Now, I Know WHY I Haven't Watched PBS In Years!

I was involved with PBS from the early 1980s until 2000 — nearly 20 years. Throughout most of that time, especially after the Collegium Excellens obtained a broadcast license from the FCC (another story entirely) to operate a PBS-affiliate in Amarillo, I had regular transactions with the PBS Adult Learning Service. The PBS station at the Collegium went on the air in early September 1988 and the first show was a telecourse lesson for a PBS-distributed video course in U. S. government. From that moment on, I was locked in a death struggle over airtime for the telecourses I oversaw with the station manager (another story entirely) who didn't share my vision that the mission of the PBS station was to be an arm of the Collegium. Instead, the station manager wanted to pretend that the station had little or nothing to do with the Collegium or its offerings. Finally, I had a bellyful of non-cooperation and sullen provision of "precious" airtime. I quit working with telecourses. Adios to all that. I stopped watching the PBS offerings of the local station. Now that I no longer live in Amarillo, guess what? I haven't gone back to PBS programming where I live now. Do I miss it? No! If this is a (fair & balanced) epiphany, so be it.

[x Denver Post]
PBS: Change or die
By Michael Booth

With cable programming crowding public television's niche, why do we need to give our tax dollars to Inspector Poirot?

There is a place where nothing changes.

There is a place where an hour seems like a lifetime.

There is a place where "Antiques Roadshow" might as well be the name for the entire network.

What is this place? It's called PBS.

I turned to public television the other night and felt like a teenager again - but not in a good way. "Nature." "Mystery!" "NOVA." "McLaughlin Group." Public television has transformed itself from national treasure to national archive.

Public-TV programming, in Colorado and around the nation, has become a parody of itself. Reading the program guide alone is enough to put one sound asleep, let alone watching the actual shows themselves - nearly every one stuck in a 1970s time warp of blandly earnest irrelevance.

A lineup this dull and out of touch no longer deserves our federal tax money.

Debate rages whether conservative Republican forces are making over public television in their own image. But does a liberal falling in the forest make a sound if no one is watching? How programs this studiously unfashionable could offend anyone, right or left, is a question for "Mystery!"

It's time to force an extreme makeover. Colorado public TV officials claim that the 15 percent of their budgets coming from federal aid is their "margin of excellence." I disagree. I think it's their crutch for perpetual inconsequence. To keep that 15 percent, they must strive for the middle, while TV all around them on the dial sprints headlong in an exhilarating pursuit of high and low culture.

The heart of the PBS lineup, what critics call the "prosaic genres" of history, nature, cooking and hobby shows, are all heavily represented on cable these days - only with better production values. "Antiques Roadshow," one of the few PBS success stories in recent years and increasingly crammed into the lineup as filler, has no higher purpose for existing on a publicly financed frequency.

PBS executives argue their children's shows still distinguish the public stations, a plea I finally, sadly, have to reject. There are no teachable moments in "Clifford the Big Red Dog" or "Barney" that you can't find in "Rugrats" or "SpongeBob SquarePants" on Nickelodeon, and "SpongeBob" in particular is much smarter and funnier.

The most successful PBS children's shows are little more than merchandising vehicles, including the ADD-inducing "Sesame Street," long an overrated, untouchable icon of so-called "educational" TV. What "Sesame Street" did was educate children to buy products peddled by characters they saw on TV, a role happily played by commercial television without public support.

PBS war horses such as "Masterpiece Theater," "Mystery!" or "National Geographic," are usually matched and often surpassed by good cable fare. No fiction programming on PBS in more than a decade has touched the quality of "The Sopranos," "Deadwood," "Carnivale" or "Six Feet Under."

Saying no one else will do it if PBS doesn't no longer passes the test of the remote control.

"Frontline" still commissions compelling documentaries, yet many indie filmmakers can pursue edgier projects with HBO, Showtime, other cable channels or a healthy network of independent distributors. The "Newshour" remains a valuable national resource, yet critics note the program uses the same "official" and "official opposition" sources as commercial TV such as "Nightline." Public radio is doing it better, with "Talk of the Nation" and other, newer, programs.

Finally, then, PBS must argue for local programming, conveniently ignoring that many stations in the network fail to produce much local content at all. It's a nice idea, in the abstract. The problem is that for much of the country it remains an abstract benefit.

Colorado's two primary stations, KRMA-6 and KBDI-12, are among the proud few that concentrate on local shows. Yet the lineup is unimaginative and obligatory, featuring talking heads on bad sets, selecting only the most obvious voices for opinions; or state travel brochures disguised as populist storytelling.

Pull the $390 million federal plug on the PBS parent and the local stations, and force some change. If the old shows have a following, find a way to put them online, then spend that federal money more wisely by helping hook up poor households to broadband Web service.

Experiment with video blogging, podcasting and cellphone transmissions, where all media must eventually go if they want a future audience. The public is finding its voice in ways that have little to do with old concepts of public television, and the medium needs to change radically to survive.

Or not. Local stations could stick with the formula that generates 85 percent of funding and make it work. Unhook the federal tether and use local donors' money to serve the local area. The people, as individuals or foundations, already give most of the money. They should feel at least half of the programming is generated locally and aimed straight at them. If local stations want to buy national programming, they would use their membership and local foundation and university money to seek material from providers rejuvenated by new competition.

The counterarguments have become as old as the programs. This nation will not be funding public television with European-style dollars anytime soon. A new tax on other media to better fund PBS is about as likely as Howard Stern hosting "NOVA."

It is time to search for new ideas rather than hunker bitterly behind the old ones.

Staff writer Michael Booth can be reached at 303-820-1686 or mbooth@denverpost.com.

Copyright © 2005 The Denver Post

We Live In The Age Of The Hoax

True or False: WMDs existed in Iraq, major conflict in Iraq has ended, runaway brides are sweet young things, amputated fingers are often found in bowls of chili, OJ Simpson is innocent, and Michael Jackson is a wholesome, cleancut guy. If you believe all of that stuff, I have some beachfront property in Yuma, AZ for sale. If this is (fair & balanced) mountebanking, so be it.

[x The New Yorker]
TRY THESE FUN HOAXES
by Andy Borowitz

Buy a pie at a pie shop, carefully remove the upper crust, and then gently lower a family of live gerbils into the pie. Replace the crust and storm back into the pie shop, indignantly pointing out the five little heads poking up through the crust. Collect ten million dollars and appear with the gerbils on “Larry King Live.” Repeat in all fifty states, with different pastry-rodent combinations so as to elude detection.

Go to a frozen-yogurt shop, order a medium cup of vanilla, and then punch your index finger through the bottom of the cup so there appears to be a human finger in the yogurt. After demanding to see the manager, threaten to sue the yogurt chain for ten million dollars, making sure to tell him that you know Larry King. Note: Keep your finger very still during all of this, because if it wiggles even slightly this hoax has no chance whatsoever.

Order a bowl of chili at a fast-food restaurant. When the chili arrives, angrily complain that there is no human finger in the chili, despite the fact that you specifically ordered one. In the ensuing argument with the manager, shout the words “chili” and “human finger” for all in the store to hear. You will probably not get ten million dollars this time, but if you play your cards right the manager may pay you a little something just to get you to leave.

Get a bunch of your friends together, ring O. J. Simpson’s doorbell, and tell him that you are “the real killers” and that you are surrendering to him so that he can finally stop searching for you. Get his reaction on videotape and sell it over the Internet.

On the eve of your bar mitzvah, tell your parents that you are converting to Catholicism. Say that you no longer want to be referred to as Seth Graubman and insist that they call you Francis Xavier Graubman. Force them to cancel the reception at the Lefkowitz Jewish Center and tell them you want to fly to Rome for an audience with Pope Benedict XVI. Just as they are pulling into the psychiatrist’s driveway, tell them it was all a big joke and that you were Jewish all along. They will be so relieved they will finally break down and buy you a PlayStation Portable, which is all you really wanted in the first place.

Tell the authorities that you were held at gunpoint and abducted by a nationally famous runaway bride. Say that during the hostage drama that followed you read to her from “The Purpose-Driven Life” and “The Da Vinci Code,” and that during a particularly boring chapter of the latter book she finally let you go. It will be her word against yours, and since her credibility is already shot, everyone will believe you. Testify at her trial and score a book/movie deal; become best friends with Ethan Hawke after he plays you in the film.

Convince the leaders of the world’s only superpower that a Middle Eastern nation is loaded to the gills with weapons of mass destruction. Tell them that some broken-down old vans there are “mobile weapons labs,” and persuade them to spend billions of dollars on an invasion and an occupation. After they scour the country for the weapons and come up empty, shrug your shoulders sympathetically and take over the oil ministry.

Tell the international community that you are merely performing a “routine cleaning” of your nuclear reactors and that you have no intention of harvesting nuclear material for the purpose of making weapons. Then, when no one is looking, lob a test missile into the Sea of Japan. You will not get ten million dollars or a book/movie deal or an appearance on “Larry King Live” for doing this, and you will not become friends with Ethan Hawke, but sometimes you have to do a hoax just because it’s so damn funny.

Andy Borowitz, a former president of the Harvard Lampoon, is a regular humor columnist for The New Yorker, The New York Times and TV Guide.

Copyright © 2005 Conde Nast Corporation