Calling All Quicksand
A recurring question readers ask is, When will I appear on TV -- Maddow, Olbermann, Maher, Stewart -- and rave on camera as I do in this humble space? For some reason, a number of you assume I'd be an entertaining diversion, a different flavor from the standard fare. There was a time when I did do this, when I truly desired a spotlight. That urge has faded steadily as I age, and while I recently discussed with Maher's producer the possibility of me appearing on "Real Time," I honestly don't see it happening.
There are several reasons for this, the most obvious being that chat show producers don't want my opinions fouling their programs. I accept this, for that's probably what would happen. Another obvious reason is that I'm not well-known, which added to my opinions makes me even less desirable to bookers. Of course, many political bloggers do get air time, but they're usually allied with the corporate parties, and are well-versed in prearranged discussion points, making everyone's job easier. Then again, I'm not really a political blogger, not as it's generally understood, and I'm becoming less and less of one. That's a good thing.
Oh, I'll kvetch about current conditions, to the degree that I'm stirred, anyway. But my interests are changing, perhaps de-evolving, whatever that might mean. The ceaseless diatribes blasting from our screens are meaningless to me, and I'm confused as to why anyone would voluntarily endure it, much less want to participate. Professional advancement is the only rational angle I can see, yet even there, some confusion remains. When Chomsky told me ages ago that he wanted to no part of mainstream media, and didn't even watch it, I thought he was posing. I worked with a group that continually tried to get Noam on the air, believing that everyone wanted exposure, including me. Now I see what Noam was talking about.
A local reader has kindly offered to upload a bunch of old videos of me arguing politics on TV, something I hope to do this week. Should this happen, you'll soon see a much younger me yapping with the rest of the pack, suit, tie, combed hair, clean-shaven face. I really want to share my C-SPAN appearance when I was massively hung-over, a huge zit on my forehead, plowing through my points while the host turned her nose away from me, no doubt sickened by the booze stench rising from my pores. That was one of the longest hours of my life, captured on videotape for posterity, or until C-SPAN tapes a Senate hearing on sewage reform over it.