Last semester, I touched upon the failing use of language. What I neglected to mention was that this is just a symptom of a much larger problem. The proof of this is in your daily life. When was the last time you went to the library? Read to your children? Watched a documentary? Ate something you’d never had before?
We’re not even looking for intellectual expansion anymore. Somewhere along the lines, burdened with all of the crap that comes flying our way, we decided to just sit back and surrender. The media we’re so overwhelmed by at any given moment is a sad reflection of the human consciousness at work. You want proof? Here’s a hint: The #1 best selling non-fiction book as reported by the New York Times is an account by a minister about how his sickly four year old son reportedly saw heaven (Jesus’ eyes are blue, apparently. Go figure). Even now, I can hear you people out there going “aaaw, how cute.”
Yeah. Cute. But is it helpful in the slightest? Come to think of it, how is a non-fictional account of a fictional (read: traumatic hallucination) account non-fiction?
Even worse, we’re so starved for information that we’ve turned to our entertainment for help. Television, which has been a mixed blessing for the American intellect ever since its inception, seems to have split down the middle when dealing in quality of information. The mind-boggling increase in procedurals over the past few years is a clue about just how starved we are for facts. With every other channel desperately throwing episodes of Law & Order, Criminal Minds or House at us, we find ourselves gleaning tiny tidbits of useless information that make us feel enriched somehow. While this is fine (I am a big fan of useless information), how many of you are really going to use this in your daily lives?
On the other hand, the dreaded reality TV is still on the rise, and the subject matter we’re being handed seems to become increasingly strained for content. I knew all bets were off when studios decided to throw up shows about hick exterminators and dwarves who specialize in pit bulls. If you listen closely, you can almost hear the human psyche scream for help. How much information do you really need to glean from models competing for Vapid Puppet of the Season?
I hesitate to even try to touch on music. Bill Hicks, comedian extraordinaire and bloated corpse once posed a question to his audience: “I seem to remember a time when music had heart and music had balls. Is that true, or am I just romanticizing the past?”
Well, it’s true. That’s not to say that there aren’t good artists out there. But when was the last time you heard a new rock song on the radio waves that didn’t have the same, obnoxiously repetitive five chord progression in drop D, or lyrical content that doesn’t sound like it came out of someone’s book of high school poetry? When was the last time you heard a hip-hop song that used more than ten clips of sampling or synth, didn’t friggin’ make up words just to make the rhyme scheme work, and was delivered by someone whose testicles had dropped (I’m looking at you, Lil Wayne)?
Am I really the only one who is noticing the trend?
Granted, it could be worse. In Detroit, for example, it is estimated that about 47% of the adult population can be considered functionally illiterate. If you’re in college now, then you’re doing better than California high school students who enrolled in the 2008 school year; of whom 140,000 will never receive their diplomas. That’s 775 students who will drop out every day across the state. This is a marked increase from previous statistics, but it’s still far from okay. These statistics, they don’t say much. They’re more like a desperate attempt not to be completely ominous. Forgive me.
Please, I’m begging you: read a book or something. It’s getting desperate.
