Grandmothers know when something’s fishy and my television smells like something washed up at the Salton Sea. Whatever it is, don’t eat it, buy it or vote for it. Sounds cynical but there’s hope. After all, a kitchen offers comfort when our world, which consists of beloved television programs and news stories, jumps like Shamu the killer whale into the deep end. Don’t quote me, but ask your grandmother where she hung out during Watergate and she’ll probably say the kitchen. My grams made the best cookies back then. Last week, there were ten ingredients in front of me and I figured it’s time to make meatballs. I’m not talking about oregano, ground turkey, eggs, breadcrumbs, salt, pepper, onions, garlic powder, paprika and ketchup. Certain ingredients compliment each other as in—ten debatable politicians with various levels of spiciness, inspiring me to make meatballs. I mean those guys were hilarious. Whether baked, fried or covered with sauce, picking one for the white house would be like getting Jay Leno back again. Years and years of free entertainment and funny jokes making us laugh. Out loud even. Heaven forbid.
So I changed the station, but came across that show about the male Olympian who is now a glamorous model and his well-seated relatives. What can you say about that show without upsetting someone? How about, I loved her dress but thought she looked better in running shorts. Must be me but I think she’d make a pretty nice candidate. She could get the female voters AND the guys too. Okay, I’ll flip to another station.
But, what’s with war? Cupcake wars, pawnshop wars, realty wars and cooking wars—just to name a few. Scanning the cable guide makes you want to duck for cover and check your ammo supply. Speaking of hunters, there are Alaskan hunters, storage hunters, house hunters and some clowns hunting Big Foot. In the middle of all this is a commercial of a waddling duck spewing stuff about insurance. You almost find yourself wondering if the little guy is safe. Cute little duck should watch out and get some of that insurance in case he comes across those dynasty guys. That quack makes me think he’s hungry and wants some fish. Insurance can be a fishy subject.
Television is already aggressive and the campaigns are still in their infantile mode. Slowly, they’ll crawl onto land telling us why they paid for certain messages. The station managers will repeat those messages over and over until you grab your remote, tossing it above your widescreen, or into it. The alternative is you are hypnotized into believing in fairy-tales and you click on the Cartoon Network or run blabbering for refuge and screaming for Grams. For her sake, I hope she’s in Florida shredding cookie recipes and going deep-sea fishing out of the Everglades. Meanwhile, the election coverage will be interspersed between combat reports about real wars. It will be time to hide in the kitchen and dig into a large bowl of spaghetti and meatballs. Bon Appetit!