Dad of the year!
First of all, can I just point your attention to last Friday’s edition of the pac.com blog, in which the author proposed, with no evidence and yet a healthy gut feeling: “…if you’re not sensing another shoe in mid-air, and heading south, then you’re either not as cynical as me or else you’re not paying attention.”
So who, media people, is your daddy now?
Not me, maybe. But at least it’s not Richard Heene. For whom I suggest we skip right past the contempt stage and head directly to pity. Because we love victims, and in this case I’m thinking that the real victim in this child-manipulating/media-manipulating/FAA manipulating/panic inducing scam is, in fact, the alleged perp himself.
In short: this one is society’s fault.
Because Richard, who we will resist referring to as Dick even though it’s just extremely tempting, is only a product of our media-saturated media. Which has grown so accustomed to rewarding all of its best goods and services to the account of anyone/everyone who is willing to do and/or say anything to get them (see also: Beck, Glenn; Palin, Sarah; Moore, Michael; Plus Eight, Jon and Kate; Kardashians, the; everyone who appears on virtually every reality show aired over the last, oh I don’t know, decade or so, and etc.) .
Face it: In 21st century America the race goes to the shameless.
Climb on your own faux UFO and follow the jump for more. . .
Which, let’s also face this meta-fact, kind of explains the existence of pac.com, plus the endless self-promotion I will be engaging in virtually non-stop, whether anyone likes it or not, regarding a certain Paul McCartney bio, until it either shifts massive units or else someone actually duct tapes my fingers together and/or shuts me up.
So Richard Heene dragged his family on “Wife Swap.” Liked what happened there, and decided to go for the gold and pitched himself and family as the subjects of their own wanted a reality show. Conducted pitches. Was passed upon. Decided that wasn’t anything close to acceptable, and figured out another way to grab for the gold ring. Hid the kid. Released the phony UFO. Called for help – okay, just a few ticks after he’d called the media. Priorities, you know. The media came running and a day-long horror show-turned-heartwarming-family drama ensued.
And now I’m writing this and you’re reading it and so voila. It worked a treat!
But wait. He fooled us! He dragooned his own kid into the scam! Worse, he manipulated the media – which could have spent the day talking nonstop about Michael Jackson’s hair, say, or something interesting about Jet Travolta’s brain tissue, or whatever. And we are so very, very upset.
Possibly because we deserved it. Because a society that so gleefully and endlessly obsesses over such nonsense – as opposed to, say, solving its health care problems – deserves what it gets.
So I say: Richard Heene SHOULD have a reality show. A “Truman Show” style docu-oddity about one normal man’s bizarro journey through a media world full of amoral scammers and sub-Barnum types who care nothing about how their quirky moral codes affect the people who get sucked into their fun machines.
Just imagine the fun: Richard hatches silly reality show ideas, creates media stunts to gain attention; takes meetings with adoring network chiefs and becomes a demi-celebrity! Only then gets found out, and segues into the anti-hero of a real-life legal drama! Gets a lawyer/media pro to defend and explain his actions; rides the celebrity wave even further; heads to the clubs with Kim Kardashian and her LA Laker hubby of 72 hours!; appears on the Surviving Jackson Brothers’ new variety show; (We love you, Michael!); and on and on and on.
Do you doubt this could be the greatest reality show ever? You shouldn’t. Because what we’re talking here is apotheosis: In which Falcon and friends don’t just fly close to the sun – they zoom right over the bastard and keep right on going.