It’s not an accident. There are no accidents. President David Palmer narrates “The World According to Dick Cheney.”
In case you’ve forgotten, President David Palmer is the make believe president played by Dennis Haysbert, in the American television series “24,” which ran for 9-years and can only be described as inspiring.
In case you’ve also forgotten, Dick Cheney is the make believe president played by Dick Cheney, in the American television series “Bush/Cheney,” which ran for 8-years and can only be described as terrorizing.
It’s not an accident. There are no accidents. The lead-in movie on Showtime was “The Help,” a movie I vowed never to see, since it struck me as an afterschool special made as a typical celebration of black women needing to be saved by a quirky white woman, who’s possessed with the unlikely ability to see through the hypocrisy of southern hospitality, since she’s slightly brighter than her girlfriends, being blessed with the good fortune of being unfortunate looking.
Luckily, I was wrong. I loved “The Help.” I spent most of the movie sobbing.
Turns out, in 1962, not only were black women treated horribly by the white women who employed them as maids, but white women were treated horribly by the white women who were competing with other white women, in a racist society, which equated high status with cruelty.
On Friday night, Showtime transported me from the segregated world of 1962 to the paranoid world of post 9/11.
On Friday night, Showtime transported me to a world of timelessness, where hatred is sport.
On Friday night, Showtime asked me to get caught-up in taking sides, even if the line is drawn by who shits on what toilet.
When I ask myself what I’m afraid of, it’s this: since we don’t hold the people who are elected to higher office accountable to a higher standard, since we have no interest in Truth & Reconciliation, since we’re perfectly happy clapping our hands when someone comes up with “enhanced interrogation techniques” as a clever twist on “torture,” since war criminals who like fly fishing are perceived as charming and teachers who want a livable wage are perceived as insidious, we’re doomed.
You’re better off skipping “The World According to Dick Cheney.” Unless you’re into Neocon Soft-Porn, where regret is a sign of “Mommy Issues,” and big flag pins on big lapels are the surest sign you’re dealing with a big-time patriot with a big-time flagpole, who, after blowing his money shot, gets-off on looking into the camera and saying, “I’d do it again in a minute.”
But that’s “The World According to Greg Morelli.”