Horrific news from London, and the cable channels stayed on it for hours. With the film clips constantly being replayed, and the talking heads scrambling for "news" bits, the scenario sucked the life out of any critical or compassionate thinking or feelings.
And now, Sunday, the reporters are standing in gales waiting to bring minute-by-minute coverage of Hurricane Dennis.
With the instant graphics and sound effects, these disasters become intense short stories. For 24 or 36 hours, all is focused on the narrow band of the story. I watch out of fascination, trying to make sense out of this aspect of our culture. Obviously it must make sense to the cable channel executives, for they would not be making these "short stories" if they were not vastly improving their financial bottom lines.
But it also tells us what is acceptable to focus upon. The ravages of Darfur have not surfaced with a snazzy graphic or music. The tsunami recovery efforts are rarely covered, and it has been made quietly clear that the solemn return of our dead soldiers at Dover Airfield is strictly off-limits.
The whizbang graphics and music lull the senses, just as they do in video games. It seems exciting, but it quickly becomes one-dimensional. Yet in a strange way it becomes compelling, much like fast food. One doesn't need to eat that last limp French fry, but we do, and then leave the meal feeling not particularly well fed. And the purveyors of fast food know that we will return to their troughs because they make their wares convenient, fast and inexpensive. This immediacy factor seems to be the underlining theme in our popular cultural endeavors.
Recently I found a fascinating antidote to our popular culture. It is the book "In Praise of Slowness: How a Worldwide Movement Is Challenging the Cult of Speed," by Carl Honoré. This is not just about the Slow Food movement.
Don't rush out to find the book! You will find it in your own sweet, slow pace one day.
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