For proof all you have to do is manage to watch an episode of "Dancing With The Stars." I was able to do just that the other night. After sitting through an entire evening with the show, I understand why it has become so popular. It is very glitzy. The female outfits are tiny and growing tinier. There is always the chance that a stray nipple or two will pop out, thereby fueling two or three days of media blitz. The judges are alternately fatuous and downright nasty. The host seems extremely pleased with himself. And the contestants all seem to have moving human interests stories to tell.
Even though this was the first show I have watched from beginning to end, I have seen a few snippets from other episodes. In the backstage glimpses the audience is privy to, you can always count on at least one star breaking down in tears under the intense pressure of hours of rehearsal. Of course one of the reasons the star might be crying is the realization that he or she has the time for hours of rehearsal because no one else in show business will give him a job. There are lots of scenes of grateful stars shouting the praises of their pro dancer partner.
And the audience and judges get misty eyed over the whole thing. There was Chaz Bono being showcased the other night. The camera showed him sweating away during rehearsals. He laughed a little. He cried a few times. He and his partner talked about his sex change operation and the controversy over him offering young viewers a bad role model by appearing on the show. What he didn't do was anything resembling dancing.
Sitting there watching everyone in the studio react to the video as if they were part of some special moment was disconcerting. And Cher was there, standing, wiping tears from her grotesquely over-made face, as if this stuff mattered to anyone beyond this audience desperate for something to feel good about.
The whole idea of Chaz Bono's decision to have a sex change operation and then top it off by an appearance on "Dancing With The Stars" being somehow courageous grabbed me on the same level that throwing a hot dog at Tiger Woods is courageous. Personally, I think the most courageous thing about having a sex change operation is coming to grips with the fact that you will have to spend more than one night in Trinidad. But I am being flip. I just don't see what the big deal is. If you want to talk courage let's talk about the guy who was trapped on the mountain and cut his arm off with his pocket knife. Of course, he does lose points for using it as a kind of publicity stunt. If you want and need a sex change, be my guest. If you want me to think it courageous, grab a pocket knife and head for the mountains. You might want to think about selling the film rights before you leave.
So anyway, I was looking at all of this and realizing that these people are registered voters. Well, some of them. These same folks who are crying over Chaz Bono's existential choice and craning their necks to catch sight of Cher, will be asked to make informed decisions at the polls. They are the same people who pollsters call up in order to publish more contradictory results. I wonder how many of them have strong opinions based on nothing. Jobs Bill? The Affordable Health Care Act? Tea Party? Rick Perry? Michelle Bachman? Mitt Romney? Kenyan? Mormon? Socialist? Fascist? Job Producers? FLOTUS at Target? Illegal Aliens? All of this stuff pales next to Chaz' sexuality.
I read an article in The New York Review of Books a year ago focusing on the build up in Afghanistan. In the middle of reading it I finally came to the realization that one of the main reasons for the quagmire there is that we are dealing with a population overwhelmingly young, male, and illiterate. Expecting the typical Afghan to understand our presence there is like expecting a ninth grade boy to understand anything beyond his immediate urges. The best thing to do is lock them all in a large closet and wait for them to turn twenty-one.
I'm rooting for the people camping out on Wall Street and around the country. But unless they can stage some kind of contest that requires skimpy outfits and acts of media induced courage, I don't see how they will make much of a dent on our nation's consciousness. On the other hand, I did find some hope in what has happened recently in Colombia. The women in the town of Barbacoas, fed up with authorities' lack of action, announced last June that they would withhold sex from their partners until the 35 mile road connecting them to the region's capital got paved. Army engineers started the paving job yesterday.
I predict there will be a major revival in productions of Lysistrata this theater season.
