For Chrissakes

Right from the start, I'll admit that I don't know anyone or any place called Chrissakes (althougn there could be such an entity, maybe in Greece or Cyprus?) That's not the point, and there are no religious implications to be exploited here.

Imagine a badly composed watercolor, embedded in folio of bad renderings, then accidentally left in the rain. Never mind others' opinions of the relative merits of this artwork, assume that You found it tasteless, vulgar, amateurish, obscene, or bad by Your standards.

Now imagine an enormous asteroid hurtling toward earth, ridden by critters who don't like people (except as snack food, maybe). There's no time to do anything to blunt its impact, which is predicted to occur either somewhere in the ocean, or else, right on top of Yellowstone Park, which is only moments from erupting in a paroxysm of smoke, ash, and flames. Sounds like trouble, either way. Meanwhile, in a seedy motel somewhere in the middle of nowhere, a werewolf (sporting a goalie mask that's festooned with a bunch of pins) is brandishing cutlery stolen from recently deceased Aunt Millie. A busload of nubile teenagers, terrified, join in a mass make-over. As they stampede toward a nearby forest, geysers begin exploding, detonated by lunatics from the Five O'clock Shadow Guys Liberation Front. This intemperate gesture somehow ticks off Dogzilla, who ambles out from behind some nearby mountains. Finding no suitable fire hydrant, he becomes infuriated, seizes an alarmed Halle Berry (presumably, for later delectation), then saunters over to an enormous mushroom cloud and relieves himself into a smoldering crater, lined with... only seconds before... right after... in response to...

stop... Stop... STOP!

This 'B' movie script is roughly parallel (in style and substance) to what passes for infotainment, reproducible by simply scanning through news, weather, history, and entertainment channels. Throw in a few 'reality' TV programs if you like, (mere ragweeds, under other noms-de-plume), add a few pseudo-scientific weather specials, a couple of analytic-expulsive quasi-political circus acts, and some paramilitary-strike-team-chasing-bad-guys-off-the-monkey-bars extravaganzas. Is there something a bit off, or is reality simply out of focus?

Sad to say, reality itself may not be in need of the soup-to-nuts audio-visual assistance that's being offered (feel free to lurch forward with a better verb). Is there a difference between how we respond to lousy artwork, and our collaborative view of the world (either as reality, or as artwork-in-process). If so, are we even a necessary ingredient to our own fates? More than likely, we will eventually have to sample the stew itself, rather than simply trying to eat recipe cards, if we ever expect to find out how digestible our future will truly be. The ability to assess how real something is (be it art, food, or the world itself) takes more personal attention than we've become accustomed to providing, and just maybe, isn't amenable to delegation.