I need to rant.

The insipidity of MTV poolside "specials" where future skin-cancer victims strut what they undoubtedly would refer to as their 'stuff' in front of lascivious cameras in t-shirts and khakis, tank tops and miniskirts, bikinis and speedos, mugging, jiggling, jiving, spasming to tuneless drivel, believing with every fibre of their skim-milk yogurt bodies that this is my 15 minutes, look at me!, discover me! leaves me breathless, sickened, and despairing.

Who watches this vomitus? Is this the legacy we leave for future generations, the offal that we commit to digital record for all time to come?

I'm not a cultural snob, nor do I usually care about the shite that the TV channels squeeze out of their fat collective arses, but sometimes I despair. I really do. There's so much quality out there, so much that doesn't get watched, read, heard, played, eaten, drunk - appreciated - nearly enough, and that deserves a better fate than to linger in obscurity when MTVs foul spew rains into every home across the globe.

It's sad. It really is. And there's only one weapon against the onslaught of crap (unless you go undercover, poolside, and bring an Uzi - but don't say I sent you):

Don't.

Don't watch, read, listen to, play, eat, drink crap. Not even for a laugh. There's so much good stuff out there, so much you haven't yet experienced, that you shouldn't waste your time on the poisonous filth that permeates our culture.

Choose life.

Plant a boot in mediocrity's groin.

"Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

(Another day: Fiction is life. The world is a story. Discuss.)  ¶ 21:23