How long has it been since the Pope died? Today it occurred to me that they didn't endlessly blabber on about him on the news. Nothing against the guy, really, I don't know him either way. I'm just not Catholic and it doesn't really make any difference to me. Other people like me, who aren't Catholic, do they care? It makes me wonder why I'm supposed to care. Because I'm pretty sure that I'm expected to care because he was on the news all the time.

Of course, I'm tired of seeing Michael Jackson on the news too, and he sure aint the Pope. Wait a minute, now that the Pope is dead they both have that weird pallor in common, the really bizarre clothes, and, of course, Michael is on the stand for going after little boys so...maybe I shouldn't pursue this any further.

I remember very clearly the last time Michael Jackson was being accused for molesting little boys. I was pregnant and after three months of puking, I graduated to six months of doctor-ordered bed rest.

Being told you can’t get out of bed or you and your child might die is a daunting responsibility. At first I thought, no big whoop, I’ll lie around and watch TV. Lots of people do it. I can finally see all the Gilligan’s Island I want.

I was 23 and very naïve. Spending a day on the couch now and then is fun. Being forced down is another experience altogether. No volleyball, no mall, no mountain biking, no hiking. No drinking, no visiting friends, I missed my job at USC, outings were confined to my almost daily visits to the doctor. But at least I could watch TV.

Then it happened.

Gilligan’s Island was pre-empted by Al and OJ cruising the freeways in the white Bronco.

There was nothing else on except for OJ.
There was nothing else on except for OJ.
There was nothing else on except for OJ.

Who was happy by all this attention on OJ? Michael Jackson. Did you notice how as soon as the media started following OJ around, everyone seemed to forget about Michael Jackson’s case? He was able to kick the whole thing behind the curtain, stick his hands in his pockets, and nonchalantly sidle away as he quietly whistled to himself.

Meanwhile, it was just me, OJ, and my giant belly. Day after day. I sent my husband out to rent me movies but he apparently shopped at Hell’s Video Store and came home with winners like Rancho Deluxe and Tucker. I couldn’t read since my preeclampsia gave me mind-numbing headaches. Same goes for drawing. There was only so much Bach and Madonna I could play on my portable keyboard, and once I started my birds would squawk for hours. I was stuck. I had to make do with network television.

The only bright spot in my world of media was the launching of the Conan O’Brien show. Since I was in a perpetual fog from not moving, sleep was virtually out of the question. But I had my Conan. And a few hours later I could watch Good Day LA.

In the beginning, Good Day LA was a funny, original show. Check out the kooky news people! Antonio Mora, Dagny Hultgren, Susan Lichtman, Tony McEwing, and Mark Thompson made a hilarious team.

It evolved over the years and got bastardized into what it is today, the two stupid bitches and Steve Edwards. Mark Thompson managed to hang on during this line up for a while but he got bumped off to evening weather. It makes me wonder what goes on behind the scenes over there. I imagine some sort of pissing contest.

But why the loud-mouthed, histrionic drama queens? Don’t they know they make us, womankind, look bad? Does the world not want to see clever broads on TV? Why don’t they just put Kathy Griffin on Good Day LA and get it over with?

Please, please, please…don’t present women to the world this way. My daughter is ten now and I don’t let her watch stupid women on TV. I don’t want her growing up thinking that talking over people, brandishing insults, belching, and shaking her ass for the camera is an option.

Which leads me back to Michael Jackson. I wonder if something else is going to come along to shake him down from the media spotlight. Or is he finally going to have to see this ugly beast through to the end?

The new Pope is pretty old. Don’t give up hope, Michael.

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