Daytime TV

Daytime television nearly always leaves me feeling depressed, confused, and upset at the hours I have lost watching it.

And so the last time I was watching, I decided that it was time to get to the bottom of why.

The reason became patently clear once I started actually looking for it. It isn’t the programming, even though the mildly amusing 80s American ‘thrillers’ enjoy a more privileged midday movie position than they should.

The reason is what goes in between the programs.

It’s the ads.

Ads in different timeslots address us differently. During Masterchef, we might be bombarded with ads encouraging us to incorporate Western Star butter into our culinary adventures, or to use Handee Ultra when we (or our exceptionally gifted children) make a mess in the process of crafting the perfect chocolate fondant.

But daytime television ads are different. These are just some of the things they tell us:

- You are flabby, and need to purchase an Ab-Pro or similar to tone your body

- You are fat, and need to join Weight Watchers to lose the weight and keep it off

- You are too hairy, and need to go to a painless laser place to remove unwanted hair

- You are going bald, and need to visit Ashley and Martin (I’m never sure whether this name is the two surnames of the business partners, or the first names of a homely couple who run a pretty slick hair regrowth clinic)

- You have bad teeth – they are either too sensitive, and you need Sensodyne (advertisement complete with erratic camera cuts), or they are yellow and unattractive, in which case you need a UV whitening light (a solarium for your mouth? Sure, sounds harmless enough)

- You need Foxtel, because the fifteen or so free to air channels are not enough to satisfy your endless search for mind-numbing content. Also, your life will revolve around recording, re-watching, replaying and basically living off, your new Foxtel channels

- You are involved in a lengthy and very costly legal struggle, and require some ‘no win, no cost’ lawyers to help you out with an obligation free phone call

- Your skin is too pale; you need to tan up either with a spray, lotion, or good ole’ solarium

- You have severe acne which is inhibiting your life – you must use the same thing that Delta Goodrem used

- You are in severe debt, and it is time to call a helpline

When I’m pummelled with these ads during the day, I begin to feel sick. I feel that my life is wasting away in front of the television. How will I foot the bills for the arduous legal battle I’m embroiled in anyway?

By addressing us with these messages, the advertisements attempt to shepherd people into the respective roles, and it is this that depresses me.

The final message is, perhaps, all things considered, the kindest one.

Having constructed daytime TV watchers as balding, pasty, chubby, legally hopeless, hairy, gat toothed, debt-ridden, afflicted individuals, the advertisements at least have the mercy to remind us that we will probably die soon.

Grandparents, ruffling a small child’s hair before staring down the camera and smiling serenely as they say,

“We love to keep active and enjoy life. But we know we won’t be around for much longer.”

Then some crisp, suited up woman usually spring in and starts spruiking a funeral plan or life insurance scheme that will mean no family has to bear the financial burden of all the funeral costs. It is always entertaining to watch them attempt to make the proposition of “if you give me your money now, I will help pay for your funeral later” sound tasteful.

And that is why I don’t like daytime TV.

Angry Lady Waits in Queue

An angry woman today waited in a queue, and was dismayed to find that none of the others waiting in the line wanted to share in her outpouring of caustic anger.

The lady was one of several people waiting in a queue at a petrol station when a malfunctioning credit card system caused a delay in service.

The lady, who was waiting to purchase a 600 ml Diet Coke, initially expressed her frustration at the delay by stamping her foot and exhaling loudly. However, when the boy waiting in front of her unwittingly made eye contact, she took the opportunity to articulate her stormy anguish.

"Seriously, he is a f--king dickhead," she opined of the man behind the service counter, adding, after the boy gave absolutely no signs for her to continue her emotional outburst, "seriously, he must be f--king retarded or something."

The boy, who was calmly smiling and nonplussed as he waited to buy six bags of ice, did not join in her speculations as to the competence of the easily within-earshot serviceman, instead avoiding her wrathful gaze lest he incite her to greater acts beyond verbal aggression.

Mother of two Sandra, who was present at the incident, voiced her frustration at the lady. "It's always sad when there are angry people who can't step back and get some perspective on these things."

The lady's unsolicited monologue came to a pithy conclusion after the wait was prolonged for another unbearable minute.

"It's official. He's a f--king retard."

AFL and War: Let's Make a Comparison

One of the footballers said, after the draw last Saturday, "It was war today, and it's not too often you come back and fight a war a week later, but we're up for it."

Mmm, grassy.

Afghanistan

This is no new analogy. AFL is frequently referred to in terms of battles, heroes, casualties, carnage, etc.

The media loves to hype up just how much all Melbournians love the football. And by writing and exposing us to pieces on how football is our religion, or how the only thing that people will judge you by is your AFL team loyalties, these trends (if they ever existed) are strongly reinforced.

My tutor from last Semester suggested that sports are some sort of 'war substitute', which satiate some sort of inherent human desire for conflict, presumably analogous to the 'hate speech' in 1984.

But this becomes confusing if we consider that we have no need for a substitute - Australia is involved in wars already. Why don't people follow the conflict in Afghanistan with the same zeal and passion that they follow the battles, triumphs, and losses of their chosen football teams?

I guess it's because

a) Nobody knows who the sides are

b) Nobody knows anything

I feel so unable to comprehend any of it - sure, I might know that Hamid Karzai is the current Prime Minister, and that the Taliban are still preventing stable governance. But how can I possibly hope to really know anything? All I know are words and figures. They mean little. I read this fascinating interview with Australian journalist Michael Ware, who has spent many years in Iraq, as well as Afghanistan.

He describes the lives of people in Australia (and, I suppose, all people living in affluent nations) as "a bubble floating on the sea of humanity", and notes that once he left it, he is unable to step back inside it in the same way.

I sometimes wonder whether I want to be able to step out of the bubble, and die having known what people are, what they do, why they do it.

And I think that this is why it is so ridiculous to compare football with war. Most people making the comparison have never been on a battlefield. Everything I read about war and violent conflict seems to agree upon the random way in which life and death are handed out.

Nobody goes into a football field expecting they might die. Football is so securely entrenched within the bubble - in a bubble of advertising for sponsors, of team colours, umpires who can stop the 'battle' with a blow of a whistle, and an audience who can actually see and know exactly what goes on on the battlefield.

...and perhaps we would care about them when they did happen.