LONG BEFORE American Idol proved big ratings could be gotten with people whose only talent lay in egregious self-delusion, I was keenly aware of the entertainment value of reality TV. I mean real reality: the evening news. How well I remember running into the kitchen–I couldn’t have been more than seven–to tell my mother that I had just seen footage of a helicopter crash. Not only was it filmed from the ground but inside the copter itself! News you can use? For sure.
Not that I was a complete non compos. Almost nothing was more fascinating than politics: what else seemed at once venerable yet so easily mocked? So naturally, I’ve always encouraged my daughter to keep a (cynical) eye on current events. Back in 2004, she must have been the only third-grader who could do a dead-on impression of Howard Dean’s “scream” speech. Her take on John Kerry’s funereal bearing was impressive as well. My wife wasn’t keen on Daughter’s nickname for Kerry–Senator Horseface–but I defended it as both satirical and curiously accurate. And at an age when most children sit on Santa Claus’ lap, she was thrilled when Mayor Bloomberg kneeled down to give her not one but two high-fives. “That was like meeting the President!” she gushed afterwards. The autographed photo of the event remains one of her most prized possessions–not that her friends cared at the time. “They don’t even know who Mayor Bloomberg is!” she said, fairly spitting out the words.
