Lemon Chicken, Pissing and Freedom

Opposition to the horrifying, Kafka-style catastrophe that is Guantanamo Bay is finally getting some ink. So why is everybody so fixated on the accommodations?

A few months ago outrage surged when it was reported that interrogators flushed a Koran down a toilet. The Pentagon later clarified that no such flushing had occurred, some guy just pissed on one a little. Then about a week ago, Rep. Duncan Hunter tried to refute all allegations of torture by revealing to the world that lemon chicken is on the detainee menu.

If you are taken from your family in secret and held without being charged, does it really matter what you're eating or who's pissing on what? I would have thought this point was obvious, but most news reports on the issue seem to shift quickly into a lifestyle piece on a day in the life of a detainee.

I've heard at least two dozen pundits debate what constitutes torture (usually it's agreed to be somewhere between an uncomfortable chair and a kick in the nuts). That's an interesting conversation to toss around the old water cooler, but it's not even relevant here. Taking a prisoner without any charge and denying them access to the outside world is a human rights violation on an even higher order than torture.

Why this obsession with how the other half (detainees) live? Is there really some guy eating Chef Boyardee out of the can who hears these prisoners are eating lemon chicken and thinks "the bastards, lock 'em up forever"? Unfortunately, I'm sure that there is. People make the same gripes about our home grown felons. How many times have you heard some yahoo complain that those guys down at the prison have cable TV? When I toured the new jail in Glendale, they told me the TVs helped keep the inmates calm and less likely to stab the guards. That seemed like a pretty good reason to me.

If you're locked up, it doesn't really matter which channels you get or what's on the dinner menu.

Save Public Broadcasting (a rational approach)

We've all seen that damn "Save Public Broadcasting and Sesame Street" e-mail that's been floating around for years - usually sent by the same jackass who thinks Bill Gates will give them a hundred bucks for nothing. But last week, a proposal surfaced in the House of Representatives seeking to cut federal funding for public broadcasting by 45%.

Now is the time for right-minded citizens to take action. I strongly recommend checking the website of your local NPR affiliate and doing whatever they suggest. KPCC, my own local station, suggests the old write your Congressman routine. They provide a sample letter and a link to find your Representative, so even if you're outside of SoCal you might want to check it out.

There are several petitions floating around, but given the history of fraudulent "Save Sesame Street" spam, I recommend against signing these. If you are devoted to the petition approach, the most legitimate option I'm aware of comes from MoveOn.org.

While I realize it's not in the spirit of a rally, I think it's important to bring some clarity to this issue of federal funding for public broadcasting. Proponents of cuts to federal funding point out that Washington provides only 15% of the total budget for public radio and television. So despite what certain e-mails might say, the proposed cuts would be unlikely to send Big Bird and Ira Glass directly to the unemployment line. But that doesn't mean the cuts are justified or that nobody would be adversely effected.

Broadcasters in small markets could be eliminated altogether, because they are unable to raise as much revenue through fund drives as their big city peers. Just within the last year, the PBS affiliate in not-exactly-small market Orange County was nearly sold to a big money Christian broadcaster because of financial difficulty. It was saved at the eleventh hour by a band of business folks who recognized the value of public broadcasting.

The dedication of public broadcasting listeners/viewers should not be used to justify reducing federal funds. The fact that NPR in particular can raise such a large percentage of its operating budget is a testament to the fact that it is the single best source for non-commercial news. In an era when most people would rather just reaffirm their views with Fox News or Air America, it's important to reaffirm the value of federally supported broadcasting with a singular focus on serving the public interest.

The reputation of NPR and PBS have taken unfair shots lately from Kenneth Tomlinson, the right-wing President of the Corporation for Public Broadcasting. He accused both of a liberal bias, despite recent (and historical) research which suggests the reporting is incredibly balanced. Network news is nothing more than another arm in the worldwide branding strategy of large media companies. The core value of publicly funded broadcasting is that it will never skew its reporting to prop up the parent company's summer blockbuster.

The proposed cuts were debated in sub-committee today and could be considered by the full House next week, so now's the time to get involved.

Shoot Me Baby One More Time

I consider myself somewhat of a connoisseur of trash, camp and schlock. But like anything else worth enjoying, the realm of camp has been invaded by the rumbling hordes of mass culture. The result? Between "The Surreal Life" and a Def Lepard comeback tour, it takes a Ph.D. in cultural studies to sort out what’s deliciously trashy and what’s just plain shit.

But last week I found something that got all my guilty pleasure sensors tingling. I’m talking about Hit Me Baby One More Time.

The show digs up a handful of washed up bands to compete against each other each week. In the first half-hour, they each play their one hit song. In the last half-hour, each group returns to perform a cover version of some of the worst Top 40 garbage you can imagine.

Now, I realize this sounds like nothing more than a variation on the American Idol theme. I understand that concern. I don’t think it’s possible to revel in the type of trashiness that is American Idol. With it’s corporate sheen, raging popularity and unironic self-importance, watching American Idol is like eating a Big Mac at a Wal-Mart food court. Trust me – Hit Me Baby One More Time is an entirely different animal.

The real beauty of the show is how it tiptoes the line between loving tribute and the macabre freak show it really is. It’s a long tradition of the game/reality show that ordinary people play for money, celebrities play for charity. To avoid insulting their one-time celebrity, the winnings are donated to charity – but it looked to me like Flock of Seagulls could use a few bucks themselves. And isn’t that what makes a show like this great? There’s something transcendent about watching a group of fat, bald 40-somethings slog through the same chords they’ve played 10,000 times before. I’m not kidding – I actually caught myself looking around the stage for a gong.

In the Seagulls brief video diary, their lead singer/keyboardist (don’t see that one anymore) said his new wife "just thinks it’s cool to be married to someone in a band." She had that stringy haired, queen of the trailer court look that one finds well down the groupie food chain. It was enough to scare any 16-year-old with a new guitar off rock n’ roll for good.

Even more enjoyable are the brief interviews with the show’s host, whose British accent even sounds like a ruse. The best moment from week one was when he asked Tiffany her advice for up-and-coming young singers. How could this show be watched with anything but a sense of ironic detachment?

And in yet another horrifying/hilarious comment on our attention span, the bands don’t even perform all of their three-minute hit singles. How’s that for a tribute to the hit makers of yore? "Yeah, uh, Loverboy, we can’t let you play all of the one song you do well so we have time for you to play half of some turd by Faith Hill."

I’m sure some will read this and think it’s not a very classy way to spend an evening. It’s not. Let me reiterate – I like trash. If I was advocating classy entertainment, I would have started this with "I was re-reading Finnegan’s Wake last week..." But if a group of "musicians" want to put on spandex pants and ride the wave of one Top 40 hit, I think being trotted back into the limelight for my amusement is a small price to pay.

And God bless Hit Me Baby One More Time for giving us that amusement.