Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Good Morning America Announces the End of the World

The tv was on when I arrived at the gym, so I watched the already chosen show, Good Morning America. If we need immutable evidence that we're up Shit Creek, shows like this provide it.

Fatuous comes quickly to mind when one reaches for descriptors. Fatuity is alive and well within the precincts of this show. GMA banks on your short attention span. I know the show aims for an audience readying to launch out the door, so yes, things are short and sweet (minus the sweet). But the smirky smarm of the microbits of information and entertainment of every segment should be seen as oppressive. Given the ratings magic of these morning shows, I guess people see oppressive smarm as a positive.

In the old days of these shows, sturdy desks and serious expressions made the chop suey being offered seem mildly consequential, even if the report were on the latest trend in wearable rutabagas. Celebrities were kept to a minimum, which is where they belong.

Nowadays, the word celebrity is big and flexible. It's not just film stars and bestseller writers, it's also the guy who split his pants in the Youtube video. That means there exists an awful lot of celebrities to celebrate. The panel itself is a congealed mass of celebrities, tho I cannot name them all.

Four women and a man form the panel. I suppose there are substitutions at times. I recognize three as first teamers: George Stephanopoulos, Robin Roberts, and Lara Spencer. The other two were properly lively and attractive (as well), whatever that might mean.

Stephanopoulos looks a little crunchy at this point. No longer the wunderkind on the big political stage, with his dark hair and dark suit, and especially as the women dress brightly, he looks grave and heavy. Not that he doesn't chum up with the banter, as the show requires. His effort at playful fun is unsettling, might even physically hurt, but he’s a game competitor.

Robin Roberts actually carries some gravitas herself. I imagine she was an athlete of note, in college. Well yeah, and a star pitcher for the Philadelphia Phillies, back in the 50s. She really knew what she was talking about as an ESPN anchor, or whatever she was. Stepping up to GMA represents a step down to frivolity, but at least now she can afford to buy stately Wayne Manor.

I first saw Lara Spencer on Antiques Roadshow. She looked the part, cool and efficient. She presented the right tone of sedate professionalism, as must be on PBS. On GMA, she matches all the others in cackle and smirk.

Amy Robach—I had to look her name up—--is whoever she is, I didn't see enough. Was there someone else sitting cross-legged on the panel or did I imagine it? The set, I should note, entirely lacks desks, the troupe lounges in swivel chairs as they blurt cheap hilarity at each other. Another guy was outside in the crowd looking for insipid people. Who were never far away.

And that's the dynamo producing moolah for some corporate entity. That's the product, that's the thing people are buying. Spencer got to introduce a Youtube video that showed animals in stop-motion that made them look as if they danced. Isn't that sad? That's where the billion dollar corporation goes for content. There's a bottom line here folks: let's don't overspend. Any crap will do.

Spencer also got to do a spot with a Youtube phenomenon dog. I don't know what the dog did in the video but on the live set it properly looked around and ignored Spencer. Great tv.

Don't worry, there's still news on the show, which means the word Benghazi was pronounced, etc. The show cuts away briefly for local weather. Apparently we'll be having some.

I've heard, like maybe from one of the People magazines collected at the gym, that bad blood exists between I guess it would be Spencer and Robach. I should hope so. Not that that would interfere with the prime bantering. Small talk and guffaws, that's a job and these stalwarts are determined to do it right. Good Morning, America!