August 15, 1939, The Wizard of Oz made its big-screen debut and a Hollywood deity was born.
To this day it is an event in some homes when The Wizard of Oz is shown on cable.
The first time audiences ever saw the Cowardly Lion dive through the window after being spooked by The Great Oz, Maury Povich was just two days short of being seven months old. Seventy-Three years later, Maury Povich’s television show is also an event in some homes. Granted, most of us wouldn’t want to visit these homes, but nonetheless, he is celebrated with great vigor by some.
Maury, however, is celebrated for a much different reason than his Year-of-the-Rabbit birth mates who opted for life’s Yellow Brick Road. Maury’s road was paved with the stained couch cushions of America’s voyeurs.
Millions of Americans tune in to The Maury Povich Show/Maury every day, compelled to find out who slept with who, and which who lied to who just to cover it up. These voyeurs sit on the sunken cushions of their couches in nothing but underwear, eating bowls of Froot Loops gazing into a world far different from their own. Millions more watch it every day just to see if the neighbors will be on that day’s broadcast.
“Hey honey, did you see where Earl married his sister? They were both on Murry yesterday and the DNA test proved it.”
Maury, or Murry as many call him, has been on television since the mid-1960s. During that time, he has been on a few very successful shows, including his own show that’s been on the air since 1991.
He’s also married to Connie Chung, so it’s doubtful Maury still does his show because he needs the money.
That leads me to believe he still does it because he likes it. In fact, he likes it so much that at 73, rather than sitting around the house all day scratching his ass, waiting for the grass to grow so he can cut it, or a light to go out so he can change the bulb, he gets up and goes to work. There, he puts on makeup, stands in front of a crowd, and proceeds to exploit the weak.
That ain’t cool. Shame on you, ya bastard.
Maury and NBC Universal Television are the real-world equivalent of the Wicked Witch of the West, unleashing her army of flying monkeys onto the American public. Those evil, flying simians swoop into our homes, eat up our time, suck up our attention, and collect every pair of slippers lying in the glow of televisions coast to coast.
Most of us watch television on LCD TVs, or plasmas, but whichever type television you own, Maury’s show is powered by the rubies of his stolen slippers.
Every time we tune in to hear Maury say, “You are not the father,” we add another ruby to the old man’s fancy slippers and polish up the shoes of the NBC suits as well.
It’s time we all take a step back and get out into the real world to create our own social drama. It’s time to take a chance in life and seek out the scariest looking bar in the neighborhood, go in, have a few drinks, and see what happens.
It’s time to live a little.
The only exception to this is the witch himself, Maury Povich.
My advice to Maury is there truly no place like home, buddy. Why don’t you go there and stay for a while.
We’ll be alright without you.
Disclaimer: Jeremy wants to make it clear the views expressed here are not his own, but that of someone he met online whose views might be completely different. Roxy is indifferent about the content altogether unless her name is mentioned somewhere in it. Acid Pop Cult itself does not necessarily support these views either. Lee’s on his own with this shit.