Some Should Die

More people should die. Our only problem as a society is that we lack the moral resolve to let it happen. We have no distinguishable line to draw — everyone on this side we will help live; everyone on that side, for the betterment of us all, shall be left to languish and eventually leave more space for the deserving.

This is a finite planet with finite resources, and some people take up entirely too many resources. I came to this conclusion after a woman in a motorized lounge chair attacked me in a taco shop. Her designation as “female” hinges on two discernible characteristics: a high-pitched voice and sprawling fields of “bosoms,” although the latter are no longer used in any physiological manner; they’re now only utilized as resting spots for two small dogs. The rest of her, beneath the dogs, is a conglomeration of mechanics and fabric — vast rippling plains of purple cotton cover her considerable mass. Below that gleam aluminum engine components, electronic controls, rubber tires, and shiny burgundy plastic fairings. Above the dogs rests her head, or what is now the round furry housing for her food-and-noise hole. The woman and mobility device occupy roughly the same amount of Earth space and energy as three people. Science and money are the only things keeping her on this side of existence.

It was this machine/amorphous-organic-matter being that rammed into me and pinned me to the counter in El Zarape’s on Park Boulevard. One of her dogs had stood on the joystick control of the mechanical lounger, turning her into a rampaging, battering bumper car that flattened me against a wall and tore swathes of skin from my ankles and shins, its tires burning off rubber across my feet, its decking ripping at my legs. Her dogs yapped and nipped for the duration of the encounter. After a few minutes of imparting trauma to me, she finally coaxed the little fellah off the joystick and backed away to turn the device around and leave the restaurant.

I took my tacos home to where I felt safe from clockwork creatures. I turned on the TV to accompany my lunch and watched the news: municipal rescue helicopters circled a mountain where a 92-year-old hiker had stranded himself. More science and money.

“Don’t bother!” I yelled at the TV. “Draw the line! Save the taxes and fuel!”

WHAT I WILL AND WON'T WATCH THIS WEEK

Thursday, January 15
Barney and Friends
PBS 10:00 a.m.
Call me bonkers, but I’d like to know the size, color, shape, and texture of Barney’s poop. I don’t want to see it in person, you know, but from afar, in an encyclopedia. I have a fear of witnessing the actual event; I don’t want to watch him down on his haunches, shaking a magazine in front of his face and grimacing. That’d be too much.

A Double Shot at Love
MTV 8:00 p.m.
Reality programming has always been bad, but the latest crop makes me long for the high-status entertainment of Mama’s Family.

Friday, January 16
Ghost Whisperer
CBS 8:00 p.m.
Jennifer Love Hewitt is apparently a complete nutter; her last boyfriend left because she’s a total kangaroo cookie. I say, bring it on. I like mine nice and crazy. Nothing says “I love you” like heaving sobs and an iron skillet bashing in a bathroom doorknob.

Saturday, January 17
Stargate SG-1
CW 5:00 p.m.
Still living with virginity? STOP WATCHING SCI-FI IN THE MIDDLE OF A SATURDAY AFTERNOON AND HOPING FOR A GLIMPSE OF SIDEBOOB. See if you can do a sit-up. Wipe the tears off your glasses and go outside. DON’T CHECK YOUR DAMN EMAIL FIRST, JUST GO!

You, Me, and Dupree
TBS 9:00 p.m.
Oh, God! There is nothing worse than a movie starring Kate Hudson; her name is the hallmark of a truly awful film. She is the drum majorette of the Marching Stink Band at the Parade of Garbage in the town of Roadkill Scrape, USA. (Watch her twirl! Watch her twirl!)

Sunday, January 18
Saturday Night Live Presidential Bash 2008
NBC 9:00 p.m.
This looks about as interesting as Abe Vigoda prancing naked through the rain. Which is to say very interesting! C’mon, Abe, yank down that hernia truss and kick up those black dress socks, we’re getting wet and wild! Ow! You love the camera. The camera loves you!

Monday, January 19
Superstars of Dance
NBC 9:00 p.m.
At some point this year I’m going to march to City Hall and demand to be shot in the ear with a high-caliber pistol. Hey, Government and Television are inextricably linked — there’s that whole switching over to digital thing happening and the FCC censorship and all that. If you’re going to allow this dance nonsense to continue, I’m going to demand an ear-shooting.

Tuesday, January 20
Inaugural Ball
ABC 8:00 p.m.
You may think, in this time of hope and this genesis for a new America, that there’s no one so stupid or immature enough as to make an “Obama’s big ball” joke. Oh, you were wrong, my friend. Oh, how wrong you were. (Let’s get it over with, shall we?) I JUST CAN’T WAIT TO SEE BARACK OBAMA’S ENORMOUS, FANCY BALL! (Thank you.)

Inaugural Review
ABC 9:00 p.m.
Not as fun as the “ball” gag. (Ooh, ball gag! Ha! I guess it is as fun.)

Wednesday, January 21
Make ’em Laugh: The Funny Business of America
PBS 9:00 p.m.
Oh, sweet. PBS tackles comedy. Probably a bunch of knock-knock jokes about the British tax system in the 16th Century. Or a “folk comedian” who does bird calls and cobbles boots with banjo strings and cooks crawdads in his hat, or some other intellectual crap. Oh, yeah, this ought to be great. Fart jokes, PBS. Learn ’em. Love ’em.