2001-03-31 / Columnists

From The G-Man: Okay, Shrink Me!

From The G-Man: Okay, Shrink Me!

Hey people! There are times when I wonder if I need a psychiatric evaluation. I say this because I often fantasize about doing certain things to certain people I see on television. I don’t know why I do it, and there is an enormous sense of pleasure I get from it. Perhaps a few of you have shared these thoughts.

Whenever I see "Dubya" on the tube giving some moronic speech, I imagine running up to the podium and mushing him in the face with a banana cream pie. I don’t mean some light-hearted mush either. I mean the type of mush that makes your neck and whole body jerk backward. Call it a mush with conviction. Then, doing my best Gilbert Gottfried impersonation, I’d yell, "There’s your piece of the tax cut pie "Georgie Boy!" I’m sorry, but the man just irritates me when I see him speaking. I’d rather watch reruns of that awfully hideous Kathie Lee Gifford movie that premiered on E! Someone pass me a barf bag.

"The O’Reilly Factor", on the Fox News Channel, is a show where I would love to appear as a commentator, just to irk Bill O’Reilly. Can you get anymore smug than this guy? He never lets you get a word in edgewise. I’ve often imagined myself on the set playing with an "Etch-A-Sketch", and asking him if he liked my stick figure drawings as he mercilessly grilled his guest. That, or I’d keep asking him why Tim Russert, of "Meet The Press" was so much smarter than he was. If he likes confrontation, I’d give him confrontation. The big wuss!

I would have a field day with The Oscars. I’ve fantasized about being the orchestra leader who plays the music when the stars come out to present an award. If Robert Downey, Jr. came out, I’d play Bob Dylan’s "Everybody Must Get Stoned." Whenever an African-American celebrity came out, I’d play "I Can’t Get No Satisfaction," by the Rolling Stones, because they can’t seem to get any major nominations. They’d probably run me out of Hollywood after that, but at least I’d have a smile on my face.

These overly joyous news anchors are getting on my nerves too. Every network has a prototype, and they are annoying as hell. They’ll finish the most heart-wrenching story, and in the next second they’ll say, "Now we go to Bob Lane for our exclusive report on chimps and the people who own them." What’s wrong with that picture? So many times I have envisioned taking a fire hose and opening it up full blast on these perky, self-absorbed, phony media controlled weasels. The news is not news anymore. It’s crossed the line to become entertainment as opposed to having substance, and that is a sad reality. Save the phoniness, give me the facts and get off the air so I can watch "The Andy Griffith Show". Don’t make me miss the opening of the whistling theme. I live for that!

How many bloody cooking shows do we need? You’ve already got Emeril, The Naked Chef, and The Iron Chef. The fantasy involving these guys is showing up on the set and completely taking over the show. I’d call myself "The Disgruntled Chef." Instead of preparing lavish meals, I’d pull out a box of Cheerios, or can of Ravioli, and look into the camera and say, "I don’t cook, and neither should you!" I’d knock over all the ingredients, kick chairs and squirt cheese dip all over the audience. I may not get much in the way of a studio audience, but I’ll bet you the ratings would go through the roof.

The fashion related programs drive me nuts too. Someone is always trying to tell you to wear this or wear that because it’s "in". Versace, Valentino, Donna Karan, and Gucci are constantly being shoved in our faces, and we are made to feel less than adequate if we don’t buy their products. Shut up already! You know what my favorite label is? It’s called affordable! I’d love to show up on these programs in ripped up jeans, with my butt cheeks showing. I’d walk in there looking like a bad version of the artist known as Prince. I’d wear a tee shirt with stains in the underarm area and some really horrendous smelling sandals. I’d make sure I didn’t bathe for a week before going on the show too. I’d give new meaning to the term "funky fashion." Then I’d hit Joan Rivers, and her fashion panelists, in the head with one of my sandals and run like a bandit.

I’d love to go on, but I’ll save these little bits for the book I’ll write someday. Maybe I’m a little psycho, or maybe I’m just crazy like a fox. Whatever the case, I’m sure that I’m not alone when it comes to having such thoughts. If you do, I don’t think it is cause for concern, unless you start making a slow transformation into Hannibal Lecter. If you look at any current event, or trend, you will see that many of them are both tragic and comical to some extent. You only need to look at one word to substantiate this claim, and that word is "Dubya."

See you next week!

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