If I Were a Child Actor, I’d be Billy Mumy

Fortunately my long absence hasn’t been due to a deep-space screw-up by Dr. Smith. Of course I don’t have a robot sidekick to hang out with either, and goodness knows there isn’t a tech geek that wouldn’t love to have one of those.

So it probably goes without saying that I’ve been busy. Busy busy busy. But it’s been a good busy, and I’ve been having very positive things happen in my life. Let me recap what has been the best thing to happen to me in a while…

In Columbus we have this great thing called Skybus. If you’ve never heard of it, it’s a discount airline that sells seats for as little as $10 each way. My mom and I had scored some of those really cheap seats to go visit my brother while he was doing an internship at Microsoft last year, and so when a new block of seats went on sale last September I determined that I would grab a cheap seat for a trip to Los Angeles. In January. Yep, I booked five months in advance for a trip out west just because it was exceedingly cheap.

So fast-forward to January and I nearly cancelled my trip because I didn’t have any real plans for anything to do out there, and since the ticket had been so cheap it didn’t really matter. But something just wouldn’t let me do it. A little something in me kept saying I should take the trip, and a family that used to live in our area found out I was headed their direction and invited me to stay with them. Free room and board, so I was set.

Meanwhile, around Christmas I had joined eHarmony. It was like a switch flipped in me and I was ready to journey into the world of experimental non-singleness again. Sure, I’d dipped my toe in the water a couple times over the past few years, but with only mixed success. I liked eHarmony though, and how it handled matches and so forth. Very much more a service, rather than feeling like I was hanging out in an online bar trying to attract people with pithy comments.

So yeah, I met someone on there. Several someones actually, but one of them in particular I was being a bit more chatty with. She lived in Las Vegas, but I really wasn’t minding because retty much everyone I was matching with was in and around the Utah area. Limiting yourself to “only Latter-Day Saints” seems to do that. Then a couple days before heading out to L.A. on my little excursion I got a lesson in west coast geography and learned that L.A. and Vegas really aren’t all that far apart. So I dropped a quick note about how I was flying out there in two days and if she was interested it might be fun to get together somewhere.

Get together we did, and had a nice time, if not slightly overwhelming. The other Mormon’s in the room will be the one’s to appreciate this, but because of a previously scheduled ward outing, I wound up being invited to join in a trip up to the Vegas temple. To do sealings. For a first date. Everyone assumed we were married, which was only slightly awkward (a lot) but we both had a good sense of humor about it. Then we had dinner with her one sister and brother-in-law that also live in Vegas, whose house I then crashed at for the night. In the morning her brother-in-law invited me to help with an Elder’s quorum move, so I went. Why not? It was just all kind of surreal, so I was just going with it.

And the weird thing was that, though it all caught me a bit off guard, I like it. Most guys in that situation would have found a door as quick as they could, never looked back, and never called again. And while I did eventually excuse myself back to L.A. later that day and got my head around what an over-the-top first date it all was, I was by no means wanting to pretend it never happened and close that chapter.

We’ve talked since then. A lot. Every day or two, for hours at a time. She’s visited out here since then. My kids love her, and so does my family. I’m headed out there in a couple weeks to meet more of hers. Probably in shifts since she’s one of sixteen kids, which is nearly impossible for me to fathom. The thought of one person having that many kids makes my uterus scream in anguish, and I’m a guy. Guys don’t have a uterus after all, and yet somehow I have one in phantom form that’s just screaming at the top of its lungs. Go figure. But from what I’ve gotten to know of her family so far it obvioulsy has worked very well for them.

So I seem to be on a good path here. Someone I really get that really gets me, shares the same values, probably has more experience raising kids than me given that she’s number five of the Family von Trapp, and isn’t a closeted lesbian. Like I said, we’ve been talking a lot, which accounts for me not being around here much. Hard to type up an entry when you’re on the phone until midnight since the other person is three hours behind.

All in all I’m feeling pretty good with things. There are some other things brewing too, but I can cover those later. No midnight calls tonight, but I do need to get some catching-up sleep from the others I’ve had recently.

Being Careful What You Wish For

My brother “gave” me my Christmas present this evening. Not a present really, other than that of time, but that’s good too.

He had told me on Christmas day that he wanted to watch something in particular with me. Something that we, as brothers, could bond over.

What he didn’t realize, and I couldn’t have forseen, was that he gifted me with my warm-down lap I was complaining about the other day.

“How so?” you might ask. Simple. He had located the Star Wars Holiday Special, in its unholy entirety, online. This show is a thing of myth. Legendary in its fecal prowess. The kind of thing that prisoners in Guantanamo are subjected to when waterboarding doesn’t prove to be successful.

In short, it’s a painful piece of dreck that George Lucas wishes had never been produced. And with good reason.

Feel free to watch the first few minutes (or the whole thing if you’re a masochist), and keep in mind that the breakneck pacing in the first 10 minutes is kept up throughout the whole of the show.

For those of you also requiring a holiday warm-down lap, enjoy!

Even The Wannabes Get A Warm-Down Lap

A couple weeks away from the blog again. It’s been the end run for Hallowchristmagiving, and it’s been busy. Work parties, making cheesecake to take to said parties, buying gifts, etc. etc. etc. All the good and great stuff we all love to do, but that really winds up meaning I don’t have much time in the evenings to sit and put thoughts up for public consumption.

And then, suddenly — abruptly even — it is all over.

I didn’t want it to be all over. I wasn’t ready for it to be over. I was enjoying it too much. I had a great time with my kids and my extended family. I kept to a good budget but still wound up being super-dad in the gifting department. I enjoyed everything about the season this year, the entire way through. And I wasn’t lonely, even when I was alone. This was my third Christmas as a single person, and it felt "normal".

So I was caught off guard when it ended so cleanly and surgically. I was at my parent’s with the kids, and stayed through the day after Christmas. Then I left the kids there to visit while I came back home to finish out the work week, and as I was pulling out of the driveway I turned on the radio to listen to Christmas music. And it wasn’t there. It wasn’t anywhere. Every station had stopped playing any music relating to the holiday season, and was back to a rotation that would have been considered lame thirty years ago.

The music has to stop at some point, I know. But consider when it started. I began driving my oldest daughter nuts a few days before Thanksgiving by listening to Christmas music. I loved it. Sure I’ve mocked the commercialism of the fourth-quarter retail money-grab for the past couple months. But I love all the rest of how this time of year makes me feel. The build-up was great! The subtle infiltration of holiday cheer and spirit into the nooks and crannies of my day-to-day life felt fantastic, and the big day itself was thoroughly enjoyable.

So being dropped like a rock is a bit of a stunner for me this year. And it doesn’t really help that nobody…and I mean nobody…in any stake or congregation in this area seems to have any plans for a New Year’s get together of any type. That’s when the official end of the season is supposed to be as far as I’m concerned, and instead it’s been cut off at the knees. Though I can admit to having some moderately high standards for New Year’s, as my all-time favorite was going to Time’s Square and meandering around Manhattan.

Sidebar: For some perspective on just how fun New Year’s in Manhattan is to do, consider this. I did that with my ex before we were divorced, but after she had started living the gay life and leaving me panicked and wondering why things were in such shambles. So it was so good that, even when life sucked and I felt like absolute hell, I still had a good time. Everyone should go do it sometime, and I fully intend to do it again someday, though preferably as part of the all-evening party in Bubba Gump’s Shrimp.

So I don’t feel like I’ve been allowed my cool-down lap after Christmas. Somebody flipped a switch somewhere and palpably turned everything off, and I’m just not reconciled with it yet.

As General Waverly in "White Christmas" would say, "Don’t just leave me standing here. How do I get off this stage?"

How Can She Be Saying Hello When She’s Showing Ta-Ta?

I keep saying I’m going to do this more than once a week, and yet here it is a week later. Again. Good thing I’m not trying to generate any ad revenue. Google would probably have me owing them money if I were. Not that they aren’t already selling my soul online one small piece at a time.

Side thought: If Google if mining me for information, should I feel guilty enough to talk to my bishop? I should probably just feel guilty for seeing innuendo in things like that. (heh)

Anywho…speaking of innuendo, this post’s title is loaded with it. I’ve had it in mind for a while now as I’ve held back this story for a bit. So the story goes something like this:

My oldest (the Model) has a cell phone on my dime. It makes it handy to get in touch with the kids since their mom doesn’t see fit to (a) have a home phone number and (b) ever answer her own cell phone when called. After a surprise bill one month thanks to the fine folks at "Joke-A-Day" though I disabled instant messaging and so forth on her phone. She knows not the vastness of her own power to inadvertently cost me $45 in a month without hardly trying.

At least, I thought I had completely disabled instant messaging on her phone. Perhaps I have. It’s kind of hard to say really. Because one evening she received a picture message from her mom, although because of the block she couldn’t see it. Instead she received a blurb telling her that she had one and needed to go to a web site from my carrier to view it.

When she received the notice I was on the main computer (yes, as in there are multiple) at home, so she asked if I could open the web site for her to see the message. I was happy to since I wanted a distraction from the side-project I was working on. So I type in the web address, punch in the code to access the message, and get…

A tight shot of a big-chested woman wearing a t-shirt that says "I (heart) You". And almost before I can realize it’s an animated image, and definitely before I can finish thinking "This won’t end well" off comes the shirt and a second of bouncing commences.

So there it is. My oldest daughter receives a booby-shot message from her mother. Her very overtly, "you need to love me no matter who I am", gay mother.

As fast as my fingers would move, I closed the web browser. But it was too late. It had been seen, and the damage was done. Reflexes, as those of us old enough to remember from WKRP, have their limits. And those limits can only be exceeded when alcohol is provided to Dr. Johnny Fever. I neither drink, nor am I Dr. Johnny Fever. So there it is.

Brakeback did tell me later that the message must have somehow sent by accident from her phone. It was definitely her message though, as a "friend" had sent it to her. My oldest immediately knew which friend that must be, who I shall simply refer to as "The Flake". That didn’t help her feel any better about it.

So the moral of the story is this: if you have friends that send you phone porn, make sure you keep your keypad locked so it doesn’t accidentally forward to your kids, or your boss, or someone else important that might form a negative opinion about you.

Or, better yet, just avoid phone porn altogether I guess.

First Life…Second Life…As Long As I Have One

Many, many days since last writing. Kanye went quiet after his mom’s unexpected death, so no new lyrics (though reportedly there will be a new batch for the impending second trimester celebration). Without that extra bump of energy, how can I be expected to keep up here when there’s been so much going on?

The biggest part of my free time has been taken up with Single Adults. Yes, I seem to have finally caught some kind of vision for the program. My vision is that what we have right now really does suck as bad as I’ve always said. But beyond that I also caught a vision for how it only sucks as long as I, and the other singles that could benefit from it, stay away.

Here’s a quick story. I am the SA rep in my ward pretty much for one reason: everybody else had already been asked and turned down the calling. Very "Night Court" really. So I’d be like Harry, except that I’m bald, which would be like Bull, but I’m not that tall and imposing. So at least I’m not Roz.

By the way, if you didn’t just get that whole reference then you’re probably too young for me. (Drattit)

So of course once you have a vision for something, you need to start acting on it. So I did. Lots of putting together mailers and e-mails. Lots of organizing contact information. And all culminating in helping put together a last-minute Thanksgiving dinner for any single adult in the area that wanted to come. We had about thirty people show up, so for something executed in five days we all felt pretty good about it.

The weekend continued to be good from there. Good college football (home team wins, beating the big-time rival), time with some friends, and some of my kids asking to go to church even while at their mom’s. Life has been good.

So why haven’t I been around here lately? I mean, besides being busy of course? Like all things, computer parts have a defect rate, and that rate caught up with me. Now, after paying for and installing a new motherboard things are better than ever.

So now both the first and second lives of Señor Monkey are right and good. Sweetness!

Sympathy for the Devil

Actually, the Stones song in Guitar Hero III is “Paint it Black”. I finally picked up an X-Box 360 the other day along with GH3. I’m giving it to the family (i.e. me and the kids) at Thanksgiving so everyone can play along with all the extended family. I had to break it all out and test it while the kids weren’t here though. Of course. Had to make sure everything was in working order and all. Good thing too, because the wireless guitar controller I originally got didn’t work, which was disappointing.

GH3 is an excellent game, with perhaps one exception. There’s a bit of a cartoony story line, and the rockers wind up on the wrong side of the devil. Typical rocker theme, for sure. Except the devil isn’t usually portayed as a fatter, sunglasses-wearing Wolverine wannabe. He just wasn’t an imposing devil figure.

But then what is the nature of the devil anyway? Or the origin of evil for that matter? I was driving to work last week and through some odd chain of thought or another my mind wound up on this track, along with one of those insights where a person has a bit of a smack-the-forehead “well of course that’s it” moment.

Another primer for the non-Mormons in the room. The Book of Mormon is a book of scripture we read in companionship with the Bible. Both are sacred scripture to us. And in one of the first books in the Book of Mormon, known as Second Nephi, is this bit of knowledge:

Wherefore, men are free according to the flesh ; and all things are given them which are expedient unto man. And they are free to choose liberty and eternal life , through the great Mediator of all men, or to choose captivity and death, according to the captivity and power of the devil; for he seeketh that all men might be miserable like unto himself.

Eternal life to us means much more than just living forever. It’s about living forever in the presence of God, with our families. Family is an intrinsic part  of salvation from our perspective. For me, an eternity without my children would really…well…suck. My “aha” moment started to come with a clarity on an emotional as well as cognitive level of just how badly my former mother-in-law had blown that all to hell for Brokeback’s entire family. That entire family turned away from the gospel and from God in general. They all determined that if God didn’t agree with their choices, then He must be wrong.

That brought about the second half of my “aha”, and an understanding of the nature of Satan that I hadn’t had before. The last part of that scripture reference says “might be miserable like unto himself”, and is something that I’d heard innumerable times since I was a kid. But the meaning of it finally hit home completely. Brokeback’s mom couldn’t admit that any of her kids were doing anything wrong. And what’s the one way to make yourself feel better about your position when you can’t admit that you’re wrong about it? Why, get others to agree with you, of course. If you have numbers on your side, then of course you must be right.

It’s a simple school-yard mentality really. If I can get enough people, especially key people, to agree with my position regadless of how cockamamy it may be, then I must be right. Everybody in Brokeback’s family bought into it, and I keep vigil with my kids to do my best to help keep them from being sucked in. But in the bigger perspective, that’s all Satan really is too. God kicked him out, and he just couldn’t admit he was wrong. It’s not that Satan spends him time saying “I’m going to go get people to commit some evil today, because evil is cool!” He’s just stewing over being wrong. Knowing deep down that he’s wrong. But being way, way too prideful to admit it to himself. And so instead he tries to get people to agree with him. Or at the very least to disagree with God’s position. Because then that, of course, would prove that he’s right.

Then again, he might pull some evil sometimes just because it’s fun. I just finished watching Dancing With The Stars, and one of the couples did a routine to The Cure’s “Why Can’t I Be You”. Sung by the house band. And an evil joke is the only explanation I can imagine to explain what I heard.

Hunting Sasquatch Without a Gun

It’s been ten days, and a do have a few stories to tell about. I was going to write a post exclusively about how cute and awesome all my kids were for the last day of the first trimester of Hallochristmagiving. But that is so last week now (literally). So suffice to say that they were all awesome, and it was hysterical to watch a whole crowd of kids streaming across someone’s half-acre front yard in costume. Looked like something out of one of my favorite movies, only less gruesome. So now that I’m out of my candy-induced coma, it’s time to get a little more current.

Time for another quick primer to bring those non-Mormons in the crowd. Our church is divided up similarly to other churches, but with slightly different names. Our congregations are called Wards, or in the case of small congregations Branches. A collection of Branches and Wards is called a Stake. Multiple Stakes comprise a region. All the regions together are the Church at large. Twice a year, each congregation has a special set of meetings called a conference. Same at the Stake and Church levels too. Got it? Good.

So today was Stake Conference in my area. Well, last night too, counting the Saturday evening session. At the Saturday evening session I wasn’t sure where I was going to sit. I walked in looking around for anyone I might know so I wouldn’t feel like a complete dork sitting by myself. This morning, no big deal. Walked in and there was a good friend with his wife and kids and an extra spot. But last night there were plenty of open spaces next to lots of people I just flat-out didn’t know. And then I spotted one with some members from the Single Adult committee. Saved, if not at least a bit uncomfortably so. One of the sisters on the committee might be referred to as “awkward”, “different”, or “at least mildly off-balance”.

Once I was settled in, it was a little easier to relax and just look around to see who else was there. And what I realized was that there were lots of single people. Though most were below the minimum threshhold set for me by my oldest daughter. I’m not allowed to date anyone younger than 30 by her rules, since anyone younger would be too uncomfortably young to think of in a motherly capacity. I don’t have the heart (or the nerve) to point out that even someone at 30 would only have been 15 at the time she was conceived. If I ever did mention it, I probably wouldn’t be allowed to date anyone under 50. Not that it really matters as I haven’t been on a date since March. But I digress.

So I notice that there are lots of single people around at least in their twenties. And I’m pretty sure that there were others there in the “acceptable dating age” range. But with all the icky married people there, sitting with the single people they’ve taken under their wings, it was impossible to tell them apart. They were utterly, socially camouflaged. Conference in itself was enjoyable enough, sure. But knowing that Sasquatch were out there, hiding and likely not even knowing they were so completely invisible, was a frustrating experience.

In an effort to bring the Sasquatch out of hiding, I’ve stepped up my efforts to fill my calling in the Single Adult committee. I’ve volunteered to take on the responsibility of compiling the list of activities for all the surrounding stakes and circulate them so that everyone will know what’s going on. We’re really, really terrible in two areas when it comes to Single Adult activities: (a) having them and (b) letting people know when we’re having them. I’ve just grown tired of there not being any good way to socially meet people in general, and seeing that there are single people sitting in the same chapel and not getting together to have a good time just tears it.

I just don’t want to get fooled like the guy that took this picture though. He thought he might have found a Sasquatch, but the experts have said it’s just a bear with mange. I don’t need another one of those though. Brokeback was enough of that. She even tried to take my picnic basket when she left to be with another mangy bear.

A Watched Clock Never Boils…Or Something

At least if you’re Salvador Dali anyway. He had all those melting clocks and that entire dream sequence in Hitchcock’s "Spellbound". Yet another example of drug-infused art. But that was last post.

I really enjoy my job. Quite a bit. I get to be creative, have a leadership role, and push boundaries of thought and design in an arena that most people would say "Quit your lying, you lousy liar" if they knew what kind of projects I worked on. Pushing boundaries and being creative are not largely regarded as being synonymous with financial mega-corporations.

But this week, I’ve wished I had a hit or two of whatever Dali was taking (wait…he regularly dropped acid, so scratch that) to help get me through to the end of Friday, when I can head over to my friends’ house and play a Hallochristmagiving-themed game of Mage Knight Dungeons and look forward to Trick-or-Treat with the kids on Saturday.

Before anyone starts strapping in to read me whine and complain about my lousy boss or crummy long hours or how my projects are too demanding, let me stop you right there. It’s none of those things. I love my manager. She’s great. We get along famously. I enjoy my projects. I find them mentally stimulating and I enjoy challenging people’s preconceptions. And I don’t have crummy long hours either. I’m currently a contractor, and if I go over 40 hours I get paid overtime. Ergo, nobody ever wants me to go over 40 hours in a week.

My problem is that this week, I’ve had squat to do. And I’m massively, extremely, painfully bored.

My projects are currently in a temporary state of limbo. My manager, along with most of the rest of our department, has been tied up all week getting a site released polished off. And what work I have had to do, well, I finish up faster than the average bear. And sitting around for the better part of four days makes me antsy. There’s only so much I’m interested in having corporate IT track me reading online during work hours, and the book I’m reading isn’t holding my attention as well as others have. I’m currently working through a book on CSS styling for web sites, and while I am finding it informative, it’s one of the duller technical tomes I’ve read this year.

Yeah, now you’re getting the image. Loves a good zombie flick and reads technical books in his spare time at work. It’s a wonder some intellectual beauty like Diane Keaton in her early 30’s hasn’t snapped me up already. But hey, at least I’m not an accountant.

What I have a hard time understanding is all the people who seem so comfortable with not having anything to do at their job. Wally in the Dilbert comic is their lord and master, except he’s to lazy to lead them and they’d be to lazy to follow even if he did. How can people be so at ease with their sloth? Don’t they worry that, perhaps, someone might find them to be expendable at some point? Don’t they have any ambition? Any drive? Any kind of autonomic nervous system?

And then there are the people who don’t actually have anything to work on, but somehow manage to maintain the illusion of being busy all the time. That’s the one I really don’t get. How is that possible? The one answer I’ve been able to come up with is claiming to have meetings at the other offices downtown all day, then stopping instead at the movie theater for the afternoon.

So what I’ve had to come to grips with is that sometimes the money I’m paid isn’t about having me being constantly productive. Sometimes, just sometimes, it’s going to be about having me around and available to be productive when things are ready for me. But it would still be nice to have something meaningful and interesting to fill the time with.

Of course I’m working. Don’t you see this hammer in my hands?

Have I mentioned before that I love my job? Well, I do. I love my job. My position is referred to alternately as “interaction designer” or “information architect”. What it all means really is that I figure out how to present stuff in computer programs so that it makes sense and connects on a personal level. It’s creative and thought-provoking, and when it’s done at it’s best you look at it and go “well duh, of course that’s how it should be because that makes total sense”.

I can talk about that some other time though, because even from here I can see that the mere mention of something pseudo-intellectual-geeky is putting people to sleep. This isn’t an association journal article after all.

But one of the great things about my job is where I work. It’s a great group of people in a decent company. This week, our entire group is out at a retreat of sorts. Which is cool, except that it’s only the full-time people and not us lowly contractors Which is okay besides being a bit out of touch with whatever new company mindset might come out of it. But what it does mean is that it’s really quiet at the office. Maybe a little too quiet. But at least there are some other people there, and somehow I just concentrate better in the office setting.

Which of course brings me to today, and another upside to where I work. When something happens the requires staying at home for the day, like having a scheduled maintenance appointment at my apartment, then it isn’t a big deal to work from home. So home it was for me today. My home computer rig is better than my office setup, my dog is here, and today so was my four-year-old daughter. How could it be any better? When I had my own business I worked from home all the time with my kids around and it was great. So I was looking forward to it, getting to do my work in the comforts of home while enjoying my daughter’s fun and creative play. (As a quick aside, has anyone else ever thought it’s funny how close “precious” and “precocious” are in terms of spelling, but not necessarily in meaning? Anyway…)

I, however, have lost my laser-sharp focus when it comes to working at home.

Not that I didn’t still do my work. Got a good bit done actually. But creative four-year-olds do have a way of…uh…distracting you. With anything they can think of. I’m not sure how many rounds of “Break the Ice” I actually wound up playing over the course of the day today, but I knew it was time to cut it off we we started playing a new home-rules variant where the object was to slide the blocks of plastic ice down the hammer handle cocked up against the frame for the game. An interesting variant, but it was kind of difficult to tell whether you were winning. Honestly I’m not sure that anybody won, aside from the fact that we were having fun together. But the revised game rules clearly weren’t ready for tournament play.

Tomorrow I’ll be back at the office and will be able to better concentrate, so I’ll get close to finishing this prototype I’m working on. But in the meantime it appears I have a game of Sponge Bog Tic-Tac-Toe waiting for me.

Guess Ho’s Coming to Dinner?

All hail Windows Media Center, which does me the great favor of keeping track of what crappy television I’m wanting to waste hard drive space recording. Important tonight because it was the premier of “A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila”. Since the VMA’s I’ve been waiting for this one just to make sure I didn’t rant uninformed.

Now let me preface the rest of this monologue by saying a couple things, most important of which is this: I’m not a homophobe. Many people might assume that, just because I was married to someone that later decided a man wasn’t really what they were after, that I would be instantly anti-gay. This is patently not true of me, or the community of us that have been down that road in general. As a matter of fact, some of the str8 spouses (yes, it’s something of an official term) go so far in the pro-gay direction that I think they’re a bit dillusional about it all. Anyway, not homophobic. Beyond that, Mormonism is not inherently homophobic either. Where people get confused is thinking Mormons, and Mormonism in general, hates gay people. Totally wrong. Disagree with the lifestyle, sure. We believe any sex outside of marriage is wrong. So if you’re straight and skankin’ around we’re going to disagree with that too. But people are people, and just because you’re predisposed to homosexuality doesn’t make you any less of a good person than someone predisposed to heterosexuality. So before anyone goes getting their noses bent out of joint and decrying a homophobic foul, put a sock in it and learn to think objectively.

Okay, so with that disclaimer all out of the way, we can start. *ahem*…mi mi mi miiiiiii…do re mi fa so la ti doooooooo…I think I’m ready.

Tila Tequila is a whore.

So that’s the blunt bit. The short version of the story. So now I’ll be fair and dig into that a bit more. In truth, everyone on the show is a whore. Gay…straight…doesn’t matter. All whores. The premise of the show is simple. Er, sort of. Tila is a closet bisexual who hasn’t even come out to her family. So what better way to let them know than by having her own reality show wherein she attempts to come to some kind of personal closure on who she likes to bang…uh…hang with more, and see if she can’t find a relationship along the way. To that end, MTV networks puts her up in a four-story mansion along with twenty-two of the most desparate attention-seekers in the country. Eleven men who dig chicks and eleven women who dig them more. They’re brought in as separate groups and all hear Tila’s little more-than-bi-curious surprise for them at their first meeting.

What about any of this doesn’t scream whores? But more importantly, what about this isn’t fully representative of the moral decay of our society. People flocking from all across the country to (based on the previews of upcoming episodes that I won’t watch) make out everywhere with Tila and also get drunk, pull each other’s hair, swear, and fight amongst themselves. All in an effort to be “the one” for Tila. Because reality television is so much the right place to find true love. Just look at all the happy couples that has worked out for.

Beyond that though, as someone who had their family turned upside-down by a spouse coming out, I am apalled because this kind of behavior and emotional turmoil isn’t entertainment. Throwing Christians to the lions is kinder than what that sort of emotional hell puts people through. Yet the electronic coloseum of MTV is doing just that. And more, this spectacle appears to want to take itself seriously, somehow representing an overlooked part of the common America.

Well, it’s not. Look, MTV is contantly trying to find ratings without playing music videos any more. Who the heck knows why. But this kind of television is just wrong. Life is confusing enough for the MTV target demographic. This type of “Midsummer Night’s Sex Comedy” gone wrong pap does nothing to help or improve that. I’m not advocating that they go to only programming “Sound of Music” and “Mary Poppins” (even Julie Andrews went for the shock factor in “S.O.B.”) but let’s show a little responsibility, shall we? Or at least some creativity. Sex is easy to program. Something of substance takes work, sure. But then at least you wouldn’t have somebody like me calling you whores.