pawspauseprose

Life as it arrives and dreams as they happen


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Shh…it isn’t news, it is just bad….

Life has evolved into a spectator sport, featuring Team Terrorist and Team Celebrity, and we have only our sick need for information and gratification to blame, and don’t get me started on the actions of the announcer that represents our country. In the tragically accurate words of Don Henley, “get the widow on the setis the head dead yet…”

This past Sunday, a major news affiliate reported that people have become desensitized to violence and death…ya think??? Social media and an overused state of political correctness now afford everyone the chance to be an armchair quarterback, judge, CSI investigator, televangelist preacher or half naked superstar, posed, poised and polished for success. The result of this voyeuristic saturation has made brutality and suffering on people and animals commonplace, actually the norm, as we check the Internet before facing the day. Where is Walter Cronkite when we need him?

Growing up in a law enforcement environment, there were moments of silence and covertly exchanged looks, which always remained between the walls of our home. However on occasion, my father, who was the Police Chief, did mention when something profoundly affected him, but only to explain his demeanor, or to possibly make his family aware of a potentially serious matter. Regardless of anything he would speak about, it was a given that it was not for public knowledge, and with a deep sadness in his eyes, he would call it a tragedy. This exact scenario continued into my married years, with my own Police Officer spouse, and like before, any knowledge of the personal pain that someone experienced, or caused, remained in confidence.

I am not saying it was ever easy to keep shocking details, stories and events secret, they were no different from what The Enquirer pays big money for today, however, it wasn’t newsit was tragedy. Those things had happened to real people, with real lives and real emotions, and they were the ones left with the aftermath…not me.  Luckily, the only social media available was over the phone or across the yard, but even with that, we still expressed compassion and concern, along with the understanding that it could have been our family, and we were always respectful.

Unable to do the work, create the dream or face the struggle, people now find it easier to live life through social media, while watching horror unfold for some, and fame and fortune for others. Daily doses of Facebook, Twitter and Instagram are all that color generic lives, which once had personal goals, family achievements and memories intended to be passed down. Why make a life, or take a chance, when the same results will appear on the news? Imagine the pain, suffer without consequence, and above all resent your failures – all without leaving the house.

When Pandora opened the box, and a fruit stand opened in the Garden of Eden, innocence became lost, and the world has forever paid the price, on knowledge never meant to be shared. Ignorance isn’t always bliss, but there are times when it is still for the best. Likewise, entertainment that was once uplifting, is now uploaded on a grand scale, the majority of which is horrifying, and has nothing to do with laughter…unless you like cat videos, and if so, that is a whole different box of drama.

The earliest days of movies and entertainment featured pratfalls, self-deprecating humor, and a few pies in the face. We laughed, because it exposed our hidden fears of being publicly humiliated, and/or embarrassed. When it progressed to drama, we faced relationship pain on an undesired streetcar, lost dolls in a valley, and saw a simple man, that innocently pulled a Charly Gordon, again facing what we didn’t want in our own life. The difference is, back then we also examined our values, morals and attitude, and made a choice to do better. Now however, we don’t face anything, and what is there, is in full color, hour after hour…someone else’s life, watched vicious and vicariously, in complete abandonment, always demanding they give an emotional reaction… for our satisfaction.

Many years ago, as I recovered from a physical assault, horrific stalking and the loss of my employment as a single parent, I found myself sitting across from a therapist, thinking it would help. The one thing I remember, almost as much as the attack I lived through, was this complete stranger asking me to detail the event, so he could say, how did that make you feel? Seriously…how the fuck do you think it felt? Needless to say, my anger and rejection from that emotional care left me with a hairpin trigger whenever I hear those same, intruding six words.

Verbally rehashing trauma may be beneficial to some,  however I am not one of those people, and even if I was, it needs to be done in private, and not in public, on diamond vision or across a bandwidth.  That being said, those same damned words are now the prying calling card of social media, entertainment and the news.  People facing the darkest moments of their lives,  have to also expect a camera focused squarely on their pain…and face, from a reporter writing a lead if it bleeds breaking news spot.

It is long overdue for humanity to rediscover common decency, and the knowledge that nobody has the right to ask such questions.  The time has come to again offer a hand, and confirm someone is not alone, and they have a friend if they need it…what a novel concept, just like the books used to prop up a laptop, and not feed a brain.

My grandfather used to say that it always seemed our destination took forever to get to, but coming home was ten times shorter. I still cherish his wisdom, especially since  the way our world and commitment to one another has disintegrated, the trip back home is going to take a very long time…if we ever get there at all.

 


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Pass the Scotch…tape

sex tapesSome things in life are inevitable, like chicken nuggets, being heralded as parts is parts, the need for personal space, and cellophane tape, sticking anything into place. However, should you shake them up in a bag, what comes tumbling out is our society (or lack thereof) and the way people make money in our new unordered world.

As a young girl, I loved hearing real family voices, on Dad’s reel-to-reel tape recorder, and later felt my independence, with a cassette player, screaming out odd remixes of Frank Sinatra, Led Zeppelin and the Carpenters, with Humperdinck thrown in for romance. It was also fun, recording a favorite television show on my 30 minute a side, K-Mart cassettes, that came three to a bag. Mentally watching an episode of MASH or Hogan’s Heroes, I thought I was all that and a bag of chips. To this day, the wishing episode, where Hawkeye needs a new pair of boots, is mentally and forever in my head, along with the icy, cold puddle of water he steps into, which I saw a hundred times from my mind. Having such ability was freedom!

However, as that freedom evolved, so did the magnetic mystery of tape, and soon we had VHS,  actually capturing and televising our family moments, as well as private ones, best left at the Super 8 Motel, and camera of the past. Suddenly, it was possible to have your world immortalized as a movie, captured to share, or be remembered, whenever you wanted. For the most part, it was wonderful, reliving priceless times, many that would never be repeated. However, about that price part…

In recent years, bedroom rodeos of the bare back, and butt variety have become giggle and blink moments of unscripted release. Such grainy, personal and sex-filled tapes, made in the heat of passion, the moment, and behind closed doors, have no business in the public domain, unlike The Pink Panther, who got his point across with similar innuendo, but acceptable animation. Be that as it may, sex does sell, and becoming rich, and/or famous these days, is often due to the accidental or retaliatory release of such a video.

When did it become a viable revenue stream to flash your parts on tape, letting them perform to the masses?  Only to later cry foul…or chicken, and go to court for a tidy pay off in the millions, or see a foundation for  lifetime notoriety built. Whatever happened to working an honest day of work with pride? The number of times sex tapes are mentioned in the media anymore is uncountable, even if they appear to have pride attached…false or not. But who really cares, since the payoff is usually more than real.

Life taught me a simple and good rule of thumb. If it’s private, keep it covered, and if you have to, tape it down to avoid an accidental embarrassment. Also, try to keep your life whole, because once parts start flying free, there will always a missing piece, and once a piece is lost, there’s a hole that never gets filled right again.

In addition, if you need to record a sexual moment, do it in your heart, because that’s where it belongs anyway…along with the person sharing it with you. Life may be a movie in many ways, but there is never a need to publicly audition, because your soul is the only thing you’ll ever truly own, and once it is sold, the world will own you, and no amount of money, or crime scene tape can ever put it back in place.


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Recipe for disaster: ½ cup ego, and ¼ each of boredom and ability

selfiesAlthough we now say, Different Strokes for Different folks, it was a Sly remix of Different Strokes by Different Folks, that brought it into the family. Regardless of the origin, coupled with the freedom of the Internet, it now takes on a whole new meaning, from simple Idiom to deviant idiot…mainly because we have too much time, are paid for doing nothing and have more ability at our fingertips.

Once upon a time, cable television and HBO brought previously unheard profanity and sex into our homes, if you had a scrambler; otherwise, you got static and strange shadows, which frankly might have been a good thing. Suddenly, visions of personal privacy were no long secret, and swearing like a sailor became the norm, in everything from cartoons to the daily news…then we really hooked up! Because clicking a power button, is more than a simple turn on. Live and in the flesh tone, the world presents itselfie, via standard pose, moving gif or video…welcome to the world wide weird!

Photographs once commemorating, or memorializing a moment in time, used to be taken when someone either didn’t want to be in the picture, or was more than happy to oblige, posing and giving their best or worst shot possible. Looking back on such relics of film art, there are tears and moments of laughter, since we know that is how we’ll most likely remember those certain someone’s. So, taking that for what it’s worth, how will our grand children explain Aunt Valerie’s Vulva?

Since human dignity and personal values long since jumped ship, leaving the brain to function on its own, we’ve allowed our growing knowledge of technology, along with boredom, due to lack of employment, education, imagination or desire, to fall victim to personal vanity and ego, with vile results. Children as young as six are sending off pictures in their underwear to friends, or worse…and anyone with a free right hand (awkward pause), can click off a sensual, sexual, scintillating and/or scandalous photo, unsuitable for an instant upload, and eternal mark on the highway of cyber communication. All because they need a like, or comment from the darkness of their room and soul. As a certain Church Lady would have said, “Isn’t that Special!”

When did waking up in the morning, wanting to have a great day, do a good job and love one another become a footnote? Telecommuting and lack of real employment and education in general, has given birth to a society of misguided individuals, that see breaking the Internet, with their private parts in a public post, better than a gold watch, and unpaid ticket to popularity. It is also highly doubtful, that they will ever see the stupidity of their actions, because after all everyone is doing it!

When X rated films hit the screen, the equivalent of what is now seen on cable or Youtube, I was a newly married twenty year-old, and went to see one with my husband and another couple, out of curiosity. The theater was old, because just like in Vaudeville, when an act plays Burlesque it’s finished. No one was looking at each other either, as we picked up popcorn, and purchased overpriced tickets of $8 (a regular film back then was $1.75.) Before the film even started, I learned embarrassment also had a price, and the fact that I actually ate the popcorn, freaks me out still today.

Nevertheless, we peeked into the filmed bedroom, and watched as others did it, with reckless abandonment, in every orifice, and with devices never intended for personal use. There was also strange background music, which later triggered a gag reflex, every time I was in an elevator with musac (Google it.) I can say now, as I did that night, it was not entertainment. I also remember how none of us talked on the ride home, except when the guys laughed hysterically at some of the aerobatic poses, and areola exposures. Maybe it was because I took my values along with my curiosity, and they were mortified. Be that as it may, it took years to forget that evening, and the salad dressing used in Barbara Broadcast.

My ire if you will, is that again this week came a deluge of naked celebrities, with black lines across a top and bottom section, equaling nothing more than exhibitionism, for the sake of an ego, a troubled level of self esteem and pure boredom. Yes, I know porn is porn, and will always be around for those who need to make it, view it and desire it. However, a daily and amateur offering, into streams of communication everyone is submerged into is wrong.

These instant, mini electronic posters for adulthood, which young minds view, and copy, send a very wrong message. I don’t know about you, but Uncle Sam saying, I Want You, had nothing to do with a pair of naked breasts, or an erect penis at attention. War efforts may have a political bend, and not something everyone agrees upon, but right now the war is at home, and like it or not, we can’t afford to butt out or turn the other cheek.

The naked truth, which needs to be face-timed, is that we are creating a generation of children that believe it is acceptable to show and tell, as well as reach out and touch, what should be private and personal. Eventually, without the proper foundation and direction, they will also end up paying the price for their lights, camera and unsupervised, but emulated actions, and we will have no one to blame but our selfies.