The Clownification of America

"We've turned into this nation of overfed clowns, riding around in clown cars, eating clown food, watching clown shows. We've become a nation of cringing, craven fuckups." --James Howard Kunstler, author of "The Long Emergency"

When I saw this Kunstler quote a couple of weeks ago, I thought it a bit harsh. Then I picked up my morning paper -- and, all at once, I got it.

There, in 120-point bold headline type, above the fold, the lead story of the day, was the "news" that: In less than 24 hours, singer Taylor Hicks would battle singer Katharine McPhee for the title of American Idol!

Clowns. We have indeed become a nation of frivolous, self-indulgent, overweight, undereducated, unserious, clowns. When an event of such monumental unimportance wins precious front-page status, what other conclusion can be reached?

Art has stopped imitating life and simply become a substitute for it. I flashed back to the 1967 cult TV series "The Prisoner," starring Patrick McGoohan -- a British spy kidnapped and imprisoned on an island with an Orwellian-like society. Each morning radios, newspapers and speakers announced it was "another wonderful day on the island." Every day was another wonderful day. There never was a bad day -- never mind that everyone on the island was a prisoner.

And so it has come to pass on our island, where the papers, radios and televisions no longer differentiate between news and entertainment. Where "American Idol" finals get page 1 treatment and genocide in Darfur is pushed deep inside the paper in the shadow of a 1/2-page Best Buy ad trumpeting a sale on iPod accessories.

Oh, lighten up Pizzo! People need entertainment as much as they need to know about all the bad news out there.

Yeah, fine. But let's keep the entertainment news in the entertainment section of the paper where it belongs. Can we do that? Oh, and keep the sports news on the sports page as well. The only time I want to see the name "Barry Bonds," in the news section of the paper is if major league baseball ever kicks his cheating ass out of the game. Or if he robs a bank. Or if George Bush appoints Barry head of the FDA. Otherwise, keep him and all other baseball-relating "news" where it belongs … in the sports section.

And, unless the losing singer on "American Idol" pulls a gun and opens fire after hearing the verdict, everything else about that show belongs in the entertainment section and NOT on my front page. The same rules apply to everyone and anyone whose only claim to fame is that they sing, dance, submerge themselves in a Plexiglas globe, eat the most hot dogs in the shortest time or own a cute dog that fetches beer on command.

None of that is news. Not one word, factoid or photo-op of it is news.

It's not as if there was not real news the day "American Idol" found its way onto my front page. During that same news cycle almost anything that happened in Iraq was more important, as were the doings that day on Capitol Hill, at the White House, the Pentagon, the State Department or in Iran. On the day my paper put "American Idol" above the fold on the front page, the editors could have thrown a dart at that list of the above newsmakers and found a story more worthy of the front page.

Who wins or loses on "American Idol" may send a few thousand teenage girls squealing off in tears, but that's about the extent of the damage. On the other hand, we live in extraordinarily dangerous times. A convergence of economic, geopolitical and environmental challenges confront the human race … any one of which could tomorrow trigger a series of events that would turn all our lives inside out.

So, news editors everywhere, let's get back to treating the front page as the sacred trust it is -- the place reserved for the most important news we need to know that day in order to exercise our responsibilities as citizens and members of the human race.