Well, all the big news coming out of the Consumer Electronics Show (CES) seems to revolve around the new 3D-compatible TVs everyone’s offering. And of course the new Blu-ray 3D specification. Yes, now you too can wear dorky glasses and get headaches in the comfort of your own living room! What is the deal with Hollywood’s insistence on pushing 3D these days? Was there a survey I missed where the entire country rose and spoke as one, demanding their TV shows and movies have an illusion of minor depth added to them?

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I just sat through, for no reason other than it was on, the “Seth and Alex Almost Live Comedy Special” on Fox. Basically a vanity project for Family Guy creator Seth MacFarlane, Fox allowed the egomaniac to do a “variety” show, which consisted of little more than him and Alex Borstein singing badly with an orchestra and telling unfunny jokes. Slow, turgid, and awful.

I’m not entirely sure when Fox decided to make Seth MacFarlane responsible for 95% of their programming, but this was simply too much. The guy has three shows to get his failed Broadway aspirations out, he didn’t need to be granted this masturbatory time block.

They pre-empted The Simpsons for this crap? Really?

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My memory is shot. I say that, not because of the things I forget (which are legion), but because of the things I remember. For instance, all day today, for no discernible reason, do you know what I’ve had running through my head? The Cheese Song they used to run on ABC Saturday morning cartoons. No reason for it. It’s just there, repeating over and over again. I couldn’t tell you my mother’s birthday right this second but, with absolutely no coaxing, I can recite “When I’m dancing a hoe-down/and my boots kinda slow down/or any time I’m weak in the knees.”

Why the hell do I still remember this? What possible good will it do me? I can’t remember how to properly find the area of a circle (something about pi-r-squared, but damned if I know what that means), but I can hear that freakish little whatever-hell-he-was croaking about “hankering fer a hunk a’ cheese” like he was on TV right now. And don’t judge me; you’re the same. Don’t believe me? Try this little test: Quick, without looking, without thinking about it, what’s the capital of North Dakota? Now, also without looking, name the six Brady kids. Which question was easier? I’m willing to bet the one with the six answers rolled off your brain with nary a pause (Marcia, Jan, Cindy, Bobby, Peter, Greg) while the lone answer (Bismarck) you had to really dig for and may not have gotten at all.

TV doesn’t rot your brain; it just fills it up.

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We have the TV on all day at my job, which is only normal since it’s a TV station, so I was able to pretty much watch all ninety-seven hours of the Barack Obama inauguration coverage. First, I do have to say it was damned impressive that they could plan, organize, and execute that massive of an event, for that many people, with pretty much nary a hitch. It was also impressive that the networks could cover everything, live, with hardly any problems or technical issues.

However, they did have to fill and stretch quite a bit to fill all the time they had and so, naturally, there was some repetition. And after watching the vast majority of the proceedings, listening to the talking heads, and hearing the reporters asking audience members the same questions over and over, I’ve determined the most important points, based on number of times mentioned. So if you didn’t have the chance to watch the full length of the coverage, here is a summary of the main points that were made repeatedly:

1. Barack Obama is president
2. He’s black
3. He’s the first black guy to be president
4. His name is Barack Obama
5. Most people in the audience didn’t think they’d see a black president in their lifetime
6. But they’re super happy they did
7. It’s cold
8. Obama’s wife was wearing a dress
9. It’s really cold
10. Barack Obama

There was some other stuff but those were the key items that were brought up again and again. So if you feel like you missed out if you didn’t get to see the entirety of the coverage, now you know what you missed.

Also, Barack Obama.

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Well, Tuesday’s the premiere of the latest season of what is, for me, one of the most boring shows on television, American Idol. Face it: This is essentially four months of karaoke without the benefit of beer. People get up and sing. And that’s it. Oh, sure, they dress it up with phone voting, record deal prizes, and judges who, if you think about it, have no real power or authority, but in the end, it’s people singing for an hour and Ryan Seacrest and neither one’s that entertaining.

It could be, though. One problem with American Idol is the doppleganger cast of wannabes they have every season. Let me make a prediction about this year’s crop of hopefuls. They’ll all be twenty-somethings with perfect teeth and in good physical condition, except for one token chunky kid. You’ll have three or four African-Americans (more girls than guys), and maybe a lone Latino. If they’re feeling dangerous, they may include an Asian who’ll get voted off within two weeks. The rest of the group will be white kids with perfect skin. The women will show an uncanny group preference for midriff-exposing tops and lo-rise pants.

Eighty percent of the contestants will be blonde.

Seriously, except for the winners, can you tell one season’s singers from another? I can’t. So here’s what I want to see. I want to see one contestant who stands head and shoulders above the rest, who is clearly the best singer, not only on that stage, but in the history of all recorded music. I want a singer with a voice that would make grown men weep, a voice that transcends beauty, that caresses your soul and tells it everything is all right, the world is a wonderful place and you are secure in it. A voice that leaves you stunned, shocked into silence lest you tarnish the memory of what you have just experienced.

I just want it coming out of someone who is ass-ugly.

I don’t mean just kind of dorky like Clay Whatshisname before they started assaulting him with gallons of hair gel. I mean full-on, no-hope, camera-damaging ugly. I want this singer to be an extremely homely girl from the Ozarks. I’m talking the full deal here: blackened buck teeth, alarming acne, thirty pounds overweight, skin the color of curdled milk, unshaven legs, full-blown mustache, the works.

Oh, sure, the hair and make-up people would do their level best, but in the end it wouldn’t be enough. You’d have this wonderful, beautiful voice that shames the rest of the contestants, coming out of someone for whom the phrase “good personality” seems generous. I just want to see how far she’d make it in the competition, in this appearance-obsessed society of ours. Would she even make it past the first round, or would people take one look, block all their other senses, and cast their vote for Random Singer #74 who can’t sing as well, but sure looks cute in that top?

So when you’re watching this latest installment of Musical Attack of the Clones, ask yourself: Was there really no one out there who sounded better than these lookalikes? Was there someone who really had a gift to share with the world, but won’t get the chance because they’re not “good TV”?

Ah, America: where you’re worthless unless you’re pretty.

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I’ll be happy when the holidays are over, if for no other reason than I’m tired of every single ad telling me that the product being hawked would “make a great gift.” Doesn’t matter what it is, it would make a great gift. Steaming floor mop? Great gift. Driveway sealant? Great gift. Electric juicer? You got it, great gift. And I always wonder, who would consider these items a great gift? Like Chia Pets. You see those advertised relentlessly this time of year, and they would all, according to the ads, make great gifts. Now, think about everyone on your gift list. Is there anyone who would open up the package, see the Chia Pet box peeking out from the wrapping, and squeal with delight? Would any of your loved ones actually tell you, “Thank you! This was a really great gift!” Of course not. At best you’d get a polite, tight smile and a muttered, and somewhat bewildered, “Thanks.” You’d be lucky if they didn’t throw it at you.

So please, advertisers, stop telling me what would make a great gift. I think I know my family and friends a little better than you do, and none of them are going to want microwavable slippers, an electric pizza cooker, a silicon oven mitt, a twenty-piece knife set, a turkey fryer, or any of the other chintzy crap you seem to think would be a welcome sight come Christmas morning.

Although I might get my cousin a Chia Pet. I’m kind of pissed at him.

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Is there some sort of award in television broadcasting for coming up with the most “clever” male-centric sound-alike terminology? In the last two weeks on the CBS News, I’ve seen stories about how manorexia is on the rise, how to decipher a man’s brocabulary, and how to tell, if you’re a woman, if your significant other is subjecting you to maleienation. What’s next? Encouraging men to go get manograms? An in-depth look at underwear and men who like to wear manties? Talking about how men hide their true selves behind maskulinity?

I’m a shoe-in for an Emmy at this rate.

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So, I watched some of CBS’s coverage of the Republican Convention speeches last night, curious to hear from Palin, and was treated to a fantastic shot of her daughter sprucing up the baby’s hair.

I nearly pissed myself. Honest.

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Oh God, not another Olympics. Seriously? Are we still doing this? Do we still have countries coming together “in the spirit of friendly sporting competition,” even though it’s really just an orgy of political posturing, patriotic chest-thumping, and advertising overload where a corporate logo is slapped on anything that holds still for more than thirty seconds? Bizarre pseudo-sports that no one would even attempt if there wasn’t a chance of pulling a medal out of it? Two weeks of incessant coverage? Whining over partisan judging? Maudlin stories of athletes “doing it for their sick relative”? Performance-enhancing drug scandals? Constant updates of events that feature all the thrilling drama of standing in line at the DMV?

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: The only time countries meeting up is interesting is when automatic weapons are involved.

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In any televised news story about a family pet, there will be at least one shot of the animal sniffing the camera lens.

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