Toxic television
Last night I found myself in the lounge with the remote control in hand, with Orla having a bit of a breastfeeding marathon. So I thought I'd have a look around and see what Wednesday night television had to offer.
First up, I happened upon a reality tv show - Dr 90210, the life and times of Beverley Hills plastic surgeons. Cue gory surgery shots of tummy tuck and breast implants....
The woman having the operation was very pleased with her results. Her husband was, almost predictably, quite rotund himself (and not lining up for any nips and tucks). However, he seemed genuine in his pronouncement that he didn't care how she looked, so long as she was happy and felt good about herself. He tenderly kissed her as she recovered from surgery, and made positive remarks about her transformation. She drank in his appreciation.
Meanwhile, one of the doctor's wives had just had a biopsy on a breast lump - could it be cancer? She was attractive (as befits a plastic surgeon's wife), and rib-showingly thin (excepting her large, firm and rounded breasts, again as befits a plastic surgeon's wife). We watched as she sat on his knee in his surgery while he rang her doctor for the biopsy results. Wonderfully, all was clear. The surgeon wiped a tear from his eye as he proclaimed that this confirmed for him that the most important thing in his life was his wife and family. His wife glowed with happiness, and the incredible sense of relief that such good news must bring. But then, his cellphone rang. The patient was ready for him. He stood and walked out of the room, talking on the phone, shutting the door behind him. For just a moment, there was this look of confusion and loneliness in the wife's face. It was as if she was still processing the good news and dealing with that rush of emotions - but he was gone. But then, as she quickly turned to the camera crew, it was back to big California smiles. I wondered.
Next flick was to a CSI programme. I used to like these, especially the whodunnit aspect and the interesting forensic information. But I stopped watching due to the excessive, gratuitous gore. Sadly, this was no exception. Cue headless corpse dangling and dripping from the ceiling. Cue the almost inhuman lack of reaction to this by the CSI crew - hardened enough to crack silly jokes, their faces devoid of empathy or any real emotion. Taking it all in stride.
On to the next channel.
Lost was showing. This would probably have been interesting if I had watched more than the first episode way back when.
Happily, Orla was now finished and I could do something else. Thank goodness there's cricket on tomorrow night...
First up, I happened upon a reality tv show - Dr 90210, the life and times of Beverley Hills plastic surgeons. Cue gory surgery shots of tummy tuck and breast implants....
The woman having the operation was very pleased with her results. Her husband was, almost predictably, quite rotund himself (and not lining up for any nips and tucks). However, he seemed genuine in his pronouncement that he didn't care how she looked, so long as she was happy and felt good about herself. He tenderly kissed her as she recovered from surgery, and made positive remarks about her transformation. She drank in his appreciation.
Meanwhile, one of the doctor's wives had just had a biopsy on a breast lump - could it be cancer? She was attractive (as befits a plastic surgeon's wife), and rib-showingly thin (excepting her large, firm and rounded breasts, again as befits a plastic surgeon's wife). We watched as she sat on his knee in his surgery while he rang her doctor for the biopsy results. Wonderfully, all was clear. The surgeon wiped a tear from his eye as he proclaimed that this confirmed for him that the most important thing in his life was his wife and family. His wife glowed with happiness, and the incredible sense of relief that such good news must bring. But then, his cellphone rang. The patient was ready for him. He stood and walked out of the room, talking on the phone, shutting the door behind him. For just a moment, there was this look of confusion and loneliness in the wife's face. It was as if she was still processing the good news and dealing with that rush of emotions - but he was gone. But then, as she quickly turned to the camera crew, it was back to big California smiles. I wondered.
Next flick was to a CSI programme. I used to like these, especially the whodunnit aspect and the interesting forensic information. But I stopped watching due to the excessive, gratuitous gore. Sadly, this was no exception. Cue headless corpse dangling and dripping from the ceiling. Cue the almost inhuman lack of reaction to this by the CSI crew - hardened enough to crack silly jokes, their faces devoid of empathy or any real emotion. Taking it all in stride.
On to the next channel.
Lost was showing. This would probably have been interesting if I had watched more than the first episode way back when.
Happily, Orla was now finished and I could do something else. Thank goodness there's cricket on tomorrow night...
posted by Mary at 8:18 pm
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