Vice commentary
Reality TV shows bring viewers together
Whenever I read about reality televi
sion, it's the same old tripe.
"Oh, to what depths will we sink
next? Midget star search? C-list celebrity
kung fu? Real World: Iraq?"
No, no and no. Of course not. The
next big reality hit has a simple concept.
It's set for a May release date on CBS.
It's "Peter and Friends Watch Reali
ty Television."
Reality TV is the heroin pumping
through my veins. It's caffeine, choco
late and alcohol rolled into one It's my
vice of vices. Lots of people hate it.
Some people sit on the fence.
Luckily, all my buddies eat it up like
birthday cake. So whenever we sit
down to watch it together, I swear they
should have the cameras trained on
my living room.
To the television during "Real World:
San Diego," we scream "Free Brad!"
To "Average loe 2: Hawaii," we growl,
in our best Boston accents, "Nobody's
gonna come into my house and push
me or my buddies around." Or "Have
you ever been on a yacht? No, but 1
been on a booze cruise."
To "American Idol," we shriek "She
bangs! She bangs!"
To "Joe Schmo," we ask "What is go
ing oooon?"
Anybody who thinks reality TV can't
produce one-liners is just plain wrong.
Peter Hockaday
Today is Hockaday
And anybody who dismisses reality
television as unintelligent garbage
needs to be locked in a room with Si
mon Cowell for a week.
Really, nothing can unite television
watchers like reality shows. The emo
tional highs and lows are higher and
lower because the people you're watch
ing are real. You can read me the riot act
of how shows are cut to skew reality or
how producers manipulate viewers.
Whatever. I can tell you right now,
true reality junkies don't give a whit. We
love it all. We love it because we can yell
at the television. Because we can tell
people, real people, they're idiots. Be
cause Jessica Simpson is stupid.
Because Donald Trump is brutally hon
est. Because Richard Hatch is more ma
nipulative than a teenage girl.
Perhaps it takes a reality movie to ex
plain reality television. Last spring, my
buddy Jeff and I needed to see "The
Real Cancun" because it was the first re
ality movie ever. Critics slammed the
movie harder than an Andy Roddick
serve. Some even put it on their "worst
of the year" lists this winter.
Again, we didn't care Did I mention
we're junkies? We went to the movie
theater on a Thursday soon after it
Turn to HOCKADAY, page 11B
Violence in media affects future generations
I grew up watching Star Trek: me
Next Generation." Regardless of how
writers (e.g. John Zerzan) might feel
about the militaristic or hierarchical as
pects of the show, the basic lesson that
the ever-reasonable Captain Picard, the
wild-eyed Data and the rest of the mot
ley crew imparted upon me was simple:
Violence doesn't solve problems; it es
calates them.
Yet perhaps Star Trek is a bit too ide
alistic in this day and age. Because, un
deniably, 21st century Western culture's
greatest vice is violence, violence and
more violence. Like children sucking
on the proverbial teat, we're milked on
this stuff from birth to the point that it's
just viewed as one more fact of eveiyday
life, or in other words, "normal."
In this visual nation, there is little
respite from the addiction to violence.
In his article, "We Are Training Our Kids
to Kill," Lt. Col. Dave Grossman —who
spent nearly 25 years learning and
studying how to enable people to kill
— parallels military combat training
with media desensitization.
Children "don't naturally kill,"
Grossman said. "It is a learned skill.
And they learn it from abuse and vio
lence in the home, and more pervasive
ly, from violence as entertainment in
television, the movies, and interactive
videogames."
Grossman explains that a young
child is brutalized when he or she is
Aaron Shakra
Notebooks of DJ Serpentine
first able to discern what is happening
on television, much like a soldier is
brutalized upon arriving at boot camp.
"When young children see some
body stabbed, raped, brutalized, de
graded and murdered on TV, to them
it as though it were actually happen
ing," he says.
Two other examples outline Gross
man's article. Classical conditioning,
which you may be familiar with
through Ivan Pavlov's famous experi
ments with dogs, operates as children
watch vivid pictures of human suffering
and death juxtaposed with pleasurable
images of soft drinks, candy bars and
perfume The lesson? For a defenseless
viewer, violence becomes associated
with pleasure.
Operant conditioning is a repetitive
procedure. An example of this would
be a first-person shooter video game.
"Aim, shoot, aim, shoot aim, shoot"
to the point that pulling the trigger be
comes a reflexive response.
As compelling as Grossman's article
is, he makes little connection to the in
stitutions that condone violence in our
culture. Media and video games are
only symptoms, indicative of a larger
problem. This perspective is summed
up succinctly in the Michael Franti
lyric: "You tellin1 the youth don’t be so
violent / then you drop bombs on
TumtoSHAKRA, page 11B
Caring for too many pets can strain budget, sanity
You probably have a pet, don't you?
Just a cat or a dog, maybe something
more exotic like a bird or a snake?
But you have a limit.
According to the American Pet Asso
ciation, there are 139,654,267 licensed
dogs and cats in the United States.
That's approximately one dog or cat for
every couple of people. Not bad.
But what about the people out
there who have, say, nine pets? Are
they crazy? I think so, and sadly I'm
one of them.
I grew up in Douglas County, and
my nearest neighbor was a cow. Liter
ally. My family always had a lot of ani
mals. Throughout my childhood, we
had one dog, up to eight cats, a tank
full of fish, some bummer lambs and
a cycle of rats, birds and hamsters.
You'd think that, growing up with a
house full of animals, I wouldn't be
able to wait to be rid of them, right?
Wrong.
Four cages sit near the front door of
my home. Inside those cages are nine
Siberian dwarf hamsters. Black Rebel
Hamster Mama, Peggy, Spike, Spike
(Spike's brother), T. Rex, Chub-Chub,
Tiny Tina, Lex and Al.
My life with pets has been a hamster
soap opera. Here's the story so far: A
friend of mine gave me Abdul (who I
thought was male, but turned out to be
female). I loved my new (and only) pet
so much that I went out and bought
two cages and lots of tubes. Abdul did
n't like all the space her new home af
forded her, so I had to buy another
hamster who would appreciate the spa
cious settings. That's how Black Rebel
Hamster Mama (who happens to be
male) came into my life
Abdul got pregnant and gave birth
to Peggy, Spike and Spike (you know,
like on "Newhart": "This is Daryl and
p7
Brandi Smith
The truth about cats & dogs
my other brother Daryl"). I bought
another cage to house my growing
population of hamsters and every
thing was going great until Peggy got
pregnant. To this day, I can't figure out
how it happened. She lived in a cage
full of girls, I think.
Peggy also gave birth to four babies:
Bullet, Lex, Chub-Chub and Tiny
Tina. Bullet was given to a friend, but I
kept the other three.
As soon as she could, Abdul got
pregnant again but died giving birth.
The friend who originally gave Abdul
to me decided giving me another
hamster would help with my loss. So
T. Rex joined the family.
Shortly thereafter, I bought Al (the
albino). Who wouldn't want an albi
no hamster to spice things up?
So, in total, I now have nine ham
sters. And if for some strange reason
you don't think nine hamsters is a lot,
just think about the costs. I cannot
fathom how much money I have
spent on my tiny buddies. I mean, I
shop for pet supplies at Wal-Mart and
I still spend a small fortune. There's
the $5 bag of bedding (of which I
have to buy two; one cedar and one
red cedar), the $6 container of food
and many $2 treats and chewy toys. In
the end, I spend about $15 dollars a
week on my little lovelies. That's more
than I spend on food for myself dur
ing the same amount of time!
I love 'em, though, so 1 guess that jus
tifies starving myself to keep them com
fy, well-fed and entertained. Or does it?
You know those old ladies with
houses full of cats? I think I'm starting
to mutate into one, but with ham
sters. I don't want to be an old cat
lady. I'm only 21. And I do have a so
cial life... sort of.
Contact the copy chief
at brandismith@dailyemerald.com.
Her opinions to not necessarily
represent those of the Emerald.
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