Play One on TV

This article was inspired by something I wrote last month about The A-Team. You ever notice that a commando squad is always referred to as a crack team of commandoes? It’s never just team of commandoes - they have to be a crack team, or they’re nothing.

If I were to describe them as simply a team of commandoes, nobody would be impressed. People would be thinking to themselves, “Why didn’t he say crack team? Are these guys any good? Are they just average? Maybe they’re only a mediocre team of commandoes. I’ll bet they couldn’t hit the side of the barn if you painted a picture of Osama bin Laden on the long side. In a hostage standoff, would I be better off taking my chances with the gunman?”

Just try to say a set of pants instead of a pair of pants, or try referring to Michael Jordan without appending is a god. It doesn’t scan, does it? Language is such a funny thing - something starts out as a descriptive phrase and, over time, becomes a proper noun.

I’m beginning to see many of these “pop phrases” that no longer “pop”; that is to say, they no longer accurately represent what they purport to describe. Yet these phrases have become so associated with the object in question that you risk social isolation if you fail to use the phrase as expected.

For example: Breaking News. I’ve been seeing this one a lot lately, especially since the war on terrorism has given newscasters license to break into the regular broadcast every time President Bush tries a different brand of toothpaste. “Breaking News” used to mean something important just happened, right now, and you need to know, right now. I’m talking about really urgent matters, like fires, floods, declarations of war, or an threatened visit from Pauley Shore. Unfortunately, the phrase “breaking news” seems to have mutated to the extent that it describes the actual act of breaking into the regular broadcast, whether or not the topic is seriously newsworthy.

For example, while President Bush speaking to an elementary school is certainly important to the 300 children, 50 faculty, and 5000 Secret Service agents actually at that school, I have to ask what this has to do with the price of tea in China. I mean, it’s a fair bet that Bush isn’t going to misspell “potato”. Aside from that, I can’t think of many things he could say to the under-11 crowd that would rock my world.

While I’m peeving at the news media, let’s pick on the word Live (as in “Live at the White House, we go to Andrea Koppel and our crack team of reporters.”) Back in the days prior to cable, when the mere act of lofting a communications satellite into orbit required the realignment of national industry, being viewed “live” actually meant something significant. Viewers marveled at the fact that they were seeing something at the actual moment it occurred (minus a five-second delay to keep the streakers off the airwaves). “Live Via Satellite” became the marketing phrase of newscasters and beauty pageants across the globe. Tape delay was for poor television stations in Kenya, or maybe Arkansas.

These days, we’re not so easily impressed. Communications satellites are going up as fast as our children can build them out of Legos. Unfortunately, media management has yet to catch on to our lack of excitement over live reporting. As a result, reporters spend half their career freezing their butts off, standing “LIVE” in front of the actual building where the events actually took place on this actual date (minus about six or seven hours). The reporter then breaks away to a taped report (undoubtedly with a “Breaking News” logo at the bottom) showing the actual event. The end result of all this actual nonsense? We see a videotape report that could have easily been introduced by a studio-based reporter that isn’t dying of exposure at that actual moment.

My hint to the news organizations - save a few million on HMO costs and get your reporters back inside where it’s warm. If your reporter says that something happened at White House earlier today, I’ll generally believe them. I don’t need you to prove to me that the actual White House is actually still there.

You want to introduce your next guest, the entertainer Cher? Say it with me: The Lovely Cher. This one came into use around the time that she and Sonny broke up. It would have been terribly gauche to say “And here’s Ugly Sonny and The Lovely Cher” (although nobody would have faulted your accuracy). Once the inevitable celebrity divorce came about and frankenfurter-mustache was out of the picture, people felt free to notice that Cher was, indeed, a lovely person, albeit in a toothy long-nosed kind of way. Talk-show hosts the world over began ushering “the lovely Cher” into their studios and into the American vernacular.

Except she’s not exactly “the lovely” anymore, is she? The well-preserved Cher would be closer to the truth, I would think. There’s only so much that plastic surgery can accomplish, and I believe Cher is approaching some sort of event horizon concerning its effectiveness. I understand that well-defined cheekbones are a prized feature in western culture, but Cher could use hers to slit the shrink rap off of a new CD case. If I were feeling helpful, I would suggest use of the replacement phrase the elegant Cher, but it’s hard to reconcile the word “elegant” with someone who wears a purple wig at her farewell concert.

Fifteen Minutes of Fame. Andy Warhol coined this phrase to describe the accessibility and fleeting nature of fame in the modern media world, but he could never have anticipated the staying power of the Internet. Nor could he have imagined the rapidly declining tastes of America, and the horrific personalities that fate would choose to promote to the forefront of popular awareness. In a world where child star Danny Bonaduce can still grab media attention, fame is not just for 15 minutes - it’s forever. Still don’t believe me? Just check out a Google search for Tonya Harding.

If I could be allowed to devote a moment to the more literary pursuits, I’d like to pick on the collective noun known as A Murder of Crows. If I had a dime for every time someone used this for dramatic effect in their new murder mystery, I’d have enough money to buy out the creators of CSI and change it back into The X-Files. Yes, I understand quite clearly that “murder” is the correct grouping name for crows. Murder = Black birds = Death. Okay, okay, I got it already — just tell me the butler did it and get it over with.

It’s time to use another set of birds. Just think of the possibilities. You could have a parliament of ravens as the nefarious omen at a murder mystery situated in the British House of Commons. Or you could write a book called A Pride of Peacocks and have Little Richard play the lead role in the movie version. I suppose you could even do something with A Flock of Seagulls if you don’t mind alienating everyone under age 40.

Thanks to the recent wave of UFO movies and television shows, every tabloid has the words Crop Circle on it favorites’ list. Folks, they’re not circles anymore. Yes, when they first started showing up in the late 70’s, they were circular. Someone must have given these aliens a Martha Stewart book or something, because they’re now making curly-cues and arcs and rays and zig-zags and pcitures of the Mona Lisa, with nary a circle to be seen. Calling them “crop circles” just confuses the heck out of third-grade geometry students all over the world.

But maybe that’s part of their plan. By holding back the development of mathematics and spatial awareness in our younger population, we won’t be able to develop the technologies necessary to resist their forces. It could be a prelude to invasion…

Nah. I’m sticking with the Martha Stewart theory.

You ever knock one back at a Sports Bar? Sports bars seem to have a decorating budget that rivals most major league baseball clubs, but it doesn’t hide the fact that a “sports bar” is one of the most un-athletic places on the planet. You can have all the accoutrements that money can buy - big screen televisions, subscriptions to ESPN Sport Paks, sports memorabilia and equipment signed by successful athletes, and a wall festooned with baseball caps and football helmets. But this won’t change the fact that if the average sports bar put its clientele onto a soccer field, 90% of them would be dead of heart attacks within the first ten minutes. The other 10% would be on the bench breaking into the beer keg.

And how many Very Special Episodes have you watched in your lifetime? I remember when “very special episode” meant that your beloved characters would be going through a life-changing experience that would bring the family together in a new spirit of love and mutual understanding. Albert would be dying of cancer on “Little House on the Prairie”, or the Korean War would be ending on the final, very special episode of “M*A*S*H”.

You know what “very special episode” means these days? One of the characters is going to have sex. It was bad enough when this was confined to premarital or extramarital liaisons, but in the days where we have hit shows like Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Fear Factor, I don’t want to hazard who will be having sex with what.

Reality television. ‘Nuff said.