Okay, raise your hand if you want to punch this guy? I know I’m not alone.
I’m not a big TV culture guy. I don’t know who’s on American Idol, I don’t know if members of Jersey Shore are still jiggling in camera shot down the sodden crumbling Jersey boardwalk (I’ve seen pictures of the actresses) or not, and I’m not sure if BJ replacing Trapper was a good move and if the series will last. So, if some living TV canker sore is irritating me, it must be irritating millions.
This particular crusty irritant is Piers Morgan. A Brit expatriate that found himself on our shores and decided to “entertain” us with his insight, opinions, and malodorous smuggery.
At first, this sniveling, snide Brit had me questioning the intellectual capacity and sincerity of those occupying the land that once produced Locke, Newton, and the maladjusted Hobbes. I used to side with the Brits on a lot of issues and gave them an unusual degree of deference in most quarrels, e.g., the Falklands, Belfast, soccer hooliganism etc. It was due to the commonality of our cultures, language, the history, and, as I stated, the thinkers (esp. Locke, you can’t like Jefferson without liking Locke, unless you’re into some weird slave tryst play action–and I don’t buy the Sally Hemmings thing at all btw, but that’s for some other time). Now I see another aspect, a really impressive characteristic that deserves more consideration.
Of course I’ve given the British much intellectual respect as most honest people in Western civilization, but I haven’t appreciated, respected, or even recognized the brilliance of their survival instinct. I’ve come to realize that they’re more cunning than I’ve given them credit for. They’re just as maladjusted, loathsome, and self-interested as the rest of us, but they’re survivors. How else can you explain the dim curtain of flawed reality cascading down on such a historically amusing and entertaining culture? A country that once exported entertainment brilliance in the form Monty Python, Fawlty Towers, and Black Adder (not to mention the classics that well predate my lifetime) is now reduced to exporting a slimy, loquacious, self absorbed, freshly pinched stretch of walking corn mottled excrement. Why? Survival! Can you live with Piers Morgan popping up and inducing intestinal reflux day after day? You’re finding out that the answer to that question is a resounding, “NO”! And if you’re a morally founded society that can’t just kill somebody, and that somebody is as excruciatingly torturous as PM (isn’t it funny how close that is to BM? Coincidence or the result of a keen sense of parental awareness?) then what would you do? Export him that’s what. Send him out to sea, tell him there’s a place in a far, far distant land that will recognize and appreciate his brilliance (so you lie, big deal, it’s about surviving with your morals intact), and ship him off.
This is the lesson we need to learn today. Our greying stepfather still has lessons to teach, and we should seize this opportunity, follow his lesson, and rid ourselves of something truly horrible and unbearable. We’re now in the position the Brits were just a few years back, so lets do as they did and get rid of this human skidmark. Pass him on, like a steaming hot potato but with fetid putrescence that would make hog blush.
Hey Australia, check this guy out! He’s fantastic!