Breathless

Television just keeps getting better and better and this May's sweeps is proof of the networks' ability to keep coming up with quality programming. I'm sitting in front of the TV right now, glued to the set, as it were, watching some moron hold his breath. That's the premise of the show. The guy is going to hold his breath for nine, count 'em, nine minutes.
It seems something has gone terribly wrong. The chains holding brainiac down are malfunctioning or something. He could die. And, of course, no one has thought to try and save him. Obviously. What would that do to the ratings?
They just showed the guy in his little bubble. I swear he looks like he's breathing to me. But maybe he hasn't gone under yet. I tuned in late. They're playing some recording of him telling how he does it. He puts his whole body to sleep, his tongue, his toes...he doesn't mention his brain, but I have a feeling it's kind of in a semi-permanent sleep-like state.
Oh goody. It hasn't started yet. I guess this is an hour-long show. Just think about that...sixty minutes devoted to a guy who will hold his breath for nine minutes. The only premise for an hour long show more ludicrous would be a show featuring a bunch of suitcases and contestants would have the suitcases opened one at a time. That would be riveting, must-see TV.
And just think, the month of May is just getting started. They had the Seventh Heaven series finale tonight. I can't watch it. I have diabetes.
Then there's that TV movie coming on tomorrow. It's about bird flu. Hey, I love those tragedy movies, but did anyone ever stop to think that watching people with flu is not quite as exciting as watching tornados twist through town or watching glaciers move into Los Angeles? Somehow the idea of two hours of watching people sneeze and blow their noses until they die just doesn't cut it for me.
Supposedly, the story has Richmond as ground zero for the plague. What you wanna bet that hundreds of locals will call in sick Wednesday morning, just to be on the safe side?
Back to the breath-holding show, they say this David Blaine has been living in his gold fish bowl for 176 hours. I hope they don't do a closeup of the water. I mean, well, I think you know what I mean. Humans can be a lot more disgusting that gold fish when it comes to waste removal.
I guess this electronic version of a freak show is going to keep me tuned in, as much as I know I'll hate myself in the morning. I want to watch for the same reason a lot of people watch NASCAR. And, it's not to watch autos racing around a track.
They have a doctor standing outside the fish bowl. He's explaining how we'll know if this idiot has passed out. I'd say when his tongue hangs out and his eyeballs pop out of his head we'll have a pretty good idea something has gone wrong.
It's getting ready to start. The crowd is going wild. Lincoln Center is not generally the site of such classy entertainment.
Well, I'm going to go watch. I'll be back in nine minutes, or when the guy dies, whichever comes first. I think I'll hold my breath along with him.
Oh what the hey, I can type and watch. I think I read that if he succeeds, he will go into the Guiness Book of World Records as the world's most stupid human (still living).
It's coming up on four minutes. I need a breath, but I'm holding mine in support of the guy. My toes are alseep, but that happens all the time when I sit in one position too long.
He's at five minutes and the crowd is going beserk...not as beserk as David Blaine, but beserk. I need a breath. I don't think I can go another three minutes.
I think he's having a seizure. Oh, too bad, he didn't make it. I guess the crowd can still hope for brain damage, but, really how could you tell?
They're administering oxygen. The crowd is cheering him...cheering a loser. And really, isn't that what the May sweeps is truly all about.
Blaine is crying. I think he's so out of it he thinks he accomplished something. He did. He brought thousands together to watch him fail. But, hey, they say he has lived underwater longer than any other human. I guess mermaids are disqualified.
Now he's being cheered for walking. I wonder if I can get a TV deal for holding my nose nine minutes. I'd still be breathing, but I think that might be a record for the longest anyone has held his nose.

I've Already Used Every Applicable Pun I Know

You know, in all seriousness, I think Richmond's Mayor, Governor Doug Wilder has become obsessed with this Maymont bear thing. Rumor has it that he spent weeks roaming the forests of Western Virginia (not to be confused with West Virginia) looking for an orphan bear. I don't think I'd recognize an orphan bear if I saw one. I surely would not wait around to see if Papa and Mama Bear are anywhere around. But, then that's why he's the mayor.
But Wilder isn't content with just bagging (so to speak) a bear, he now is totally immersed in a contest to name the bear. I have some ideas on that. And, no, I'm not suggesting Dougie as a name.
I think there are ways to combine that cutesy, friendly bear name with a warning to parents who visit the park that you don't want to let your child get in the cage with the bear. So, how about Bobby, The Baby-Biting Bear? What would be cool is to get a baby doll, dismember it (fun in itself), and take pictures of the bear cub with arms and legs sticking out of its mouth. Post those pictures all around the cage and chances are slim that Junior is going to try and pet Bobby.
You could smear a blood-like substance on the bear's mouth and teeth. It should be totally non-toxic. We definitely don't want to take a chance of causing Bobby any harm. But wait till the kiddies get a look at Bobby's blood-stained face. Nothing says "Hey kids, keep your distance," like sheer terror.
Another idea (and don't worry, I have thousands) would pay honor to the mayor and, at the same time, send a subliminal message that this bear may be worse than the one that devoured the little kid a few months ago. Why not name the new bear "Woody, the Wilder Bear"? You get it? Clever, huh?
Or, what about Maimer, the Maymont bear? It's not as friendly as Bobby or Woody but it still sends a message. I'm not in favor of scaring little kids just for the fun element. But, in line with Wilder's love for bears, a name that conjures up the idea of danger will, in the long run, protect our little cub from suffering the same fate as the previous two bears.
I think you can tell I have a deep love for our animal friends. I was heartsick yesterday when I spotted a dead deer cub alongside I-64. It was like a Bambi cartoon gone terribly awry. With my years of entering the "Draw Blinky" matchbook artists' school application, I couldn't help but pull over and try and draw a picture of the expired deer. I still can't get the nose just right, but I'm trying.
I've never been accepted in that "Deer-Drawers Artist School." And that hurts. But, this blog is not about me. It's about my love for animals. I'm no Doug Wilder, but I do care. But enough for now, my wife is fixing me venison and eggs for breakfast, and I'm famished.