All those in favor of making its airing a federal offense, please raise your hand.

Enough already!  I don’t care how juicy, ridiculous, fact-based or not,  if I hear one more rumor about me or anyone else, I will scream.  I don’t care about the demise of so-and-so’s relationship or the neighbor’s gambling problem or the teen addict selling dope from his parent’s palatial home.  Am I supposed to cluck and shake my head, smug in the security of my own middle-class existence?

God forbid anybody intervene; civil liberties might be violated.  Better to sit back and enjoy the spectacle, grateful that it’s them and not you in the hotseat.  Of course, behind your back, industrious friends and foes are sharing every tidbit with non-mutual acquaintance, until your life resembles the pitiable folks of earlier dissection.  The only upside is no one is spared, therefore we’re all fucked.

The only escape is conscious refusal to participate.  Not that it will excuse you from your turn on the rotisserie; but those turns may become fewer as you lend less strength to the engine.


One Response to “DIRTY LAUNDRY”

  1. Here Here
    C’est Vrai!

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