Long work day Sunday. Lots of downtime. I finished The Long Fall by Walter Mosely, read a few news stories on my phone, and looked around for something else. I found a recent issue of Us Weekly.
I haven't seen this publication in decades, and I was immediately struck by the fact that I only recognized one person on the cover. This was a shock. Seriously. I'm not completely out of touch. I'm exposed to cable news daily, and I watch at least two nightly monologues. I check Google news and Reuters several times a day.
It's true I don't watch TMZ, or anything on E!, and I've never seen American Idol or Dancing With... anyone (you just never get that time back), in fact, I watch no reality television at all (unless cops or opilio crab are involved) but, seriously... who are these preening children?
Intrigued and somewhat alienated, I flipped slowly through this montage of cheerful, chirpy banality, (What is this? Tiger Beat?) growing increasingly unhappy. Big, pretty pictures. Short, choppy headers and captions. Much like this sentence. (Yes, that one.) Page after page. This is who we are? This is us?
Really?
Conde Nast was forced to cancel Gourmet, but this drivel sells? Will someone please take me back to my home planet?
I was beginning to think I was just too old, and then I turned the page and saw an ad for what appeared to be a sister publication. Us Hair.
Us Hair. The world of celebrity hair.
It's a magazine. People buy it. On purpose.
Me too old? That might be the wrong adjective.
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