Think about it

Here’s a thought process I’m betting you never considered: Imagine some songwriter waking up in the morning, stretching a bit, then calling out to the world, “Today, I’m going to write a terrible song. I shall force someone to record it, and place it on an album. Then everyone who purchases that collection will have to listen to it, at least once, before pressing the ‘Skip’ button every time it comes around, for the next thirty years. I will make no money for this, but feel I owe it to posterity.”

You can substitute, movie, TV episode, play, coffee blend, condiment, or drinkable hair tonic, for the word song in that last bit. It really doesn’t matter. What matters is, no one starts out with the intention of creating trash, but a whole bunch of folks do.

As a disclaimer I have to say, this is not the same as waking up and saying you’re going to do something stupid. I wake up proclaiming I’m going to do stupid things all the time. Just last week, I started my day saying I was going to learn to ride my son’s skateboard. A stupid statement? Yes! But on the plus side I met some very friendly doctors. You see, stupidity works itself out. But these created atrocities are part of the public record forever.

Looking back

What brought all this to light is, the fact I was going through my old album collection the other day. I would pick one out, put it on the player and listen. The first tune was good if not great, as were several others. Unfortunately for my ears, there was always one track which just makes you say, “What the crap was that?” I’m not talking schlock here. These are albums by John Coltrane, the Beatles, Led Zeppelin, the Mickey Mouse Club, and Weird Al Yankovic. Supposedly quality artists. But Ouch!

Lennon and McCartney arguably wrote some of the best music of their day, but not every bit of it should of it should have been exposed to the world. It’s not often, but sometimes even a Care Bears cover, couldn’t make these tunes any good. I won’t mention any specifics, for the fear you all might check them out, creating a spike in hits, and cause them to show up in my Spotify suggestions.

It takes real effort

Remember, this stuff isn’t so easy to produce. There are serious processes involved. There’s writing, editing, late nights, focus groups, serious drinking, and recording involved. This means multiple people have to approve the garbage before the world sees it. I just wonder what those creative folks are thinking.

“Hey Frank, we have room for one more song to make this project complete. You’ve got some real winners here. Do you have one more in you?”

“Well John, how about a little departure. I got this one little number which causes my dog to run away screaming, and mothers to take their kids off the streets. It’s hated by churches and prostitutes alike. We should stick that one in there.”

“Great idea! No one can call you cookie-cutter.”

Stop encouraging them

Movies and TV are the same, but different. For some unknown reason creating awful video media is a cherished art. They become beloved cult films. The quote, “That’s so bad it’s good” is used all the time. The problem is it’s a lie. They’re not good. They’re just plain old bad. Giving them a fancy, shmancy, quote, just perpetuates an injustice.

Another thing with movies is; when they write something completely moronic or idiotic, they repackage it under the heading of, ‘Suspension of disbelief.’ Look, accepting the creation of Captain America’s super soldier serum, looking to the sky to see Superman flying by, or having a pet dragon, is suspension of belief. I accept it because there’s a natural fantasy component, and the rest of those movies are really good. The trouble happens when neither of these apply.

At the movies

I went to a big blockbuster film the other day. At one point, our hero had to dive to the bottom of the ocean, under the arctic circle. Super high pressure, and super low temperatures, these are realities, not fantasies. They are as much a fact as the dog throwing up after eating an entire cake. Yes, this statement comes with a lot of experience.

Even the director wants us to know these facts, because they spent thirteen minutes of screen time telling us about them. I timed it. Hey, I told you the movie was boring.

Anyway, during this montage, we were informed of how crucial his high-pressure suit was. It was beaten into the audience, that because he was untrained, he was unlikely to survive even with the suit, all its secret gas mixes, high-tech gadgets, St. Christopher medal, and plushie unicorn he was supposed to snuggle with on the way down. Okay, I’m informed.

This really happened

The thing is when he got to the bottom, and completed the mission, something happened. Who could have foreseen that? I’m guessing, only everybody. So, there he is two-hundred-plus meters under the ice and sinking into an abyss. What does he do? He takes freaking the suit off. I am not lying. He doesn’t even keep the air supply. How am I supposed to suspend disbelief, when they’re the ones who told me it was so important to believe?

By the way, did I mention he’s not even wearing a wet suit. Nope! He chose to wear a Speedo for this little trip. I checked all this. Yes, there are deep water divers who can recover from these depths. But those folks train for years, and all those dives were made in the tropics. The top fifty feet or so are warm. Even then, the divers wore wet suits to help maintain body temperature.

Of course, he had a rescue plan. He had a transponder which would help his people find him. They drove out in a blizzard with sled dogs to his location. How they made it on time we’ll never know. Either way he’s now under eight feet of ice, and his team has to dig him out. To do this they brought an eighteen-inch chainsaw. I’ve never wielded a saw wearing artic thermal gear, but I do know the saw can’t cut an eight-foot-deep hole. It takes time to get rid of the ice. Again, they’re the ones who told me to believe in reality.

It wasn’t supposed to be a fairy tale

No surprises, they find him. He’s frozen solid, has the bends, and his heart has stopped for a time. No problem! His girlfriend can just kiss him, and he’ll wake up. Right? Wrong! This is not Snow White. He would have been better off with that poison apple. The dude is dead. No arguments. However, a couple of kisses and some rigorous CPR later. He wakes up in bed with the chick. No joke!

This isn’t even the end of the movie. He still has to disarm a thermonuclear device, kill the bad guy, save the world, destroy not one, but two, airplanes, fall a thousand feet with a burning parachute, and mug for the camera sixteen times. And people say my writing is unbelievable?

What are these folks smoking??