Dear Otus,
I was saddened when you died in 1992, but encouraged by your occasional reports from heaven that all dogs (and cats) go there, where there are squirrels to chase and all the fields are Elysian.
Disclaimer: Fayetteville-born Otus the Head Cat's award-winning column of 👉 humorous fabrication 👈 appears every Saturday.
I've often wondered if you guys get, like, super high-def TV reception and what's popular on the tube?
-- Jerry Mandering,
Little Italy
Dear Jerry,
It was wholly a pleasure to hear from you and to have the excuse to enlighten you on the celestial afterlife.
I was peacefully catnapping the other day when all hell broke loose over in the Media Center. Mind you, when a citizen of these parts reports "all hell broke loose," it's still to be taken (usually) figuratively.
We heavenly critters are reminded from time-to-time that the literal possibility exists of all hell breaking loose should Armageddon occur. You would not need me to inform you if that happens. It would become unpleasant long before I had the opportunity to tell you about it in this space.
So there I was minding my own business when this unholy ruckus erupts. Not that there is much difference between an unholy ruckus and a holy ruckus. The decibel level is approximately the same, but the sanctified ruckus is often performed in Latin and there are monophonic Gregorian chants involved.
This commotion, however, was an unusually raucous diaphonic cacophony of discordant baying and wailing. It sounded like a cross between bagpipes and Justin Bieber.
I wandered over and discovered four large cherubim and a couple of lesser thrones sitting on a violently distraught corgipoo who had been trying to watch the big-screen TV.
It turns out the Celestial Satellite Dish was on the fritz (again) and had been taken offline by Speedy Seraphic Service, the in-house maintenance and janitorial arm of the ministering spirits.
Well, the pooch was fit to be tied. And so she was. Thus confined, she calmed down a bit but was still obviously in a state of distress. They tell me she was going through "Behar's Affliction," a condition of painful withdrawal symptoms similar to "Ripa's Complaint," both of which occur when those addicted to daytime talk and tabloid TV are denied their daily fix.
Our satellite dish is a marvel to behold. As you would expect, it's state-of-the-art and can pick up every channel on earth. Literally. When that sucker conks out, the only thing you can get on the rabbit ears is public television, and that's fuzzy.
There's nothing worse than needing a shot of Judge Judy and getting Sesame Street. It's unnerving when you need Lauren Lake's Paternity Court and The Steve Wilkos Show and all you can get is Curious George and Arthur.
The dog's obvious psychological discomfort got me thinking that in the miasma quagmire of enmity, animus and acrimony caused by the current presidential campaign, those embroiled in the political imbroglio and destructive discourse have lost sight of the therapeutic value of the sleazier aspects of syndicated daytime TV.
I mean, how desperate for 15 minutes of fame does one have to be to appear on Paternity Court or Maury? Those folks are so pathetic, you feel better just by watching them.
The Jerry Springer Show is nothing if not cathartic. In Monday's Season 26 premiere, a woman claimed her boyfriend had been sleeping with her sister. And how much better did we all feel after the slapdown when Shakeara talked shade and smack and put the hurt on Janesha?
On Wednesday, Kenzie held a grudge toward her former roommate and friend Anika because Anika slept with Kenzie's boyfriend, Logan. Shame!
On Thursday, stripper Daija suspected that her boyfriend was cheating on her. And on Friday, Ajla's fiancee Khalilah freaked out when Ajla admitted she faked her pregnancy.
Naturally, all parties had to be separated ("Jer-REE! Jer-REE! Jer-REE") by beefy security guards when it came time for the daily scripted confrontation.
Between Judge Faith, Judge Alex, Judge Hatchett, Hot Bench (with judges Tanya, Patricia and Larry), Paternity Court, Divorce Court, Judge Mathis, People's Court and Judge Judy, central Arkansas viewers can tune in at 5 a.m. and go 10 hours feeling validated and normal. Daytime TV is a purgative public service.
Until next time, Kalaka reminds you that sleaze is a small price to pay for making America a better place.
Disclaimer
Fayetteville-born Otus the Head Cat's award-winning column of
Z humorous fabrication X
appears every Saturday. Email:
HomeStyle on 09/24/2016