When then whole world's listening, they've got nothing to say

Twice this week, I've tuned into interviews on TV. One of these programs was hyped by the media as a "must see," and the other I hyped up myself because, like it or not, he's the leader of my country and it feels like civic duty that I care what he says about the future of the world (something about which he's able to make definitive statements, inane as that is).

Twice this week, I turned off the TV in disgust, watching both these literal "characters" dig themselves into holes of absurdity. The first person interviewed was Paris Hilton. I, and Larry King, should have known better than to care. When asked why she wanted to do an interview with him, she responded that she considered Larry to be an "icon" and was "honored to be here." After 20 days in jail, her life still has no purpose but to just be places and get attention. She followed up her sycophantic statements about Larry to say that she hoped to share her story of her time in jail. That's when I yelled "I can't believe you're older than me!", threw a pillow at the TV, turned it off, and forced myself to look up the autobiography of Nelson Mandela online, because there were so much more important things I could have been doing with my time. And honestly, I'm only going to listen to the record of life behind bars if it means something to the person and to society as a whole. Paris, by her own doing, is officially just a vapid socialite; which, ironically, she was in the first place.

The second time I watched an interview, I expected better from the speaker. He has his pick of the best speech writers in the country, he went to Yale, and despite all previous failures- of which there have been many- I still have a naive hope that someday he'll pull out a truly eloquent, Blarian soundbite. It was not to be at his speech at the Naval Academy. George W. Bush was his usual folksy self, pointing at chart to answer a question about if we're safer, ("See, the line goes down, which means less violence"- imagine that with a Texas twang). Just when I thought I would be limited to mocking my commander in chief for another hour, to pass the time during breakfast, he said something so mockable, it was past my limit. The official name of the next phase of the "Save Iraq" (my words) strategy is "Operation Phantom Thunder" (his words). Hmm. That sounds like something that a 13-year-old comic book dork would suggest, tugging on Mr. Bush's suit jacket. "Hey Mr. President," he'd say, with some kind of lisp or tooth-gap whistle, "Why don't you call the plan to stop the violence in Iraq Operation Phantom Thunder, because, uh, them soldiers are gonna be quiet like a phantom, but at the same time, even though thunder makes noise, it's a cool word, and I want it. Pleeeeease?" I laughed at my president, appearing foolish again, which made me sad enough to mute the TV and type this. The idea of being proud of the thoughts and speeches of my president seems so vague now, yet in two years, so attainable.

Obvious lesson learned today: media attention has very little to do with global significance. If it did, there would be the 24-hour Save Africa network, Interviews with Iraqi children about their lives and fears on Good Morning America, a Wolf-Blitzer-led public grilling of oil tycoons about the real logic, if any, behind the high gas prices, and so on. If that were so, I would have no choice but to tune in.

And this article, by Maureen Dowd in the Wednesday New York Times, has reaffirmed by hope in the future of this country...maybe there are a few high school students who weren't merely taught to the President's standardized tests, but actually acquired some rationality and feelings of civic duty. Bravo.