The Utter Decline of Modern Civilization and Sense

The following is information on the FCC's new Policy for Public Radio and Television broadcasting. My own personal comments will follow each various part in bold/Italic.

So, this past week, the FCC notified broadcasters that fines for indecent material would be increased up to ten times.

Up to ten times. TEN TIMES! That's a lot. That's like upping the cost of an ice cream push up from $1.00 to $11.00.

I don't know why I made that comparision. I just like Ice Cream push-ups.

The legislation passed the House 379-35 on Wednesday after moving through the Senate last month on a voice vote. Before this "bump", the maximum fine for so-called "indecency: was $32,500 per violation. With the increase, a single fine can now be as high as $325,000.

Three Hundred Twenty Five Thousand dollars.

For a spoken word(s). For some pictures.

Imagine if it was for something that really... ya know... HURT someone?

This penalty does not apply to cable broadcasts or to satellite broadcasts, so HBO, SHOWTIME and Howard Stern are safe.

... for now.

However, you notice... as before, the FCC has neglected to specify just what "indecent" is defined as.

According to the AP, President Bush welcomed the passage of the Broadcast Decency Enforcement Act and promised to sign it into law. He was quoted as saying: "I believe that government has a responsibility to help strengthen families.This legislation will make television and radio more family friendly by allowing the FCC to impose stiffer fines on broadcasters who air obscene or indecent programming."

Translation? "I believe that since I have managed to screw up so many things in this country in my two terms I wanted to go for even more long-reaching effects by forcing my beliefs upon you all. Don't like it? Well, next time try becoming a rich, white, privledged, born with a silver spoon in your mouth. good for nothing. Then YOU can do whatever YOU want! We need more Howdy Doody on the airwaves instead of Black Women ripping off their clothing at football games! Heh. I said Doody. That's funny stuff. Anyway, who cares about inflation, and the impossible to handle gas prices, and the out of control health care system? THIS IS WHERE THE ISSUE IS PEOPLE!"

You know... Janet Jackson's partly exposed breast didn't offend me. $3.41 for a gallon of gas... now THAT offends me.

The approval of this bill culminates a two-year drive to crack-down on "sexually explicit material" and "offensive language" on public radio and television following the Janet Jackson infamous "wardrobe malfunction" during halftime of the 2004 Super Bowl.

My question is this. Almost every time George Bush, Condoleezza Rice, Dick Cheney, Hillary Clinton, Oprah Winfey, Bill Maher and the entire cast of The View open their mouths, I'm offended. To me, that translates as what they say is Offensive. So... where is MY voice in all of this? How am *I* being protected? Can't anyone shut these idiots up?

L. Brent Bozell, President of the Parents Televison Council of People Looking to Determine What's Best for Your Kids Whether You Agree or Not (Ok, I made that last part up), remarked: "The FCC will now have the authority to impose meaningful, punitive fines when the indecency law is broken. We hope that the hefty fines will cause the multibillion-dollar broadcast networks finally to take the law seriously."

Translation? "The FCC now has an even larger platform to overstep the bounderies of which it was created for by now being able to slap down senseless penaties upon broadcasters so that the airwaves can be shaped into something that would make the Smurfs seem like child porn. I mean, look at those little blue bodies anyway... half naked... never wearing shirts... all those males and only one female? I know what's going on there at night... dirty little blueskins. Sweaty little, nasty blueskins all sweaty and nasty and sweaty and working those nasty little parts... oh yeah... nasty... work it... work it... you like that don't ya? errr... I mean... and furthermore, these penalties, despite the fact we have yet to define them at all, leaving all broadcasters completely in the dark to what actually constatutes an infraction, will help us drag the public, kicking and screaming, into a world that *we* determine is proper. Sieg Heil!"

Wow. Amazing what a little translation can do. Be afriad. Be very afriad.

"This is a victory for children and families," said Senate sponsor Sen. Sam Brownback, R-Kan. The higher fines were needed, he said, "in a world saturated with violent and explicit media."

So... um.. exactly WHAT familes is this a victory for? Not *my* family. Not *my* children. Is it a victory for Senator Brownback's family? I guess it is. Look how happy *he* seems to be. Then again, he must need some excitment... Glen Miller radio broadcats and Little Orphan Annie serials can only take up *so* much of his free time.

Under FCC rules and federal law, radio and over-the-air television stations may not air obscene material at any time, and may not air indecent material between 6 a.m. and 10 p.m. when children are more likely to be in the audience.

Yeah... like my Children are up at 6 AM listening to the radio and waiting with baited breath for someone to utter the word "boobies". I'm kinda wondering... why aren't these "children" in bed at 6 am? Why aren't they in school by 9 am through 3 pm? Why aren't they in bed by 8:30 PM or so? Just what the hell are these kids doing to be able to avoid all of these things? Damn... when I was a kid I had NO freedom compared to these kids listening to the radio and watching TV non-stop between 6 AM and 10 PM. What a life kids live today.

The FCC says indecent material is that which contains sexual or excretory material that does not rise to the level of obscenity.

Translation. "ANYTHING WE WANT IT TO BE... bitch."

The legislation, while facing little resistance in Congress, had detractors warning of problems in defining what is indecent and of the erosion of First Amendment rights.

"What is at stake here is freedom of speech and whether it will be nibbled to death by election-minded politicians and self-righteous pietists," Rep. Gary Ackerman, D-N.Y (or in other words... ONE OF THE ONLY SANE MEN IN THE ROOM), said in a statement. He recalled how after the Super Bowl incident, numerous ABC affiliates refused to air the acclaimed war movie "Saving Private Ryan" because of its rough language.

This is a perfect example. God Bless Gary Ackerman.

Without having the slightest idea of what constitues "indecent", the broadcasters are forced to err WAY on the better side of caution. Thus, cutting their own legs out from under them. What if I told you I could go and find "indecent" parts of the simplest of things like SUPERMAN: THE MOVIE, TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES, SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS, AND THE FAIRLY ODD PARENTS? I could you know. It's all there. At what point is the line even drawn? The FCC has the ability to go and wait three months and then fine someone for commiting a "violation" every day for that three month period and charging MILLIONS of dollars in fines that could cripple any broadcasting station... and in the end, the broadcasters hadn't the SLIGHTEST idea that they were anywhere NEAR commiting a violation. For God's sake.... this is as unconstituitonal as is gets people.

The FCC has also actively responded to the increase in complaints about lewd material over the airwaves, with total fines jumping from $440,000 in 2003 to almost $8 million in 2004.

So are we to believe that the airwaves suddenly became more "lewd" in one year? Or should we gather from that information that the FCC is jst getting totally out of control? It would be interesting to see just WHO the complaints came from and what areas they originate from.

The agency recently handed down its biggest fine, $3.3 million, against more than 100 CBS affiliates that aired an episode of the series "Without a Trace" that simulated an orgy scene. That fine is now under review.

Notice that no actual sex or nudity was shown and that the show, which is clearly NOT a show for Children, was aired at 10 PM which is not only outside of the 6 AM to 10 PM timeframe dictated by the FCC, but is also a time that any decent parent would make sure their young child (say up to 14 years old) WAS IN BED! I have a great idea. How about you fine the parents of the kids that were exposed to these shows?

Listen. I'm a parent and I worry a lot about what my kids see, hear and experiance. However, I refuse to allow someone else to choose for me what they will be exposed to. It is up to me to raise my children right so they can learn to filter out the bad shit from the good stuff. No one else has the right to make that determination. No one. Just to be safe... I have copies of CATCHER IN THE RYE, LORD OF THE FLIES, A CLOCKWORK ORANGE and other various books on hand to have my children read when they get older. There's no telling how many of these books will be "indecent" once they get of age, and I have every intention of letting them make up their OWN minds on this sort of material.

As for people like George Bush, Sen. Sam Brownback, L. Brent Bozell, American Family Association founder Don Wildmon, FCC head Honcho Kevin Martin and the other people who want to deterimine what we should be allowed to watch and listen to (and eventually read and see on the internet). I have to say... I choose not to drink your milk... you bunch of Book Burning Nazi Cows.

Who are you and what are you doing in my life?

Fatherhood.
FatherHOOD.

Sounds kind of like some sort of criminal act doesn’t it?

I wasn’t supposed to be a father you know. At the time that it came up, I was twenty-four and dreaming of a plush and adventurous lifestyle as a big time newspaper investigative reporter. My wife and I were barely married six months when she came to me and said, a matter-of-factly, “I want a baby.”

“And I want a Mustang convertible, but that doesn’t look likely in the near future now does it?” I remarked with a grin. I knew my wit would win her over and get us into the year and a half wait that I had tried to negotiate in the months before our wedding. The grin was confident and winning… or so it thought. She frowned with the ability to wilt roses that only a wife of many years can muster. I was amazed that she had mastered that frown so quickly. I tried to rally.

“How about something we’re better equipped to handle right now like an elephant instead?” I asked.

The wit wasn’t working; she held her ground. We launched into an intelligent and adult debate about it. It went something along like this:

“Baby.”
“No.”“Baby”
“No!”
“BABY DAMMIT… BABY!”
“NO! Not yet!!”
“BABY! BABY, BABY, BABY!!!!!!”
“NO! We aren’t ready!!!”
“I WANT A BABY NOW OR I WILL MAKE YOUR ENTIRE LIFE AS INHUMANLY MISERABLE AS POSSIBLE STARTING FROM THIS VERY MOMENT!”

Now how could you argue with logic like that? It’s not like she couldn’t come through on that threat, that’s for sure. You haven’t lived through hell until you’ve spent a weekend in a small one bedroom apartment with the spawn of all that’s unholy, and God knows she was prepared to play that part to the hilt. I’m sure she, of course, remembers that conversation quite differently though. In her mind, it must have gone something like this:

“Pat, it’s time to have a baby.”“Ok honey! Get’s get started!” Cue the flowery music, seg-waying into a neo-like soft core porn love scene that only could have been scripted by the world’s foremost authority on romance.

Not bloody likely.

I have to admit, the argument I was presented with wasn’t totally wrong. Christine argued that “You never have enough money to have a baby...” and in a way, she was right. It’s not like I didn’t WANT children, I just thought I (and we together) needed more time. I also wanted to have more than our present total in the bank account. A dollar thirteen cents wasn’t going to get us a nice highchair, that’s for sure.

Oh sure, you think I’m exaggerating, but I’m not. I still have the bank statement. I save it to remember the days that I had a whole dollar plus in my bank account.

Anyway, whenever I’m asked what it feels like to be a father, I remember a time I sat down with my first born son, Patrick, to discuss a few worries I had.

“Patrick,” I said settling down on the living room couch with him. “I think you’ve come to the age where we should discuss a few things. I’m concerned with the type of things available to kids via the internet and television and want to explain my feelings with you.”

Patrick looked put-out upon, but sat there and let me continue.

“The world can be a scary place and there are a lot of images and media that you just aren’t ready for. As your father, I feel it’s my place to protect you from them until you’re a bit older and able to make decisions about whether or not you wish to view or experience these things.”

He just stared at me, not saying anything. I went on.

“It’s not that all of these things are wrong, it’s just that you aren’t of the right age yet to be able to filter out the right messages from the wrong ones.”Pat titled his head a bit, still staring at me. He leaned back into the couch and rolled his eyes. I decided to finish up.

“In time you’ll be able to make your own decisions, I just felt you should know about why I’m making this decision for you at this time in your life. Ok?”

Pat laughed and threw his pacifier at my head. He was only ten months old at the time. All in all I thought it was a successful conversation.

My wife was watching, amused from the doorway.

“Very sweet thought,” she said, not trying to hide her smile. “…but I think a little premature seeing that he hasn’t even started walking yet… don’t you think?”

What the hell did I know? I would have looked up “Meaningful conversations and when to have them” in the instruction booklet, but dammit, I didn’t get one. That was my biggest complaint when my son was born. Was I taken aside and filled in on the inner secrets of parenthood? No. Was I given a handbook that covers kids from birth till the day they get a real job and stop shoving their dirty underwear into the VCR? No.

Instead, I was handed a paper suit to wear and about 30 seconds after my son was born, they plopped him in my arms and sent me down the hall. I looked up at the nurse… just what the heck was supposed to do? I looked at Pat… he looked at me… and burst out hysterical crying.
Him I mean… not me.

Although it wouldn’t have been too much of a stretch for me to follow him.

I walked down back into the room my wife had been in during the course of 20 hours of blistful labor. (At one point she told the doctor to get “your fucking hands off” her and told me that it was “all your fault” and I was “never touching me again.” She also discovered how tasty ice chips are when you’ve gone hours without eating or drinking.) I sat down into the chair next to the bed and figured I would calm my newborn son with some soft soothing singing.

Suddenly my mind went blank. I needed a soft soothing song. None would come to mind. In the space of 15 seconds a myriad of songs rushed through my head… I was like a walking advertisement for Lyrics.com… then suddenly what came out was Collective Soul.

Ok, so not exactly the first choice of singing children to sleep… but it could have been worse. Somehow I don’t know how well “Inagaddadevida” would have gone over…

The scary thing was… he stopped crying. He looked up and me with his look that basically said “Who the hell are you and where the hell am I and why the hell is it so cold out here and where the hell is my little warm mini-swimming pool I’ve been hanging out in for the last 9 months?”

I looked back and shrugged. Wouldn’t be the last time he would stump me, just the first.
“Don’t look at me kid,” I told him. “I pretty much just got here myself.”

He gave me a sympathetic look (or was is dismay? It’s so hard to tell the difference when the baby is only about 12 and a half minutes old) and suddenly realized he hadn’t finished his hysterical crying fit. He must have realized he’d be doing a lot of it over the years and wanted to get started on practice and hard training for it as early as possible. So the crying resumed, I picked another song (Pearl Jam and The Police didn’t help too much) and I realized that I needed a little help in knowing just what the heck I was going to have to do to avoid having Patrick turn out to get his head stuck in the microwave or kidnapping Penguins or what not. I needed a little booklet that would cover years One through... oh I don’t know… Twenty-Seven?

Afterwards, when they had taken him to get some sleep and my wife had also turned in for the night, I asked the nurse about the instruction booklet. I wanted to bring it home right away and get a head start on reading before picking them both up the next day. The nurse laughed and gave me a cup of water.

I was gypped.