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News at 11!
Or, whatever.
I’ve had enough! I am quite sick of everyone on TV (and I’m sure other forms of media) having to represent something while putting their face or voice “out there.”
You may be “black” or “Muslim” or have some missing body part that makes you special. Maybe you’re gay and recently decided to advertise this discovery, as if you found King Tut’s tomb. Whatever the case may be, you cannot just do anything caught on camera without representing SOMETHING. Some cause needs to rally around your actions to sponsor or, at least, pressure to sponsor you. Every face spotted in a public place or televised program must MATTER somehow.
Are we all NASCAR racecars in need of multiple decals applied to our appearances? Isn’t spotlighting someone for being black or handicapped as bad as mistreating them for the same reason? I’d say so.
Oh, Mr. Writingbolt. You have a big head. What does this thing you are doing mean to all the other big heads in the world? How does it feel to be a big-headed person in this event? [Why don’t you just take a picture and plaster my big head on your billboard while you’re at it, you thoughtless jerks. Better yet; start a charity for big-headed people and ask me to be the spokesperson, so I can annoy people with incessant ads while they’re trying to unwind from their day.]
If you don’t represent, you don’t matter…UNLESS you are the poster boy or girl for some branch of the Disney Empire…then you’re straight. You’re okay. You can skip the representation line. In fact, it’s best if you don’t represent anything and can be molded into whatever role they’re willing to give you. If Disney says you’re going to be a penguin, you be the best damn penguin you can be and remain the same for eighty years. Okay? And, don’t you dare be caught on camera as anything or anyone else.
[Some would say the opposite of the above is true, regarding Disney. You might say they are all about representing something bigger than an individual’s effort/achievement. And, I wouldn’t say you are wrong. But, there is a strange sort of “molding” in the world of Disney that is racist, sexist and/or pressurized. If you are approved by Disney to be part of their world, just about anything you do will be heralded and applauded. You cannot lose if Disney approves you. And, the more ground and resources Disney acquires, the more they can approve and manipulate. Once you lose or abandon that approval, you go into witness protection (so to speak); you disappear and, probably, keep your mouth shut if you don’t want trouble.]
My stomach cannot remain calm. I’ve seen far too many bleached teeth, BOTOX’d faces and staged dramatic scenes befitting some show bent on pairing people together while too often failing to do just that.
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Spontaneous detour…
Meanwhile, I see someone, who’s generally pretty, flashing a shine on their cheeks and/or their forehead…maybe a little cleavage, too. And, I want to scream. I know how I don’t like to look at myself in the mirror, anymore. But, if I have to resort to THAT, to treating my face like a clay pot with cracks in it, any confidence I claim to take from it will never be genuine. It’s fraud that’s so apparent, you don’t have to “represent” it.
If I looked like that, I’d be cracking on the inside, anyway. My calm would be as fragile as tissue paper (as if it’s not already). I might as well slather myself in mayo…because, you know, every “helpful” cream out there has to be as white as bird poop. Am I hiding something? Am I repairing myself? No; what gave you that idea? What? You can SEE the stuff on my skin? The size of my head doesn’t suit the rest of my body after taking weight-management drugs? You mean I don’t look fit and trim when I’m obviously uncomfortable in my own natural body?
How do you address someone who is obviously paranoid about every little line on their face (yet unable to do anything about moles)? How do you convince them that they don’t have to look plastic to be accepted for who they are? It’s not any easier with so many ads for toothpaste and the same dentist/dental assistant ready to put you in the spotlight for being “less than white.”
This sort of vain behavior is the collateral damage, the side effect, the aftershock of excess representation (and soooo many accolades, so many trophies).
You can treat your body like a plastic toy. But, soon enough, you’ll sacrifice your mind and soul, too, just to forget what you did to yourself out of vanity overload.
Now, I’m not saying you cannot “have work done” if it genuinely helps you feel better on a daily basis. If it helps you look in the mirror with comfort, have at it. If it allows your clothes to rest comfortably against your skin without an annoying burning or itchy feeling, that’s good. If you can remove a bothersome mole or outbreak of spots that make you look like you’ve been hit with a plague, I approve.
On the other hand, if you think you can plaster wrinkles the rest of your life, you’re crazy. There comes a point when the human body simply unrolls something in response to your chosen lifestyle. And then there is aging. We all have to age someday…as far as I know.
But, DO NOT attempt repairs if you must be on camera “the next day.” You might as well have your clothes on the floor. I suspect this is why some actors and actresses must learn to put up with things like crowded teeth; the alternative would be more detrimental to their career, especially if they “have to always be on.”
If this “work” leaves you looking like an art project gone wrong…I’ve got nothing positive to say. It’s tragic (what you did). I’m pretty sure the right people–as I’m often told–would accept you, wrinkles, spots and all.
[I haven’t exactly found those people, yet. So, I could be wrong. But, I’m still bothered by the excessive and obvious evidence of vain reconstruction.]
I know a few celebrities who actually look good with wrinkles and gray hair; they aged well. And, even if they don’t, how can we be heartless and treat them as anything other than human (like ourselves)? I don’t necessarily approve of everyone who “embraces the gray” and changes everything to be “platinum,” including their wardrobe. But, some “grayheads” look good. The others simply don’t need me or anyone to evaluate them.
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Back to the matter of excessive and canned representation…
If I hear one more person ask, “What does (what you recently did on camera) mean to you (as a representative of ___)?
It means everything to you. The experience is amazing and unbelievable. You are so fortunate. [And, you recite this more than once, whenever you are hit with the same tired, abused questions, as if you have to sell the show, so others will submit to its deception and feed the monster.]
…I don’t even want to say it. But, I’m ill.
—–
I’m going to pause, again, to give a response from my own gut. I don’t care what televised thing I am doing. Even if it actually alters my lifestyle, my personal world and space, in some way that makes me feel life just got better, it does NOT “mean everything to me,” no matter how dazzling it may seem. I could win the billion-dollar lottery and still find myself facing the same daily struggles when the money runs out (if I don’t invest wisely).
I don’t think anything should hold the value of “everything” because that would make it lethal. Your life means everything to you…or you die. A few weeks with a televised contest of a very staged fashion should not impact whether you live or die. Those trite expressions really annoy me. They are a loss of your common sense, submitting to emotional overload. Some would call this dramatizing, the equivalent of throwing a fit about this being “the worst day ever.”
Are we honestly supposed to believe every person who recites the above lines is being genuine? Everyone of them has had the “everything” experience from being part of this show? I highly doubt that. So, why say it?
If anyone is saying something just to respond to a microphone in their face, to appease the snoop, I’m going to get agitated. If it was a great experience for you, say so, but don’t exaggerate to the extent that you make it sound like everyone should do what you did. Odds are they won’t get the chance; so don’t deceive or tease them. Just speak for yourself (and say you had a good time).
And, if you want me to say the above lines, I will not respect you. If you threaten me to say those lines, I will probably comply and then avoid you like the plague for the rest of my days, regretting the trap I entered. I will speak unkindly (to say the least) of you whenever possible. I will NOT be coming back to watch others play your game. And, I will not tell others to play along.
—–
How is anyone supposed to feel “normal” or comfortable with anything they do if it has to be put in the form of a term-paper Q-and-A?
What makes matters even worse (on top of nauseating) is when what someone “represents” is tainted with falsehood, when something like charity is just a wholesome cover for something questionable. Imagine someone who is being promoted as the poster man or woman for a new movie while secretly participating in sexual assault or financial fraud. Imagine a charity that’s just an excuse for a tax write-off (evasion) or cover for a measly paycheck on some game show. And, we never know until someone decides to take that person to court; that seems to be the status quo for exposing a lie.
When the truth comes out…if it ever truly comes out…there’s often no coming back from it. They’re marked. [Yet, some famous faces have a remarkable way of redeeming themselves in whatever way they can. Some buy their way out of legal action. I don’t necessarily accept that redemption. But, others seem to give it a stamp of approval.]
When do we get out of the classroom, out of the spotlight or off the podium? When does a “celebrity” get to just be the person they were named instead of the face of something on a poster? No wonder we can’t be okay with a little weight gain or flawed skin. Every time we see someone “famous,” they have to be…perfectly okay with everything. If they’re having a bad day or craving something that’s not family-channel approved, there must be something wrong with them; they need “help.” [And, that isn’t the sort of help you get from spending a relaxing day with a good friend.]
Of course, we need to have more ads for psychological help, for all those harmed by the sheer overload of representation, I bet. It’s damage control for a bad habit that’s being promoted like smoking (or, more recently, “vaping”); we are told it’s bad but some people still feel the need to sell you something that contributes to the problem. It’s like sitting at an award ceremony and going home with nothing but the memory of being caught on camera with no accolades to advertise.
So, what are YOU doing here at this award ceremony, where so many are being spotlighted for their recent projects? Nothing? Well, at least, you and your plus one are…uh…looking good. Who are you wearing? Okay. We don’t care. See you on the best dressed reel, tomorrow, and in the next issue of People magazine. Do you have a quote we can use?
It’s bad enough “celebrities” have to be canned the way they are when “promoting” their latest film, podcast or whatever. It’s like a never-ending job interview. You can’t say anything negative about anything, even if it just popped in your head while being asked about the director or a co-star you cannot stand. What was it like? It was…AMAZING. It’s all good. Right?…as you choke on the vomit in your throat. Pitch that resume. Get the next job offer. Everyone wants you because you don’t complain. You’re flawless. [As if.]
Now, if the above turns me off, it turns off my TV. And, if other people turn off the TV or ignore the magazines, all that time and effort applied to painting celebrities as polished and perfectly happy is wasted. No one’s even looking when someone is jabbing a microphone in a famous face and, obviously, making them feel pressured and uncomfortable with the “routine.”
I may not be a fan of some people, but I’ll be less of a fan of more people if they continue to be displayed this canned, artificial way. Even my favorite faces darken my heart whenever I see them “masking” something. I don’t like telling lies, and I don’t like seeing others do it. I’m not the best judge of liars, but, eventually, I know and retaliate.
If celebrities are prone to seeking psychological help, using recreational (and illegal) drugs and facing plastic surgery, what do they think their “fans” are doing? Isn’t it apparent? If someone is in the spotlight, silently saying “this is okay” (what they are doing), witnesses will emulate. And, if the witnesses cannot afford what the celebrities are doing, they will bankrupt themselves in more ways than just financial.
Talk about being bad examples. Forget whatever you think you’re representing for a job that lasts less than a year. Think about your impact on the lives watching you. Of course, when your luxurious financial well-being/ego depends upon that job, you might slight (all of) your spectators. Having to be more selective about the food and/or clothing you buy or what parties you may have to skip is too much to bear (for you).
[If all of this “pressure” is deemed necessary to get a film into theaters (especially a film that betrays its source material by changing the story, as so many films do for whatever reason), I’d say the whole thing is a waste of resources and people. A big budget disaster and lie is what I’d call this. Instead of sticking one cigarette into one person’s mouth, you’re making the whole sky toxic by crowding countless mouths with rolls of excuse paper. Add on the magazine features, DVD extras and merchandise…and I’d be inclined to consider something dark and disturbing I’d rather not mention.]
Can’t everyone just be somewhere, participating without representing? If you’re a guest on a talk show, sure; you’ll want to have something to discuss. But, honestly, for anyone who’s just happy to see someone they like, can’t fans simply enjoy that?…versus pressing the same old questions about what’s coming to theaters or (Cable) TV? See. Then it would actually be good to see someone, again, versus catering to a “plug.”
You know what would really make a celebrity shine in my eyes? Seeing them completely comfortable in their own natural skin, warts and all. [Of course, few or no warts would be better because even I have been conditioned to be that vain.] They don’t have to be the most shiny Muslim or black person (who isn’t exactly black because their parents are “mixed”) or participant in any celebrity showcase. They don’t have to be wearing designer clothes I’ll never afford nor wear. They don’t have to have their ribs showing, bleach their naturally brown skin or dark hair or fit into a size-0 dress. They certainly don’t have to flash cleavage (especially if it’s not there). They don’t have to invite thieves and trolls to assault them (with how they present themselves).
Crack a joke. Tell an embarrassing story, once in your life. Blush a little when you make a mistake. You’re human. Represent that.
But, he or she can’t just be comfortable with their self. They also have to exhibit a compatible personality (for me to like or ever love them). And, if they don’t have that compatible personality? Then I don’t have to be a fan…and that’s okay! Everyone doesn’t have to be the fan of everyone else. Just don’t add to the hate by pretending to be something you’re not or letting anyone spotlight you for something you did not come to do.
[In the case of a certain dancing competition, you didn’t sign on to tote a sign for “black lives matter.” You came to prove you could dance and, maybe, win a trophy. So, if someone asks you how it feels to be the first black woman (if that’s even true) in the finale (and ensuing tour), you don’t give them a single word of compliance. You tell them this isn’t about being black. This is about you. And, as selfish as it may seem, it will be respected. Maybe you’re not toting the weight of every racial issue popping up in the world, but you’re helping yourself with art therapy. Represent that. It’s more important for all of us to heal ourselves and appreciate the arts than think about how being famous and black makes you the spokeswoman for an entire race of people. And, shame on all who press these routine questions on camera; you are tools, slaves of the media. What do we know about slavery? Exactly.]
Go away, you who are phony, canned, visibly waxed, bleached….artificial. And, if you are being forced to represent something for a cause rather than being welcomed for who you are as a person, I don’t want to see you. Forced representation sucks. It’s a bad perfume ad. We don’t need perfume or makeup to cover what we are. We need to know who and what we are and accept that.
Period.
Mic dropped.
I accept that I may be more wordy than others; it’s a side effect of the pressures I’ve been forced to endure. Being more wordy has helped me be more creative expressing myself. It helps with creative writing and solving word puzzles, too. I used to be a quiet kid who did as he was told, trusted and respected most adults (even some who were not family and probably should not have been trusted) and kept himself busy (so he wouldn’t anger his unhappy, quarreling, fussy parents). Then someone, who I trusted to help me steer away from suicide, threatened my life with what they were paid to distribute. And, that turned me into what I am today. I don’t need to represent other wordy people as some sort of cause for mental health or promoting a movie. I’m just me, one of the more wordy people in this world. If you don’t like me, find someone else to read.
Sometimes…Olympics Commentators Suck
Tags: 2024, athlete, athletes, athletics, broadcast, celebrity, commentators, comments, condition, editorial, exhaustion, fame, France, interview, judge, judges, judging, media, Olympics, opinion, Paris, press, PTSD, respect, sportscasting, stress, summer olympics, technical, television, therapy, timing
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I’m going to come right out and say it. Most of the commentators for the Paris 2024 Summer Olympics (and probably every other Olympics I have seen) suck. I’m speaking specifically about the “American” commentators, including those foreign accents who have found comfy seats among the American-English-speaking folks. [If you watch the Olympics in some other country and dislike your commentators, I’d be interested in hearing your story.] It doesn’t matter how velvety-smooth your voice is (I’m looking squarely at the stout, brown-skinned, bald man with glasses who is…everywhere…like a VISA credit card); you people cannot restrain yourselves enough to give your American athletes, your celebrities of choice, the very people you have to interview, more respect when they are in poor condition to respond.
Key words: in poor condition…and have to interview. We know you have to interview them because they’ve been advertised and sponsored better than cars in a NASCAR race or horses in the Kentucky Derby. But, interviewing someone when they are out of breath and probably don’t have enough oxygen in the brain to sensibly respond? That’s just dumb…and rude.
[And, flashing a pretty face while laughing does not excuse you, either, Miss Maria Taylor, miss late-night, golden-brown goddess, miss supermom. The laughter feels a little forced, canned, at times. But, you seem to have better luck with interviews, maybe because you get the night shift and “next day” moments and are not typically seen with athletes right after their events.]
If you DID have respect, you’d ask different questions and wait with them until the athletes can breathe easier. But, no, every damn interview has to include “What does this medal you just won mean to you and to your country?” [But, more importantly, your country.] And, you cannot wait to ask these stupid, repeating questions, as if someone is holding a gun to your head. [And, it’s not a starter pistol.]
The nerve you highly polished morons have to mistreat these fragile souls who risk their lives to get a medal for their countries. I’d like to put all of you through the paces and then jab a microphone and fifty cameras in YOUR faces. See how YOU feel in the hot seat.
In your haste, all you accomplish is getting the worst from your interviews. Sure, you probably curb some negativity, because the athletes are depleted. But, that’s also lucky and risky thinking. If I was in one of those interviews, gasping for air, dripping with sweat, I just might let a few words fly that wouldn’t sit well with broadcast TV. I might end up a news feed scandal for what I said. And, I’d have you careless jerks, with your pressed suits and bleached smiles, to thank for my scarring slip.
I have to wonder…do the athletes have the opportunity to refuse? Can they bypass the microphones and cameras waiting just a short distance from whatever they call a finish line in their event? Can they shake their heads and walk away, giving themselves time to regain strength and, maybe, tidy themselves before answering stupid, repetitive questions? If not, shame on the rules and/or customs of this venue. And, if the athletes repeatedly fall prey to the microphones, hoping they will be asked/told something reassuring just to hear the same tiresome, annoying dialogue they hear after every other “run” they take, that’s also very sad.
If you must talk to someone when they’re out of breath, try asking how good it feels to be done with the event. Ask something that helps relieve the athlete of their current exhaustion and/or distress. Offer some encouragement; say they are okay, now that the trial is over. Tell them to have some fun if they’re not required to compete again. Don’t give them some patriotic BS or expect them to wave the nation’s flag for you. And, give them a towel or water bottle!
Now, you might point out the interviews that take place some vague time after the events, when the athletes have had time to don fresh, dry, sometimes stylish clothes and groom their hair (if they have any). In those instances, sure, there is more respect. But, there is still the chance stupid questions will be asked. I think there is some dumb writer behind all of this who preps a carbon-copy list of questions some lousy high-school teacher would give his or her class. Every year, every group, the same questions get used.
The athletes seems more interested in how the medals contain bits of the Eiffel Tower, but you’d rather ask about patriotism. What do you THINK the medal means for their country?! It means a digit gets added to the damn medal count you can’t stop discussing!…as if medal counts mean everything or more than the bonding of nations. Good grief! The athletes offer you opportunities for unique discussions, and you throw recycled formal letters in their faces.
[‘No wonder interviews produce bile in throats, making those interviewed shift uneasily in their tiny, uncomfortable seats and roll their eyes. Yes, I said bile.]
I’m also extremely sick of the commentators who feel the need to judge every little move an athlete makes, down to the tenth of a point and the hundredth of a second. Let’s just say gymnastics is really, REALLY annoying to watch, in that way. I get excited watching a swimming relay; and then some technical jerk says the last swimmer for the team I favored lost by a hundredth of a second. I don’t want to hear that! What’s next? Losing by one thousandth of a second? Spare me. Spare the world that PTSD.
Imagine failing to get a good grade in school or get the approval of your boss at work because you were a hundredth of a second late with your work. It’s no wonder athletes become edgy, paranoid, egostical. I’d have a breakdown, too, if I heard three or more people moan about me missing out on a medal by such a small margin. Give them a break!
She came in fourth! Okay? That’s all you have to say. You can kiss the precision of your modern metering technology or make detailed notes in your meticulous journals when the microphones are off.
Then there’s the tendency for commentators to become drunk with crowd noise and fumble their way through commentary. Words spurt from their lips in the heat of the moment, skewing reality, not always making sense. I’d be the same way if I had to talk about gameplay while playing any game. Maybe that’s a sign; maybe we don’t need comments on every single move athletes make. We don’t need to talk about how that female athlete’s legs bend or how her lead would look even more impressive if you took away the hurdles…in a hurdle-leaping race. [What sense does that make?] If you take away the hurdles, it would certainly alter the results. You don’t need to make the leader of the race sound like a goddess. She’s still human. Egos get shattered every day in athletics. Occasionally, environmental factors interfere.
[Hey, why don’t you ask the AI you keep pitching and supporting to comment for you? Oops. There go your jobs, struck down by the Salesforce. ‘Not impressive. ‘Most non-triumphant.]
So, I’m telling all of you commentators to back off and “slow your roll.” I don’t care what financial pressure is on your back. You tell your bosses to back off, too. Show these laboring athletes more respect. Because, if you don’t, you can dig out your fat wallets and purses and pay the medical bills of the people you hurt with your impatience and carelessness…and those annoying repetitive questions! Athletes shouldn’t have to invest in bug repellant to get rid of mosquitoes like you. Lindsey Vonn shouldn’t be in commercials for sleep aids. [She should be soaking up the sun at some beach with me! Ha. The Password is…companionship.]
What about Colin Jost you say? Well, in short, I’m not a fan. I personally think he’s very self-centered and privileged. He won a lottery to sit (and stand) in Tahiti, where he makes light of everything and continues to seek the pity of women (and gay men), young and old, for his…mishaps. Sure, what he has to say is better than the repetitive and meticulous stuff other “pros” are saying, but that’s more sad than good. Give me a microphone, baggy shorts and some sandals; I’ll serve you similarly slick and more witty lines with a less polished image (I confess) and less focus on myself. I might know even less about events like surfing and do less research while humbly soaking up as much culture as I can. I’ll ask athletes questions that open up their hearts, make them laugh and dry their tears.
What about Snoop Dogg you say? Well, he sure got the golden ticket, the all-access pass. And, sure, he comes off as a nice, humble guy…in a way. But, the commentary that comes out of his mouth is sort of like the babbling you do when you’re in a dream. It doesn’t always make sense; so I can’t classify it as an interview or satisfying. It’s like watching a cook sample food someone else made during their cooking TV show; they can’t quite speak clearly with their mouth full of delight (if they aren’t lying through their wet lips). He just keeps vocalizing some sort of feeling about everything he has been so blessed to experience. The visuals he shares (with the cameras) are more pleasing than what he has to say. I’m honestly a little envious…until I see all of the other celebrities in attendance, and then I start to wonder exactly how much access has been given to wealthy and otherwise famous faces.
I feel like the 2024 Paris Olympics is a lavish party I failed to attend, and, even if I did attend, I wouldn’t be comfortable around so much wealth and fame. I’m not exactly the sort who gets excited about acquiring autographs and photos with people who don’t know me and don’t likely give a crap. This event is bigger than any Oscars or Emmys night, with more than one large building full of “big names.” I’ll just keep admiring the view of the Eiffel Tower from the beach-volleyball setting and forget what was bothering me for a while.
I’m Writingbolt. This isn’t my job. It’s a sort of habit.
Okay, judges. What’s my score? A 4.95 out of a possible 5? And, yet, I missed the podium by one hundredth of a point? I don’t get a medal? Well, @*$&* you. I didn’t really need a score or medal, anyway. If anyone’s looking for me, I’ll be at some Nice beachside cafe, listening to the surf and dousing my irritation in something saucy and sweet.