I don’t remember ever watching “The Apprentice.” Although it (allegedly) was a successful “reality” TV show, it was not something that appealed to me. The characters must have all been consenting adults, for the recorded part anyway. It seemed that the theme song probably summed up the plot accurately. I hope the O’Jays got their “For the Love of Money’ royalties.
Now the main character from that fictional construct has, facilitated by the TV et. al, somehow risen to an influential position in real reality. If you would like a theme song that explains how we got here, you might check out “I’m The Slime” by the Mothers of Invention. They were edgy in their day, but Frank Zappa’s insights on broadcasting are kinda prophetic.
The result of all this is that I now have self-diagnosed myself with CTFS — Chronic Trump Fatigue Syndrome. He is not the only cause, but he is patient No. 1. If you try to be a concerned citizen by staying informed on current events, the guy is nearly unavoidable. He tweets and something spreads from his fingers to the newspapers, the radio, the internet and especially the 24/7/365 tube. It is awful and embarrassing, a social media disease. The condition may persist indefinitely. There is only a slim chance for near-term relief.
The last lines of a Stephen Sondheim song sum up where we are (and complete the 1973 musical reference trifecta!). ”Quick, send in the clowns. Don’t bother, they’re here.”
We’re going to need a lot of big red noses. Think about it.
I’m really ready for a dose of the Mr. Rodgers movie.
Rich O’Donnell, Redlands