Who is the tool?

My (relatively) new domestic arrangement has exposed me to habits and patterns that sometimes confound me. For instance, my roommates have the capacity to be entertained by television shows that I’ve never considered viable sources of amusement. I’ve seen things that have shocked me with the most banal and ridiculous examples of human behavior. I had no idea that both cable and network programming had reached its current depths. Neither would I have expected intelligent viewers to settle for the poor quality product put in front of them.

Still, I’ve been told repeatedly throughout my life that folks value escapism, and apparently the more mind-numbing it is, the better it satisfies the singular need of the audience. Certainly the choices made in my household illustrate that point. The MTV music awards prove to be a meaningless and contrived spectacle, meant to appeal to the lowest common denominator. Reality shows offer insipid dialog, loathsome personalities, and situations that would strain credibility if penned by a scriptwriter for (even) the dullest of dramas. And consumers are meant to laugh at the most cliché jokes of today’s so-called sitcoms.

If I’m in the room when the idiot box is on, it’s sometimes impossible to ignore. As a result, I’ve learned that L.A. is still filled with self-absorbed, sub-human, empty shells that cynical producers put forth as fascinating subjects of study. I find it all insulting to the social condition. But obviously there are plenty that disagree. So I make my best attempt to find something redeeming about whatever’s on. Otherwise my hatred for my fellow man will know no bounds. Most of the time I’m thwarted in my efforts.

Yesterday I discovered “Tool Academy”. The set-up for this show is a supposed nationwide search for the ultimate “bad boy’. Unsuspecting dolts audition for a competition that will identify the “Alpha Males” of America. But within the first (or so) episode they realize that a trick has been played on them. Their girlfriends have submitted them for consideration as the worst mates in the nation. And all the video footage that they willingly had shot of themselves mouthing off and bragging becomes evidentiary material. They get to sit beside their disconsolate honeys as the very worst parts of their personas are displayed for a live crowd and America at large.

To add insult to injury, the creators of “Tool Academy” have enlisted the aid of an imperious relationship counselor with a distinguished British accent apparently meant to mask the vast level of stupidity the proceedings represent. And so it goes- a parade of self-delusion, an awesome lack of common sense, and a cavalcade of absolute nonsense. Is it representative of the quality of intimate pairings of the populace? If it is, then evolution has truly reversed itself, and our species must soon inevitably cede to another classification of animal. Our citizens are literally retarded, emotionally and otherwise.

Could it be that this show actually serves some sort of useful purpose other than the empty calories derived from the titillation of digesting extreme obnoxiousness? Is it a useful guide in what to avoid in dealing with your significant other? Perhaps some unfortunate viewers will see reflections of their own lives in the hapless guys and gals onscreen. I suppose if even a single woman decides to dump her misbehaving man after noting his resemblance to one of these buffoon contestants, then some redemption for its existence might be proven. Yet it’s easy to counter that anyone who has chosen to invite the presence of such a creature into her life deserves the burden of its continued presence.

Chuck Klosterman, "IV- A Decade of Curious People and Dangerous Ideas" (2006)

You have to be either extremely pretentious or tragically hip to bill your own book as containing "dangerous ideas" in the contemporary media environment. Chuck Klosterman certainly fits into the latter category. Throw him in the bundle of latter day pop culture critics that insist on injecting a self-conscious and irreverent post-modernism into their work. I'm under the impression that IV has been named to reference the number of books that the author has been successful in publishing previously. It's also apparently a shout-out to what Klosterman considers the genesis of the heavy metal rock genre- the Led Zeppelin album of the same name. That's a heady presumption for someone analyzing the state of modern music.

It's easy to make fun of a guy like Klosterman, who commits his rather formidable wit and imagination to topics as inane as Brittany Spears, classic rock tribute bands, and the movie Road House. In fact, a quick Google search will provide plenty of exposure to the vast pool of negative reaction to Klosterman's antics. But all of this should be taken in context. The periodicals that the Minnesota-native has written for have been an odd mix of mass market pap and respected establishment vehicles (GQ, Esquire, The Washington Post, Spin, The Believer, etc.). Sure, his attitude is decidedly populist, but that kind of approach is increasingly in vogue in this post-ironic environment.

That's not to say that Chuck Klosterman is without a certain degree of cynicism. He is perfectly capable of identifying the worst instincts of the American collective consciousness. Still he seems to be beholden to a Midwestern respect for the everyman. In one essay, he absolutely rejects the notion of a lightly-held "guilty pleasure". He points out that one may actually derive enjoyment from something morally unsound, but that's not what people mean by the term. Klosterman is stridently defensive about his tastes. He insists that his love for Billy Joel, KISS, and other bad hair metal bands is sincere. The last thing he would feel compelled to do is apologize for his preferences.

What you have to understand about this collection of essays is that Klosterman takes his subjects seriously, regardless of whether he is analyzing the contributions of a white basketball player, the significance of Johnny Carson, the lyrics of a British hip-hop artist, or a rock-and-roll cruise featuring the likes of REO Speedwagon, STYX, and Journey. If mass consumption disturbs you, it is likely that the themes throughout IV might leave you a bit cold. This is a guy who suggests that one of society's greatest needs is more substantial video game criticism, and he is convinced that anyone that fills that niche will be wealthy. But he'll also let you know that he doesn't necessarily have time for that.

It would be foolish to say that Klosterman's writing is devoid of compelling insight. Oftentimes he is provocative and original in his ideas. There may be a high level of superficiality, yet the spectrum of social commentary includes a wavelength for which he is ideally suited. And he is clever. One of the features of IV that I found interesting was the inclusion of inquiry-based introductions for each piece. In order to draw the reader into what may be a litany of observations about minutiae, Klosterman posits some "very big questions". An example: Would you rather be anonymous, or remembered for something completely peripheral to how you lived your life? It seems to me that Chuck Klosterman is hedging his bets.