Okay, this is the fourth time. Three times before, I have written about “reality” television. And as regular readers know: I hate it and will not willingly watch it. But before we get to all that, let’s address the elephant in the room.
Phil Robertson said some hateful, but extremely typical, Christian things about our gay friends and family members. Just like I wrote about in The Sad Reality of Duck Dynasty, I don’t believe anything these people do or say. In that article, I was reacting to Phil Robertson’s complaints that the “editors” of the show were making it sound like the family were more foul mouthed than they are. Also, he was unhappy about the “editors” cutting out parts of their prayers. As I pointed out, Phil clearly understood the situation. He couldn’t complain about the producers (who were telling the editors what to do), because he’s surrounded by the producers. So he couldn’t reasonably complain about them without doing something like, you know, ending the show. So I have little doubt that Phil’s anti-gay comments to GQ were known about ahead of time by the producers of the show. Phil will be back on as soon as possible and it will all be great for the ratings.
So who, in the end, gives a quarter of a shit about what Phil Robertson thinks about anything? Unfortunately, many millions of people. It doesn’t matter that when the Writers’ Guild of America went on strike, all (All!) the reality shows had to be put on hold. It doesn’t matter that by this time, even a child can see the cliches that riddle “reality” television. Or any of the many scandals that prove just how unreal the whole genre is. People want to believe. And with Duck Dynasty, the wish to believe is on a whole higher level. Because these are “authentic” people who have good “Christian” beliefs. And they’re rich! American Christians really want to believe all that can go together.
By the time the real scandals start to break, the show will be on the decline anyway. I’m sure there’s some infidelity going on. Let’s face it: what keeps most men faithful is the lack of women who want them. And in this family, I wouldn’t even be surprised to see some Brian Earl Schwanke kind of pedophilia. But mostly, as I’ve noted before: this is just a very rich family that inherited the business and the money from daddy. And that’s why I was so interested to see CultOfDusty’s video, Duck Dynasty Is Fake! In it, he provides photos of all the family members before the show. And what do you know? No long beards! They just look like the rich white assholes they are.
Take a moment to think about that. Really, this is important. The beards? The camouflage clothing? That is make-up and costume design. If the make-up union or the costume designers union went on strike, Duck Dynasty would have to stop production. They are in costume! So look, like I said, I don’t give a quarter of a shit about these rich assholes and their weekly business advertisements. But if any of you out there think that they are any different than the Romney family, you’re totally wrong. Growing the long beards and dressing like hicks was part of their business strategy. And if you are a Christian who believes in this “family as commodity,” then you are lost to God and humanity.
But watch this video because it is fucking brilliant:

I’m feeling a bit better today. And trends are all that really matter, you know? I mean, there is no such thing as absolute happiness; there is just relative happiness. And relative to the last couple of days, I’m flying high. And by that, I mean I don’t want to crawl under the bed. And that means, writing today’s birthday post is a lot more fun. Of course, the winner today (That’s her on the left; ain’t she cute?) is a singer of sad songs who had a sad life. But she is also one of my very favorite singers. So there’s that.
Yesterday, Paul Krugman wrote something that allows me to discuss a long held theory of mine. He was writing about how the United Kingdom’s economy is finally starting to improve,
I don’t know how other people dream. I figure it is like most of my dreams that are just some other reality—kind of a jumble of stories. But sometimes, my dreams become like puzzles. When I was in college, before a math or physics exam, my mind would be a chaotic stream of ideas. It was like my brain was a computer trying various permutations. These nights were not, to say the least, restful. But I suspect they were useful.