By Judith Gayle | Political Waves
I have a confession to make: I’m easily embarrassed. It’s almost impossible for me to watch reality television, to observe people making fools of themselves while others snicker. I first noticed this problem waaaaay back in ’70s television when the Gong Show was all the rage. People of modest talent were booked, their shtick running the gamut from unusual to absurd and broadcast to all America while a panel of celebrity judges, reportedly enjoying a coke high, responded to them with snickers and jeers until finally cutting them off with — yes, you guessed it — a gong.
Hilarity ensued as the judges tried to outdo one another, and a grand time was had by all, except for me. I was cringing. After you watched the show once, you knew the drill. Within a few seconds of a guest launching an “act,” the camera would pan to the judges, whose response was evident on their faces. Their next moves were predictable, you could see it coming like a train. The occasional “winner” softened the often cruel rejection of those who came before. The Gong Show was the beginning of “mean” television, which has now evolved into an art form.
A sensitive sort, I began performance at an early age — music, writing, yadda — and because of it, I’m a “good audience,” sometimes to a fault. All you’ve got to do to impress me is to show up and try hard, and I’ll give you my attention and a heartfelt hand. But not when the show is all about demeaning someone, and to the point, the debates have devolved into a race to ruthlessly demonize the POTUS and each other. So my real confession is that as a political writer, I’ve not sat through a single Republican debate, and since they seem to pop up like dandelions on the lawn, that’s a lot of word-salad to leave off the table. In defense of my emotional well-being, I prefer the crib notes.