Emo,
great friend of this site, informs us of a particularly icky moment from
last week’s broadcast of "Medium," an NBC drama in which a
psychic helps the police by talking with dead people.

(Yes, something even ickier than basing an entire TV series on galling blatant bullshit.)

The characters in the program suddenly begin talking about a new, real-life Sony movie.  Moments later, the network runs an ad for the same real-life Sony movie.  The moment of "drama" was not only bought and paid for, but almost palpably proud in its utter sellout.

Ick.

Now, don’t get me wrong.  It’s not that I’m arguing for the integrity of a TV show which popularizes horseshit, reinforcing superstition while doing a gross
disservice to science and reason, degrading the level of discourse in
an already-irrational culture capable of terrifying and deadly
bursts of mass illogic.  Plainly not. 

Nor am I holding myself up as any beacon of reason.  After all, I am
weirdly pleased at owning a Salad Spinner which once belonged to Farrah
Fawcett, as noted below.  Also, I’m apparently willing to say so out loud, which is probably even less rational.  So Wittgenstein I ain’t.

Just, um… ick.

Ick, because preserving some distinction between expression and
commerce is
fundamental to any free society.  While the two have
intermingled for centuries — heck, early spear-makers probably wanted
cave paintings to feature their distinctive weapons — maintaining a general
awareness of the distinction is vital, and now the line is blurred even
further.  Public discourse is incrementally more a mere product whored off to the highest bidder.

Stuff like this is exactly how our
political system slips further into dysfunction.  When everything is for sale, people stop expecting any other motive for human behavior, and corruption becomes the operating moral standard.

And ick even more, because if our dear buddy Emo was actually watching
"Medium" — instead of just noticing the above while clicking around
— then I suddenly realize he must be either gravely injured or just too damn depressed to change
the channel.

Geez.  Now I’m getting worried.  I better get over there.  Maybe I should call 911.

And, um, this could have happened to anybody.  We will never speak of this again.

I wonder if a Salad Spinner would help cheer him up.