Note: The diary entry below was actually started last night, but I didn’t quite finish it, and trying to recapture the moment to give it that extra punch has so far alluded me. This is due to the fact that a student of mine, at my day job of course, decided to have a complete meltdown this morning by attacking me (kicking, screaming, yanking several strands of hair out of my head, etc.), which forced me into using physical restraints to help transport this student back to a mental institution. I’m not kidding. So, forgive me if it appears to run out of steam. But I’m fried. More on all of this after I recover from the injuries with a few good days and nights of heavy drinking.


Okay, it’s Sunday night, and I’m doing what I usually do before having to face another week of working in day job hell: I’M WATCHING TELEVISION. It’s the perfect lobotomy.

Now, normally, I just surf around and pause on whatever looks interesting. Usually, that means stopping to watch the History Channel, Turner Classic Movies (TCM), A&E or, if I’m feeling particularly horny and desperate, anything on E! or VHI. Luckily this month on TCM, they’re showcasing the movies of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, so I at least have something to look forward to every weekend. These guys made great films, and I was fortunate enough to catch one of their best, A Matter of Life and Death starring David Niven. If you haven’t seen this film, I urge you to check it out as soon as possible. It’s known mostly in America under the title, “Stairway to Heaven” but, unfortunately, since most of you probably rent from Blockbuster (the bane of quality cinema), you probably won’t be able to find it.

But I digress…

I was enjoying my two hours of escapism when, suddenly, my wife enters the room and asks if we can watch the Emmys. I hadn’t realized the Emmys were on tonight and, to be honest, the idea of watching the award show made me nauseous. So, I thought about it for a moment, then threw up. Not that the artists don’t deserve their accolades, it’s just that I have a hard time watching them while it all happens. That, and all the insipid and superficial stuff surrounding the event. I think you know what I’m talking about. Joan, what happened? You used to be funny back in the day.

I don’t know why it is that so many of the losers of the world (most of us) like to sit around watching the winners of the world (few of them) congratulate themselves on winning. It’s like some kind of mass masochism wherein all the losers sit around their television sets and fool themselves into thinking they’re actually winners by projecting themselves vicariously into the spectacle itself. Now repeat that sentence three times. I guess it’s the same thing in sports. Fans identifying themselves so closely with their team that they trick themselves into actually believing they’re a part of it. We are a silly lot.

I think what bothers me the most is that our culture has become, for lack of a better word, dumb. We’re a nation of self-indulgent idiots who spend the better part of our lives worshipping mediocrity. We’re literally amusing ourselves to death and, quite frankly, the art and entertainment we’re doing it with is just plain boring. I guess we’re all lobotomized to some extent.