Self-Worth Good, Inflated Ego Bad

As a woman raised "old school" by a hard working "DQI" (Don't Question It) family, working my butt off is not a foreign concept. I have done more than my fair share of all-nighters and 16-hour-plus workdays.

But since the economic downturn circa 2008, making a decent living seems to have become more of a herculean task. The survivors of downsizing often question whether they were really that lucky to hold on to their jobs at all, because they're now doing the work of two or more of the laid-off employees.

Usually "higher-ups" only seem to know what they don't want but never seem to know exactly what they do want.  Their beleaguered employees suffer in the fallout, trying to satisfy their conflicted bosses; personal lives and health suffer, raises of any significance appear now a perk of the past.

Experience, expertise and aging are frequently the kiss of death. Instead of being paid for an acquired skillset and years of focusing on their jobs, worker bees are either forced to work for far less than they are worth or are shuffled out of a job so "young blood" can skulk in and work for (comparable) peanuts. (Except, of course, the young'uns utilize the job for the bare minimum of skills they need to move elsewhere as soon as they can.) 

Longevity and dedication to a job, industry, or business is simply not rewarded like it was even a decade or so ago.

Everyone is replaceable. Whether you want them to be, or not. If you don't think so, take a look at the entertainment/news business.

One of the most over-inflated egos to hit the morning news-entertainment genre is Josh Elliott. His entrée onto Good Morning America was scattered and teary after saying goodbye to his buddies at ABC "brother station" ESPN. He appeared to be a super-sensitive doting father and overall loveable big lug. But there was so much more brewing under the surface—and not much of it good. (If you want the gossip about his personal exploits, just Google it—it's there in volumes and at least some of it has to be true.)

At a time when my friends in the news business have sacrificed nearly every semblance of normalcy to stay in the industry for which they have been honing their skills, they're lucky to make half of what they were making ten years ago. That is, if they have a job at all. Largely because many of their fresh-faced newbie counterparts who think they know it all can afford to work for less because they are probably still living at home with Mom and Dad. They then milk the job for contacts and status and quickly move on, without little afterthought.

Many think—just like Oprah—they're going to be a household name. (Lara Spencer gave it a go at The Insider after she first left GMA, only to return. While her re-debut was a bit frenzied, with some uncomfortable moments with Elliott as they initially tried to outdo each other for attention, she has settled in much more comfortably and quietly re-signed her contract. She'd already learned her lesson.)

The idea of being a household name is an almost laughable notion, considering the fact that many viewers can't remember anchor-reporter names half the time. Then a lot of media outlets tend to have a clone-closet of similar-looking alternates (e.g., the Berman-Tapper-Harris-Stephanopolous quadruplets and Golodryga-Faris-Vargas triplets on ABC). 

Not that an astute or attentive person couldn't tell the difference among each of these reporter-anchors as credible, skilled journalists, but they all physically resembled each other to the point that ABC hoped you didn't care enough to appreciate each of them for the unique individual journalists they are. (Eventually Berman and Tapper moved on; Faris doesn't seem to be returning after maternity leave and is not currently listed in the ABC News list of talent.)

But taking all this into consideration, adding the chaos that is the television business, and Disney's historic penny-pinching ways, Elliott had the unmitigated chutzpah to ask for $8 million during his new contract negotiations when his present salary had been $1.2 million.  Nearly six times his going rate to watch an almost-creepily-child-hugging, daughter-obsessed clod shuffle around GMA everyday? He's just not cute enough to make up for his downside.

No, thank you. As a former journalist myself, as well as a loyal viewer who watches seven days a week (pretty much since the show debuted), I'm thankful GMA didn't take the bait. So off Josh goes to NBC Sports. (The rumors he was going to be a regular Today Show anchor—reportedly planted so that GMA would cave to his asking price—have since been verified by Today to have not been based in fact).

News hit Twitter Sunday night (3/30/2014) that Elliott was joining NBC. He didn't even bother to return to GMA for a classy goodbye come Monday. (Was he afraid he'd cry? I'm sure he would have—at least for the cameras.) ABC simultaneously announced Amy Robach—a proven news pro and survivor on so many levels—would be taking his seat on the anchor desk.

Ultimately my choice would be Ron Claiborne, who in my opinion, has the class, style, charm, credibility, and chops to "fill the man void" and keep GMA from looking like The View with poor George trying to keep the girls in line. (Although I wish they could have held on to Sam Champion, who is has left a huge hole in their morning crew.)

The moral here is where I started: Everyone can be replaced. And unlike Charlie Sheen replacing Michael J. Fox on "Spin City," giving Elliott the old heave-ho is an excellent move by ABC/GMA. 

Maybe ABC will now throw some of the cash they saved into the pockets of their behind-the-scenes production staff. They've earned it.

Update: GMA continues as #1 in morning news/entertainment shows sans Elliott, with numbers rising ever higher. Paula Harris has returned from maternity leave and continues to contribute.

Overload

One of the downsides of having an empathic nature is that even TV shows and the trials and tribulations of their characters can leave me feeling for another's loss or pain. 

Then there's Flight MH370, the Seattle mudslide, recent fires in NJ (Pt Pleasant motel & Edison elementary school--both supposedly caused by a discarded cigarette), and the "little pockets of pain" all over the world that devastate families and communities. 

Sometimes being totally media aware can be draining. 

All we can do is pray, offer strength and hope, and thank God for every moment we have a semblance of peace in our lives.

And turn off the flow of information rushing at us--at least a few seconds.

All this being said, I still don't believe Joss is really dead.

No Tears for Oprah

Unless you have been under a rock and/or don't watch TV, it's impossible to escape the fact that Oprah (Winfrey) is ends the network run of her talk show this week after 25 years on-air.

I will preface these points by saying my words here are not about being a hater. I respect Oprah's accomplishments and believe she has worked hard for everything she has. For the most part, she appears to have a good heart but has suffered from some misguidance as she's gone about her career.

Although it may be overstating the obvious, Oprah deserves props for bringing our attention to many issues that might have otherwise gone unnoticed. However, I jumped off the Oprah bandwagon a few years ago. You will figure out why as you scan through the list below.

(Vogue Managing Editor) Andre Leon Talley. I stopped watching Oprah when her guest was this pompous arbiter of all that is fashion and womanhood, who was able to declare, unchallenged: "A woman is nothing without a pair of Manolos in her closet." Now as we all know, the Talleys of this world are pretty much paid to promote "high fashion," "haute couture," or whatever they're calling it these days. (Frankly, I call it misogynistic, size-biased, overpriced, budget-killing "stuff," at best.) If a woman needs fashion to feel like a woman, she should take a big step backward and find some real meaning in her life because it sure isn't in her closet.

Oprah made the Talleys of the world that much more powerful and never used her journalistic skills or impartiality to make valid points contesting such ridiculous assertions. Yet in a world with such increasingly precarious economic fragility, the need for more practical positions is becoming glaringly obvious with each passing day.

The hypocrisy in declaring the importance of "angel networks" and "now you know" and being aghast at the number of families going into debt due to "overspending" were clear to me, if not to the rest of her fans. I wrote, I expressed my concerns, no one paid attention. So I stopped paying attention too… to Oprah. I just couldn't stand the ridiculousness of the contrasts.

Target audience. In my opinion, although Oprah is indeed a proud Black woman who has never forgotten her life growing up with modest means in Black America, her target audience has obviously been middle to upper middle class white women. Many people of color have remained faithful fans over the years but in my opinion, I don't really believe Oprah has consistently used her juice to fully embrace and serve those who are still struggling with the kind of life she had been living before she started on her road to stardom.

To me, if anyone needs unending support and guidance, it's those trying to find a way out of despera­tion or a place from where they don't believe they'll ever emerge. Let's just say Oprah could focus a little more on those who seek direction and support than catering to those who already have the advantage of being able to tune in to her daily.

Commercialization. Those "My Favorite Things" segments have largely been focused on items embraced and affordable mostly by her middle to upper middle class devotees. While those episodes seem to be exciting and entertaining to watch—not a dry eye or seat in the audience—they were really hour-long commercials featuring pricier products that were more trendy than practical. It's not like Oprah paid full price for every item out of her own deep pockets; there were advertising trade-offs by the companies involved and lots of freebies for the privilege, and so on.

Actually, when any show concentrates on a certain person or group of persons that then receives huge rewards for their experiences, there's always that bittersweet sense of exclusion everyone else feels… as if they haven't done enough to benefit, they aren't worthy. Truth be told, I've stopped watching most shows like that because I'm just an all-exclusive kind of chick and I feel like others are being exploited for my entertainment.

Celebrity. In such a ridiculously celebrity-focused society such as ours, I'm sure topic-driven shows had to take second place to celebrity-driven shows. This no doubt included pressure from the network and staff. But Oprah took a turn somewhere along the line and her shows became more about fabulousness than real people. If someone with her juice didn't try to upset the apple cart and push the boundaries, then her mission to be real is still left somewhat unaccomplished. In a world where (literally) 1000 people can be bought for the price of one high-in-demand Hermes bag, Oprah still has some explaining to do for some degree of selling out.

Even if Oprah had taken her thyroid issues to a public audience more conscientiously, she could have made a significant difference for so many viewers. I contacted the show years before she was diagnosed because of what I saw to be an overwhelming prevalence of autoimmune diseases, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, and similar medical conditions often categorized as "hypochondria" or "imagined." There seems to be astonishingly little information offered by broadcast media to help sufferers to understand what's happening to them and what can be done about it. Ironically (and tragically), it is largely Oprah's target audience that become primary sufferers from these conditions and could benefit the most from this kind of attention. The one episode or two done on Oprah's condition was so much more about her than about the condition.

Money. Again, Oprah deserves her billions, although I admit I giggled at her tear-laden declaration that her life has been so "enriched" by her audience. We should only see a drop in the bucket of the riches she has accumulated since her first show aired 25 years ago. But here's the reality: By having her own cable network (OWN—Oprah Winfrey Network), she stands to multiply her billions, especially when the time comes, I have no doubt, she announces that "The Oprah Winfrey Show" will see a new life on OWN.

So Hasta la vista, Oprah. Congratulations on your achievements. I know the networks are sad but I'm sure you're not disappearing off the face of the earth, either. Paraphrasing what your old pal Arnold has said: "You'll be back."

Rewarding Bad Behavior

Will there ever again be a time when being famous doesn't include drama, drinking and dumbing down? Even when I hung around stoned hippies at Bethesda Fountain (in Central Park), we valued people who exhibited some level of intelligence and inimitable talent. Now it seem as though anyone capable of ignoring cameras while immersed in obnoxious behavior beyond measure has become a superstar and takes home more money than they can count for the privilege. (And I do mean that literally.)

It's beyond me in every way. It's not an age thing. It's a "What's the attraction?" thing.

Reality television had a level of appeal in its infancy. We felt like voyeurs, sharing an intimacy with "real people" or celebrities behind closed doors. Now it's so obviously staged and very often, staged quite badly. Gene Simmons Family Jewels, Season 1? Fantastic. I fell in love with him. Not because of KISS but because he has a business mind that makes Trump shudder. But Season 2 of Family Jewels was so obviously scripted that it was nauseating. Then it got worse.

The Real Housewives franchise is an extraordinarily embarrassing portrayal of the worst women—and the worst in women. The reals are hideously fake. I mean, I get it. Everyone has ulterior motives--selling products, selling themselves, angling for their own series, etc. But watching someone like New York's Countess de Lesseps—who actually seemed interesting—eventually lower herself to the level of a poor man's Rhianna, physically hurts. Really. I have a pain in my chest just thinking about it.

Then of course Atlanta's Nene is everywhere. (Sadly enough.) Atlanta's Kim Zolciac is ridiculous. Whether it's wigs, music singles, or earplugs, it doesn't matter. Whatever she's selling, I am not buying. Flat-out embarrassing, all the way around. I can't be the only one who thinks so. I'm no Bethenny Frankel fan but at least she deserves some credit for marketing a usable product sold at a relatively reasonable price (SkinnyGirl low-calorie alcohol drink mixes), then handed over most of the business to Jim Beam for as much as $11 million. (Try to zero-in on that figure… very sketchy data.)

The Kardashians bring me to tears. I'm actually shaking my head incredulously as I type this. Lovely girls. Walk the red carpet, smile, pose. Great. But other than that? Not an ounce of talent among them. That Kim was encouraged to make a music single and host a network television special is nothing short of mind blowing. But then she shines when compared to sister Kourtney's performance on "One Life to Live." Kourtney was reported as saying she "felt like a prostitute" when shooting her segments. A loaded line if ever there was one. Less than a month later, the soap—on-air since 1968—was canceled, effective January 2012.  Thanks, Kourtney.

If you think I'm just hating or venting for the sake of bitching, here's my real problem: In addition to the fact that the concept of "quality television" is becoming an oxymoron as a result of the influx of these "superstars," people now seem confused as to what makes for a "quality person." The louder, brasher, most obnoxious wheel gets rolling and money is thrown at them. Why should anyone even bother to strive for decency?

Then there are those with obvious, credible talent who lack the good fortune of bumping into Ryan Seacrest and being turned into media icons. Don't you find it the least bit sad that a natural born showperson may miss his/her opportunity because these marginal characters were hogging up the spotlight?

A pathetic precedent has been set. Values have been skewed. Appropriate behavior is careening out into the stratosphere. Everyone wants to be spectacular and lavish and have everything designer, flashy and ostentatious. So few are willing to put any work into achieving it. Nor do they think they need to do anything to achieve it. Except behave outrageously.

Just because you don't agree doesn't mean I'm "hating." I'm really not. I'm stating fact. The day Rutgers University decided it would hand Snooki $32,000 to speak and only give Nobel-winning novelist Toni Morrison $30,000 was the day any semblance of sanity died for me. After all, the message "Study hard but party harder" is worth $6,400 a word, isn't it?

It's unlike me to state a problem without a resolution. But I only have one: Pray. Pray for our souls. Pray for our sanity. Pray for reasonableness and levelheadedness amongst the people of the universe. Even if you're an atheist. Pray.

NASCAR Has Nothing Over Sheen

Everyone with a thought and a pen is using both to speak about the fascinating public breakdown that is Charlie Sheen. As fields of snow across the U.S. melt into floods of destruction, so goes he. I can't resist the urge to join the legions who feel they have to say something on the issue.

There is a Polyanna side of me that truly wants to believe this otherwise seemingly spoiled megalomaniac speed freak is actually auditioning: Delivering a stunning portrayal of a man on the edge to prove he really can act. That in his extraordinarily overpaid and under-demanding role on Two and a Half Men, he's been relegated to a stereotype character, reaping millions but no satisfaction for the true art that can be acting.

As with most intelligent, narcissistic madmen, there are many nuggets of truth in Charlie's words—although their numbers and worth diminish the more he speaks. (I've experienced the same phenomenon with Gary Busey and Charlie Manson over the years!)

Sheen points to the ridiculousness that is Hollywood—the exploitation, commercialization, spoon-fed dreck that the masses devour without question or distinction. Although he overuses the term exponentially, he calls those not on his side "trolls." I vigorously challenge the overly broadened interpretation.

He espouses motivational rhetoric in a diarrhea-like fashion, leaving droplets of imitation liquid gold along his road to self-annihilation: "Winning!" "Pain is a myth." "We beg for nothing. Beggars beg, winners win. Period. The end. Suck it." "Apocalypse Me: The Jaws of Life."** He claims to record almost everything now because he is "tired of losing all my gold into the ether sphere of f---ing stupidity." Clearly he has managed to morph Tony Robbins into Gadhafi, transforming words meant to empower into histrionic ramblings.

Sheen reminds me of the plethora of stories I heard when going to *Gam-anon meetings: The more you win, you still have to lose. The truth is Charlie can tattoo, scream, and sky-write that he's "winning" all he wants but in reality, he's seeking a bottom that continues to elude him. If his bottom doesn't rise to meet him post haste, he'll undoubtedly careen to his demise.

Parallels to Peter Finch's character in Network—a brief reference Sheen himself made during his Howard Stern-style "Sheen's Korner" on Ustream (or as he admits, "a shameful trainwreck filled with blind cuddly puppies")—are almost too obvious to mention. Maybe in his speed-addled mind, Sheen is determined to go out in a publicly maniacal manner.

It appears the consensus of the masses about him is running (very generally) 40% "sad," 40% "mad," 20% "stop talking about him already!" I must admit that I can't stop watching. I'd like to believe it's purely journalistic interest that keeps me transfixed on the man and the meltdown but I honestly haven't searched my soul enough to verify that. Everyone can insist "no more drama," yet overall there is nothing more spellbinding at this point in time than watching "The Charlie Show." One way or another, he is getting his wish: Whether he's acting, melting, insane, or high; prophet, demon or dirtbag, he's got our attention.

For the billions of people who scrape by each day on a meager dollar for much harder work, it is hard to summon much sympathy for this man and his $1.8 million/episode salary that—if the producers are to be believed—have been riddled with outtakes of Charlie's flubbed lines and unsteady posture. Still, we who continually struggle to stay on-target and really are "winning," (or "working at winning" a day at a time), would rather be us than him any day.
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*A fellowship for family members of gamblers. (A long-time boyfriend of mine had the problem, so I attended meetings for support.)

**His proposed autobiography title.

What's *Your* Agenda?

Okay. I admit it. There’s an ulterior motive as to why I blog and tweet and Facebook. I have an agenda: Help others benefit from many of my life experiences without having to make all the mistakes I’ve made. Someday I might have a product to market. So I put myself out there and share. A lot.

Republicans claim Democrats/Obama have a Socialist agenda. Democrats claim Republicans have a partisan, conservative, big money agenda. Politics is pretty much “all about” agendas; look in the dictionary under “agenda” and there are likely to be pictures of a donkey and an elephant.

Then there’s television. ABC pushes Disney both overtly and subtly (e.g., "General Hospital" character Brook Lyn sang "When You Wish Upon A Star" during Karaoke night at the show's pub); NBC makes equally sure they endorse things “Universal-ly.” If you have network Video on Demand, you know they unabashedly push their programming and you usually can’t fast forward/rewind your way around it.

Inasfar as the programs themselves: There are some that receive my full attention and others are background noise while I’m online. An in-between were Bravo’s NY & NJ Housewives series. Then I realized: EVERY cast member had an agenda. It was one thing when it was about a family business and a little shameless self-promotion but then everyone “went Hollywood.” Now this housewife sells jewelry, that housewife sells clothing, another is selling sex tapes, the most classy is selling a disco song/video, and as a subtext, they’re *all* selling Botox. Their vicious attacks and backbiting left me empty and sad at how far (especially) women will go to embarrass and humiliate themselves (and each other) for airtime. I stopped watching the shows before their respective first seasons ended.

The “Bachelor[ette]?” More background noise. If the goings-on were anymore slimy, I’d have to staple myself to my seat. Every participant is out for something and it’s rarely love. Most sickening of the recent dregs is Frank Neuschaefer—one of the last three bachelors vying for Ali Fedotowsky. He had a "sudden epiphany" and realized he was still in love with his "ex-girlfriend Nicole."

In full view of the TV audience, Nicole played into a sickeningly phony love scene with Frank as they declared their revived love for one another. He then flew to Tahiti to let Ali know about his change of heart and left the (vulnerable?) Bachelorette momentarily heartbroken. (Who was only too ready to tell all on Jimmy Kimmel and George Lopez.)

I mean… Seriously? Who freakin’ does these things? Is there anything at all minutely real about TV at ALL these days? These people make my skin crawl at first sight. How could anyone find them remotely interesting/marketable? Sadly, someone, somewhere is likely to take the Frank & Nicole storyline and turn it into something. Or maybe that is how Frank will attempt to accelerate *his* agenda—making it as a screenwriter—which was reportedly his sole purpose for being on “The Bachelorette” in the first place and was never really estranged from Nicole. (Translation: Nicole knew Frank was going on the show to further his agenda, supported him in the effort to be something he is not so he could be something he wanted to be. Ewwww.)

I initially thought Jake (the last bachelor) was "the real deal" and was disgusted when he chose Vienna because she was so unlikeable. Then he went on "Dancing with the Stars." When that didn’t give them enough airtime, he and Vienna very publicly broke up and I realized they actually deserved each other because they both had equally high yuck factors. (Chris Harrison is applying for a Ph.D. in relationship counseling--or sainthood--as I write this.)

Then, of course, "Bachelor Pad" debuts August 9th on ABC. Or as I like to call it: "Invasion of the Bachelor/ette Bottom-Dwellers." The most despicable cast members (like country singer Wes from Bachelorette Jillian episodes) play Twister for money as they behave badly/provocatively. (Jillian, BTW, has now officially split with fiancé Ed.)

Yeah, I know… Stop watching if it annoys you. And yes, I know it says something about me that I watch at all. Stupid. I can’t even claim “ignorant” because I *do* know better. (But then what would I write about?)

It has never been clearer that virtually everyone in public view has a price and to further the value, an agenda is designed.

Writing about this subject was prompted by today's New York Daily News article about a poll that declares life is downhill for women after age 31. That, after age 31, women lose—or believe they start losing—their looks and sense of self.

Admittedly, my reaction is skewed because I’m way on the over side of 31 and I’ve had a stick up my butt for a while since the world seemed to stop listening to me altogether when I turned 50. But that’s personal. (Doesn’t keep me from having a voice and using it to scream from the highest mountains—or setting fingers to keyboard—to get my point across.)

Supposedly 2000 women were polled by QVC—a television/internet shopping network that sells beauty, vanity, and fashion for a premium. You know, the shopping channel whose agenda it is to make sure that we 31+ women (more likely their target consumers than our younger counterparts) realize we’re useless without them? Hence, we must become their uber-consumers and take advantage of their fabulous products so that we can ease the pain of merciless aging, lest our remaining 50-years-or-so be rendered totally and utterly insignificant.

In a world full of (eventual) karmic reconciliation, those of us with an agenda will answer for whatever actions we’ve taken to exploit our agendas. So far so good for me. QVC—which cannot possibly be doing as well in these lean financial times as in the past—will hopefully find they've viciously and self-servingly attacked women’s vulnerability to its core (while doing everything within their capacity to cultivate that vulnerability) and will have a serious karmic debt to pay.

BUT… in the meantime… They’ve lost me as a customer. There’s a lot I cannot control in this world. (Painful to admit and sometimes harder to accept.) This I can.

Care to join me?