I was watching this TV show, which many people already have had their share of, namely America’s funniest home videos.
I laughed hysterically when the golf ball bounced back and nearly became the third one on the unlucky golfer. I nearly peed in my shorts when the entire choir collapsed with the stage and even felt a rush when the cat just wouldn’t quit with the piranha in the living room aquarium, but there were some video clips that get my ire. It’s those ones where you know that the kid on the skateboard is going to lose it on the handrail and scrape his face on the cement below. What’s funny about that? The other ones I don’t particularly enjoy are the children who you know are in pain after wiping out on the swing or just got the bat in the back of the head from little or big brother.
Who in his right mind would submit the child they’ve reared for two years to ridicule like that? Can you imagine how they will feel 10 years from now, when their moniker might be “flung from the swing” or “dropped on the head”? I can only guess what I would have been called if I was caught doing the “poopie” and it was broadcast world wide. I don’t think that there would have been a rock big enough to crawl under, today. But, these days, fun is of the second we enjoy it and fond memories should suffice, or does it? Videography as we know it can bring instant fame or shame, to the knowing and the witless. That’s why Allan Funt of Candid Camera was such a big hit, that millions of people could laugh at the follies of an unsuspecting (and usually camera shy) prey. These antics are all prepared and the fun is anticipated, but AMV goes a little further and most videos are unanticipated. That’s the main reason why I watch the show, every chance I get, that some Joe who-you-know will get it in the end.
Another thing that gets me madder than a mosquito in a morgue is that at the end of the show, they always seem to pick the least funny of all the clips as the winners. Am I the only guy with a sense of humour, or is it just that I don’t jive with the trailer trash shows. Jerry Springer et al, is made of just that, trash TV. What if we had our own show, can you imagine the titles? “I’m the daddy and I don’t know who the mother is” could be a good one, after the annual tourney. Or, “I sipped more than I should have at communion, and now I’m a religious alcoholic,” or “Mommy, why does it hurt when I pee?” The only problem with the trash TV shows is that the bouncers seem to get more action and glory than the cowering host, who hides in the safety of the howling audience.
The idea of having our own television show may just be around the corner, if the intrepid JBCCS gang have their way (which I hope they will). Yep, live regional TV bingo is just around the corner and I’m hoping a Cree version of AMV will be on the wish list. How about a nightly news hour show with Gnarly Gnash or hockey night in Eastmain?
The Grand Chief could send Christmas wishes from the comfort of a cold mitchuap and roaring fire roasting turkey sigabon to add. Maybe I can get too far with fantasy, but hey, that’s where all the best ideas come from, the fertile mind (depending on what it’s fertilized with).
