  Then there is the bearded Bigfoot hunter or chopper builder from the commercial.  How am I to not watch him and his cronies dirtying up the forest floor when I’m not watching their show?  I’m like that Clockwork Orange guy with his eyes clamped open but without the need of nausea inducing medicine for him to associate what he is watching with sickness.  Clockwork Orange Guy eventually made that association, so I suppose, perhaps, the people who insist on showing nausea inducing programming are conditioning us not to watch their shows.  Maybe I’m over thinking this.  Maybe they’re under thinking it.
But are people clamoring for this?  Are e-mails shooting across the Internets to the makers of these programs demanding more vomit, more bile, more of whatever you can take from inside the body and put outside?  Are there angry letter writers submitting the following?:

Dear Masterpiece Theatre***,
                It is with a heavy hand and great sadness that I pen this letter.  I have watched your exemplary programming for a number of years, but I cannot in good conscience continue to both be a viewer and supporter public broadcasting.  This is in response to the gross lack of vomit and other body fluids displayed on screen during your programming.  I can no longer ignore your mindboggling refusal to show a single person evacuating their wafer-thin mints upon the local vicar or Victorian villain.  It shows me that it is as if you think dialog and plot are superior to gratuitous shots of pavement pizza. 
Sincerely,
Former viewer who has switched to The Real Housewives of Broadbottom****

If the producers of these shows are only responding to viewer demands, I suppose I’ll have to monitor whatever is shown during the commercial breaks of the programs I’m watching, with my finger hovering over the remote control, so I can switch to another channel or even turn the thing off when I detect an imminent evacuation.  Thanks The History Channel.

*I made this one up.
** I’m not comfortable with this word, but spellcheck is.
*** I switched the “r” and the “e” because it’s classier.
**** Real town in England.

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