Priorities

Television shows sell Cymbalta, Viagra, Budweiser, US Army recruitment propaganda, cars, gas and shit that makes you fat if you eat it.

A twenty-two minute comedy carries eight minutes of commercial programming to fill out a half hour slot. Twenty six percent.

One out of every four minutes devoted to ensuring that you hear the words they want you to hear a hundred times a day. Not including the product placement and ads embedded into story lines. Drumming away at your memory with yogurt and Toyota family transport.

But, if you want to get your druthers up about something, by all means rail at 30 Rock for showing a guy possibly fucking his sleeping wife. At best, it shows a classless dude. At worst, it depicts rape. Okay. Sure. Go with the "it must be rape" thing. That's the answer.

That's the real awful, here. The fictional depiction. The pretend.

Not the real exploitation, not the world consuming degradation of environment and human relations. Not the world bestriding military colossus, enforcing the the capitalized occupation of human existence. Not the power. Not the courts and the law threatening violence to those who don't have property fetishes hardwired into their memories.

Worry instead the plots of comedies. That'll show how serious and concerned with human suffering you are...