The Best the OC has to Offer?

We don’t watch a lot of Tube on the Balcony. Incessant Tube chatter drives the Proprietor mad, makes him irascible, and somewhat dangerous; he’s been known to throw empty beer cans at the screen, particularly when he sees the ghostly image of George W. Bush or Deadeye Dick Cheney. “War criminals!” he screams. “Asshole-motherfucking-shithead-bastards.”

It can get pretty ugly. American Tube fare mirrors the emptiness and vacuity of the nation. The average, unthinking, moronic American is captivated by crap. Just last evening the Proprietor, after reading the latest edition of the Nation (depressing news about inequality and official indifference to the rule of law, genocide in Africa, etc.,) was channel-surfing in search of Mexican League baseball or highlights from Spring Training, when he happened upon the Real Housewives of Orange County on BRAVO. Within twenty seconds he was muttering, “Sweet mother of Jesus, what the Hell is this?” His instinct for self-preservation told him to switch the Tube off and flee, but his feet disobeyed his brain and his eyes remained fixed on the absurd, pointless spectacle.

Orange County? Since when does anyone give a fuck about Orange County? And if these shit-for-brains women are the best the OC has to offer, if they are the poster ladies for the good life, then we are doomed to stand outside the Gates of Hell with our brains on fire. Talk about taking the trivial to a new level! Word up, OC housewives: excessive use of Silicon and Botox and hair care products can stunt your intellectual growth and turn you into a pathetic excuse for a human being. Your daily comings and goings are simply not that interesting, and filming them doesn’t make them more dramatic or arresting. Should I brush my teeth or take a crap? Wow! Should I shop at Nieman Marcus or the GAP? Corn flakes or granola? Should I get a Brazilian or have my asshole bleached – or both?

Up in Heaven, in a dark corner of the All Saints Bar & Grill, Charles Bukowski is laughing, Henry Miller is saying “I told you so,” and Hunter S. Thompson is filling a bong and placing a bet on the Knicks-Pacers game.