“So, why do we continue to get those shows?” my wife asked. Most of the shows that won the coveted award were comedies and romances and a very few, very violent shows and they were mostly black humor parody. So why do we continue to get them – the violent ones, the shoot ‘em ups, blood splattered, dismembered, burned up body parts laid out on slabs in the morgue, ones that throw blood and guts and brain matter all over our great room? Where is the subtle Miss Marple when you need her with a murder stage left, off camera or Hercule Poirot’s perfect perfectionism and little gray cells in finding the culprit without the gory details out there for everybody and God to see? The good rabbi of family systems theory was right when he told us long ago at the conference to go back to our rooms and watch the evening news. He said it was geared to scare the be-Jesus or the be-Moses out of us to keep us coming back and watching, all for the rating’s war later in the year. Can’t deal with the real, rapid, reality of what is going on in the world (Obama’s rapidly graying hair aside), we get our fix and have vicarious reality and horror intended to scare our pants off, hopefully after we vacate our bowels and wipe with one of those new, soft, moist, flushable wipes (advertised on T.V. by a nice looking woman who sits at a table and tells her table mate that he should finish off the job with one of them presumably because they get the bum really clean and I couldn’t help picturing her really clean bum) because we were scared shitless as intended, all the while, so the media could make a buck or two or three or a gazillion.