MAYBE IT’S ME

One thing I hate is when I am the last person to know something. When everyone else is ‘onto’ or ‘with it’ as they say, and I am unaware, it starts to bother me. But usually this happens when at the very beginning, whatever it is, I didn’t deem important enough to get interested in.

Recently, the press has made a big deal about two things that I never thought needed to be in the newspapers to warrant attention.

First off is the famous Manti Te’o. Who is Manti Te’o Uncle Joe Bob you ask? I guess if you follow Notre Dame football, you might know who he is, but if you have a lot of time on your hands, reading the classics to you is yesterday’s news, then, you definitely know who he is.

Now I’m not following this story closely, just an occasional peek at a headline and find he has an imaginary girl friend who died or something. Not only is this so-called girlfriend dead, she spoke to him all night at some point. But the voice was someone else’s, a guy using a falsetto voice. My next point is very important: WHO CARES?

The press has made this an important story, and the Notre Dame footballer is on every tabloid, and taking a lot of ink. Does this have an effect on the fiscal cliff, if so: can we push the story over the cliff? Will it get Assad out of Syria so the children stop dying? By the way, those stories can be found way in the back in Newsday, or behind the gossip columns of the New York Daily News!

Then there is Beyonce’, who had the audacity to lip-sync the music at the Presidential inauguration. At first I thought that maybe it was someone else’s voice she was lip-syncing to, but it was her voice. She made an appearance, lip-synced to her own voice and the world is now standing on its collective head! To repeat myself for clarity once again: WHO CARES?

I guess this just points out to how far we as a people are regressing. Rather than obsessing over the homeless and the hungry, the abused children of the world, the wars and starvation, and the lack of care about these issues or so it seems, we obsess over the stupid things in life that have no life of their own except in the rags that report it.