Of Talk Show Kings and Queens
Every now and then, I will want to talk about a friend or acquaintance. In order to prevent them from being subjected to infamy by association, I will give them fictitious names á la The Millennium Girl (a boring read, by the way) like I did with Enchilada in some of my earliest posts. Having said that, allow me to introduce Blonde Moment, my co-worker, so named for her most common phrase: "I’m sorry; I must be having a blonde moment."
Today Blonde Moment and I rearranged some of the furniture in the office we share and stuck the stereo by the window. Like magic we were able to tune in more than static, and quite coincidentally, we happened across a television channel featuring talk shows.
Dr. Phil, to be more exact. Anyone ever heard of him? Apparently it’s the start of a new season, and Dr. Phil’s goal is to change America one city at a time, one family at a time. His first project is the town of Elgin right here in Texas. At the start of the broadcast, one young Elgin girl told of widespread public sex on her high school campus, rampant drug abuse, and gang rape. Adults cited high spikes in divorce rates, domestic violence, and racism – y’know, just your typical small Texas town, except for around here. We also have lots of child molestation and infant abandonment.
Dr. Phil was tough, practical, and quick to get to the root of the problem featured in today’s episode: a middle-class couple steeped in years of her infidelity and his physical abuse. As much as I admire Dr. Phil’s intentions, I didn’t agree with his methods of little but straight talk and counseling. The only time I’ve ever seen lives permanently changed was when God changed the people themselves. Dr. Phil seems to be on a mission to save the world without enlisting very much divine help. I wish him the best of luck, but I don’t have much hope for his endeavor.
Immediately following Dr. Phil, Oprah gave away a brand new car to every member of her audience, all 276 of them. To celebrate her 19th season, she’s granting the wildest dreams of selected viewers, and there’s still time to get in on the action if you want. Blonde Moment, who must think she’s a comedian, said she’s going to write in and see if Oprah will find me a hunk.
"Oh, puh-leeze," I scoffed. "Gimme a break. Let’s talk money or a house, but a hunk is the last thing I need."
I mean, for Pete’s sake, he’d have to at least be an Apostolic hunk . . .
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E-mail them to wscoggins@ninetyandnine.com.
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