Steve
WILLEY
Talkin’ (white) trash
Daytime TV offers hours of entertainment
I am not ashamed to admit that I
am hopelessly addicted to what I
refer to as “White-Trash Hours.” You
may know these hours better by their
more common names such as
ine jerry
Springer Show ”
I have
been known to
purposely miss
class, work and
appointments
with my proc
tologist when
particularly
stimulating episodes are to air. These
episodes include, but are not limited
to ‘Teenage Leprechauns who use
Scotch-tape dispensers for immoral
purposes,” and of course my favorite,
“My 39-year-old son refuses to get
out of our dishwasher.”
Race issues are also some of my
preferred episodes to watch. Anytime
you have an intoxicated Klansman in
front of a largely ethnic audience,
you’re bound to get some good
entertainment.
One of the most memorable
occurred on “The Jerry Springer
Show” in which an irate Grand
Wizard chanted the phrase
“Whmnte PaaHER” for 45 minutes
of the hour-long show.
(I later learned that the Klansman
was angry because producers refused
to let him bring a 12-pack of
Budweiser on stage with him.)
The show really got interesting
when another of Jerry’s guests, when
ordered by the Klan to move back to
Africa, brilliantly responded by
saying the only way she was going
back to Africa was if the Klan bought
her a “round-trip ticket THERE, and
a round-trip ticket BACK!”
I don’t know where the producers
of these shows get these people, but I
can only assume that they were
unfortunate victims of some hideous
nuclear disaster the public wasn’t
made aware of.
If you have never experienced this
pinnacle of human intelligence, allow
me to take you through a typical day
with the accomplished journalist,
Geraldo. I will use his common focus
of “Husbands who left their wives for
a spatula.” Here’s how it unfolds:
GERALDO: He sighs and dejectedly
gazes into the camera “Mike
Wapperson was, by many accounts, a
man who had it all. His lovely wife
and 16 children shared a romantic
two-bedroom cabin (the camera
shows a photograph of a man
crouching outside of a dilapidated
shack and throwing rocks at a family
of possums) near the Sulfur-mining
town of Green Tick, Alabama.
“But Mike Wapperson always felt
as if he was missing something;
something his friends and family
could never understand.” Kneeling
beside an unshaved Wapperson,
Geraldo gently begins to caress the
man s arm. “Mike, tell us why you’re
so unhappy.”
MIKE: “Well... (he swallows
nervously) I’m in love with... with
a... spatula. (He seems relieved.)
GERALDO: He shakes his head at
the floor and, rising from his knees,
slowly faces the audience. “A
spatula! (He begins to sob.) This man
is infatuated wife fee very thought of
them. (TUming sharply toward Mike)
Isn’t it true, Mike, that two of your
children are fee offspring of this
spatula and in fact....
Suddenly, almost as if mysteri
ously on cue, a folding metal chair
sails through the air, hitting Geraldo
squarely on his nose.
GERALDO: Clutching his nose with
both hands. “DAMMMTT! Everyday
I try to do a show and some PUNK
has gotta be a... (noticing his nose
has begun to bleed) Aww CRAP! ”
(After a brief intermission, Geraldo
returns semi-composed.) “Now,
Where was I? (He looks to a stage
hand) Ahhh yes! (He begins crying
again.) Mike, why a spatula?
Couldn’t you have found a nice
ladle? (Flinging his hands into the
air) Oh, fee PAIN you would have
saved your wife!”
MIKE: Now clearly agitated, Mike
stands and points at Geraldo. “You
know, Mr. Ger... uh..Harold... (he
trails off.) It’s real easy for you to
stand there and judge me, but you
ain’t me, brother, and you certainly
ain’t never been wife no spatula!”
At this point, Geraldo and Mike
Wapperson engage in a childish
standoff where each person mimics
the actions of the other until eventu
ally, everyone, including elderly
audience members and the show’s
producers, beats the shit out of
Geraldo.
I believe that this is not mindless
blundering as many will claim. These
shows provide a valuable service to
society by uplifting millions of
Americans’ spirits, therefore proving
their necessity.
How, you ask? Well, let me give
you a hypothetical example. Let’s say
that I am arrested for jay-walking and
the state gives me an unprecedented
punishment far that crime: life in
prison. The following day, the
governor takes out a front-page ad
revealing that I sleep with ajar of
mayonnaise under my pillow.
Now, this would certainly be a
trying time fen: me, but after watching
“White-Trash Hours,” I would
realize that my life, while painful at
the moment, is hot nearly as dismal
as the guy’s on the “Ricki Lake
Show” who knocked-up a basset
hound.
(Editor’s note: ‘I’m going to be
sick!”)
So join me if you will, on this
quest for highly entertaining and
uplifting stupidity. You need only to
look no further than the closest
television. And may no one you
know be a guest on Montel’s “People
who must pinch the rump of animals
whose names are only (me syllable
long.”
Willey is totally out of his mind.
Oh, and he’s also a senior news
editorial major and a Daily
Nebraskan columnist
Cartoon
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