Saturday, May 3, 2008

Millionaire Newsreader Fakes Sympathy

© Copyright 2008 Stan Spire

Recently on the CBS Evening News anchordoll Katie Couric uttered something along this line:

You put a few food items on the conveyor belt at the supermarket and your eyes bug out when the total is run up on the checkout register.

As if Katie Couric shops at a common supermarket with the hoi polloi, trying to stretch her budget. It’s said she pulls in 15 million dollars a year for reading the news on TeeVee. It’s more likely that her eyes would bug out from too much Botox.

There’s an anecdote about a politician running for office who said he understood how hard it was for the average family to put food on the table. So a reporter asked him: What does a quart of milk cost? How much for a loaf of bread?

The politician had glib answers to all sorts of questions – except those two.

Hey, Katie -- What are you paying for milk and bread?

15 million dollars a year. Using my calculator from the dollar store, I estimate that what I’m living on is less than .06% of Katie’s modest income. Not 6%. Not .6%. Just .06%.

I love it when one of these wealthy TeeVee journalists go on about the poor, especially when they mention that a small percentage of Americans control over 90 percent of the wealth. These journalists pretend to care, going through the motions without complaining too loudly or forcefully. After all, their corporate masters wouldn’t be happy.

Another phony concern by overpaid TeeVee newsreaders is the high cost of medical insurance for the average American.

Gee, I hope Katie is covered. After all, those treatments to keep her looking young can’t be cheap (even though the results look that way).

May Day Is My Day

© Copyright 2008 Stan Spire

It’s appropriate that my birthday falls on the first day of May. Mayday is the international radio codeword used by planes and ships in distress to request help.

But lately I’m not crashing or sinking – thanks to self-help. I’m treading water while more people also fall in around me. High gas and food prices. The screwed up housing market. Jobs being lost. Welcome to the sea of piss.

Since I’m near bottom – no job, car, or home – I have nothing much to lose.

A birthday can be a time for reflection. Me, I’ve got jackshit to reflect on.

Of course, over the last 12 months, some things have irked me. One in particular was a newspaper profile of a woman discussing her professional and family life. Divorced, she was looking for a special man to date. Ironically, I asked her out on a date some time ago, but after accepting she suddenly decided to cancel. Apparently I’m not special enough.

But for someone like her, no man is. So I cross that annoyance off the list.

For some getting older means being less driven, not as critical, accepting things as they are. It’s called senility.

I accept nothing as it is. But I’ve learned what is worth pursuing and what isn’t worth a leak in the woods. The social scene around here is bleak. Tried a dating club one time. What a joke. A few of the women I met should’ve skipped the dating club and went straight to group therapy. Talk about unreality and unattraction. The best way for a guy to approach dating in this neck of the woods is to combine LSD with Viagra.