Program scripts from week of July 30, 2012
My name is Jay Phillippi and I've spent my life in and around the media. TV, radio, the movies and more. I love them, and I hate them and I always have an opinion. Call this the View from the Phlipside.
Stars Don't Earn Stripes
We have come upon another moment where I wish I could have been in the pitch session for a new TV series. The pitch session is where the folks with the bright ideas come in and try and convince the people with the money to back their show. It’s the moment when you need to be able to sell a concept because that’s probably pretty much the only thing you have. It’s a high stakes game on both sides. For the idea people it’s the chance to actually be employed for a little while. And for the money folks it’s the gamble on whether or not they will make money or just see their investment disappear like water down the toilet.
In this case I would have loved to been in on the pitch session for NBC’s upcoming series “Stars Earn Stripes”. I’d be willing to bet that there was some mention of the old “Battle of the Network Stars” series that ran from the mid-’70s to the late ‘80s. This version would involve recognizable names like Dean Cain, Dolvett Quince, Nick Lachey, Picabo Street, Laila Ali and for no apparent reason Todd Palin. And it would be co-hosted by General Wesley Clark! It’s a name droppers delight.
If you haven’t heard of this show you might be puzzled by why the co-host is a former Army General. Well that’s where this gets a little uncomfortable for me. Go to the web site and you’ll figure it out quickly. The stars are shown carrying AK-47s and firing a .50 calibre machine gun from the turret of a Humvee. Yes, this is war as entertainment.
And suddenly I’ve got a problem. Despite the fact that I played soldier as a child war is not a game. The physical training that our Armed Forces go through is not just to improve their physical health. It ‘s to make sure that they are able to do the incredibly difficult job we sometimes ask them to do and have some chance of coming back alive. I come from a Navy family, my dad was on active duty aboard an aircraft carrier in the Mediterranean the day I was born. Even though he served in peace time he still lost a friend during his tour. While I’ve never served I have great respect for those who have and are.
Making what they do some kind of game show for celebrities strikes me as disrespectful. Trying to pretend that war is a game for our evening amusement strikes me as rather sick. Stars don’t earn stripes. Veterans do. I’ll take a pass on this one.
Olympic Love
Well I guess I should have known better. a couple weeks ago I noted my disenchantment with the commercialization of the Olympics and the insane level of enforcement that was going on in the U.K. during the Games. It just felt like the wonder of the Games that so enthralled me as a child had disappeared.
Of course all it took was a couple minutes of competition and I was hooked. Over the weekend while I was visiting family they flipped on the Olympics. Long distance cycling, boxing, volleyball, both beach and indoor, water polo and I was hooked. I saw some of the major sports too - gymnastics and swimming mostly. I’ve never been a fan of basketball and I’m certainly not one of the current version of Olympic hoops so I skipped the kinda sorta Dream Team.
In the end what I love about the Olympics is learning about sports that I don’t normally watch. It was my uncle and me watching water polo and trying to figure out what the green line and the red line projected on the water meant. We thought maybe you couldn’t take a shot from outside the green area but almost immediately somebody did. Never did figure it out. Or trying to understand the fine points of libero play in volleyball. The real allure of the Olympics is the novel and unknown aspects of sports we only see every four years. It is the amazing fluidity of swimmers and gymnasts who make the incredible seem easy. It is the stories of the athletes who still have to make amazing journeys for their brief moment in the spotlight.
I am still not convinced that this modern, commercialized and professionalized version of the Olympics is really superior to the vision of the Games immortalized in the movie “Chariots of Fire”. There are flaws in that version as well but there was a simpler joy that I think some of the games may have lost. At the same time there are few more compelling stories than watching an Olympic event where the upstart catches the champion and becomes the new champion.
So I will continue to watch the Olympics for the things that make them great and pray that the crass commercialism never truly spoils the Games.
New Old People
This one is going out for some of my younger friends and family. Seems to mostly affect folks around or just past the age of 30. So if that describes you I have a little wisdom I’d like to share with you all.
I think you’re officially becoming old people.
Here’s why - I’m starting to hear people in that age bracket follow in the footsteps of their parents and grand parents. It’s that pivotal moment when you turn on the radio or hear something being played by a member of the generation younger than you are and you say “That’s not music!”. In this case the offending genre is something called Dubstep.
Now I’m a sort of mid-level old guy so I had to go look Dubstep up. According to the folks at Wikkipedia (the fount of all knowledge) Dubstep is an electronic dance music with a heavy bass and drum line, tight production, clipped samples and limited vocals. Literally means nothing to me but there you are. It’s the hot new thing and it is driving some folks around the bend.
Of course what’s funny is that it’s just the latest in a long line of musical stylings that have branded “not music”. Rap music - not music. Rock and Roll - not music. Jazz - not music. Igor Stravinsky’s classical piece “The Rite of Spring” was considered so awful by some folks at its debut that an actual riot broke out in the theater.
It’s like a rite of passage. That moment when you are confronted with the latest popular movement in the Arts and you just can’t control yourself any more. Suddenly all of your forebears, your parents and grandparents and great-grandparents come bubbling up in outrage and revulsion. It’s an unmistakable sign. For every generation there will be the inevitable attempt to explain why it’s different this time. That YOUR music was revolutionary or evolutionary or just way cool but this - this just isn’t music.
You might as well hang a sign around your neck that says “I’m old”. It’ll be OK, trust me.
Call that the View From the Phlipside.
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