One of the best short films I've ever seen. I might be a little bit in love with TJ Thyne now...
Seriously. Watch. Smile. Be Inspired. :)
Slam Poetry from an Awesome Christian guy about Toms and Life....
Showing posts with label The Media. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Media. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 16
Thursday, October 21
Boys and Girls
So, there's this new campaign called "Fat Talk Free Week". I think their facebook page explains pretty well what they mean:
It was started by a Tri Delta sorority, and is now a national campaign to spend a week without "talking fat". I think it's a great idea! But there are people out there who don't. They say that this promotes an unhealthy lifestyle by telling people they don't need to work out or worry about what they look like. Firstly, I'd just like to point out that almost all the blogs, reports, and articles I've read against this type of movement are from guys: Boys, if you don't support this, shut your damn mouth! Either back girls behind this or get out! I'm not saying boys don't deal with their own self esteem issues, but I'm sorry, boys, you have NO IDEA what it feels like to be a girl. None. At all. So shut up. I'm so sick of hearing about this.
I'm learning how to work out because I love my body, not because I hate it. I'm learning how to eat right because I love me. I'm learning how do everything I do out of self-love rather than self-hate. If people can learn to love their bodies, everything else will fall into place. It's when we start hating our bodies that problems (like eating disorders - including binge eating) occur. See, when I love my body I can say, gosh I should work out regularly. But when I miss a day because I'm busy or sick, I can also accept that that's ok, that maybe my body needs sleep and rest right now more than it needs to burn 400 calories an hour doing an intense workout. And I'm still leading a healthy life.
So PUT A SOCK IN IT guys.
Here's a letter I found a while ago on the TWLOHA page, and I think it's a letter every woman should read, and then write one herself.
Fat Talk describes all of the statements made in everyday conversation that reinforce the thin ideal and contribute to women’s dissatisfaction with their bodies.
Examples of fat talk include: “I’m so fat,” “Do I look fat in this?” “I need to lose 10 pounds” and “She’s too fat to be wearing that swimsuit.”
Statements that are considered fat talk don’t necessarily have to be negative; they can seem positive yet reinforce the need to be thin. E.g., “You look great! Have you lost weight?”
It was started by a Tri Delta sorority, and is now a national campaign to spend a week without "talking fat". I think it's a great idea! But there are people out there who don't. They say that this promotes an unhealthy lifestyle by telling people they don't need to work out or worry about what they look like. Firstly, I'd just like to point out that almost all the blogs, reports, and articles I've read against this type of movement are from guys: Boys, if you don't support this, shut your damn mouth! Either back girls behind this or get out! I'm not saying boys don't deal with their own self esteem issues, but I'm sorry, boys, you have NO IDEA what it feels like to be a girl. None. At all. So shut up. I'm so sick of hearing about this.
I'm learning how to work out because I love my body, not because I hate it. I'm learning how to eat right because I love me. I'm learning how do everything I do out of self-love rather than self-hate. If people can learn to love their bodies, everything else will fall into place. It's when we start hating our bodies that problems (like eating disorders - including binge eating) occur. See, when I love my body I can say, gosh I should work out regularly. But when I miss a day because I'm busy or sick, I can also accept that that's ok, that maybe my body needs sleep and rest right now more than it needs to burn 400 calories an hour doing an intense workout. And I'm still leading a healthy life.
So PUT A SOCK IN IT guys.
Here's a letter I found a while ago on the TWLOHA page, and I think it's a letter every woman should read, and then write one herself.
Dear Body,
I’ve always let some imperfection or another stand in the way of me seeing what you truly are, that you are beautiful. You are a divine creation housing the most valuable thing known to the universe, my soul. I’m beginning to realize that a person’s soul has the capacity to radiate light that transcends all the characteristics that I have been conditioned to believe are flaws.
You naturally tell a story. Your blue-green veins are like a map to where your heart has been and where it is going. The curve of your waist and the shape of your cheekbones tell a tale of heritage and ethnicity. There are crayon markings on the wall somewhere that has measured your height throughout the years. Always returning to the same spot to see how you’ve changed.
Your eyes bare resemblance to nature. They are a deep forest green with golden yellow sunflower flecks. Your faded birthmark, once beet red, brought me shame because all I wanted was to conform. It now reminds me of how unique you are and all I want is to be different.
Your body begins as a story but continues with new chapters throughout your life. Some are chapters of sadness and pain, others of joy, and all of growth. Each chapter a blank canvas meant to be painted by our experiences. Photos are memories but so are our bodies in a way that’s more real, no posing and no fakeness.
I’m realizing these things now, but I’m so sorry that I didn’t realize them before. I’ve done everything I could to destroy the canvas and deface and burn the pages of different chapters.
I’ve waged war on you before; used razor blades to feel and drugs to numb. I’ve used caffeine to stay awake and alcohol to sleep. Abusing the side effects of my prescription drugs like loss of appetite, to deliberately starve myself into making you skinnier. I’ve spent far too much time on a scale that merely weighs your effect on gravity, not the depth of your beauty. I wanted you to look like one of those girls in the magazines.
But in the ruins there is still a canvas. There is still beauty in your brokenness. The faded scars show healing reminding me that even though I’ve been in dark places, I’ve survived and learned and become stronger.
Although the war is over, the world still takes its toll. You have calluses on your hands from me writing too much and concentrating too hard. Yet the words are beautiful and the studying is worth it. You have the ache when it rains from broken bones, and stretch marks from growing too fast. You have burns from jobs and scars from falls. But those experiences were worth it.
Dear body, as I grow older I worry about how you will age. Together we gain wisdom and wrinkles, after being young and beautiful and naïve. The wisdom tells us that the beauty doesn’t subside, it only changes, and more of it comes from within. So I won’t worry when my hair doesn’t look just right, or when I do something stupidly funny and emerge with another scar because you are telling a story. And what would I be without my story and my past?
I’ve always let some imperfection or another stand in the way of me seeing what you truly are, that you are beautiful. You are a divine creation housing the most valuable thing known to the universe, my soul. I’m beginning to realize that a person’s soul has the capacity to radiate light that transcends all the characteristics that I have been conditioned to believe are flaws.
You naturally tell a story. Your blue-green veins are like a map to where your heart has been and where it is going. The curve of your waist and the shape of your cheekbones tell a tale of heritage and ethnicity. There are crayon markings on the wall somewhere that has measured your height throughout the years. Always returning to the same spot to see how you’ve changed.
Your eyes bare resemblance to nature. They are a deep forest green with golden yellow sunflower flecks. Your faded birthmark, once beet red, brought me shame because all I wanted was to conform. It now reminds me of how unique you are and all I want is to be different.
Your body begins as a story but continues with new chapters throughout your life. Some are chapters of sadness and pain, others of joy, and all of growth. Each chapter a blank canvas meant to be painted by our experiences. Photos are memories but so are our bodies in a way that’s more real, no posing and no fakeness.
I’m realizing these things now, but I’m so sorry that I didn’t realize them before. I’ve done everything I could to destroy the canvas and deface and burn the pages of different chapters.
I’ve waged war on you before; used razor blades to feel and drugs to numb. I’ve used caffeine to stay awake and alcohol to sleep. Abusing the side effects of my prescription drugs like loss of appetite, to deliberately starve myself into making you skinnier. I’ve spent far too much time on a scale that merely weighs your effect on gravity, not the depth of your beauty. I wanted you to look like one of those girls in the magazines.
But in the ruins there is still a canvas. There is still beauty in your brokenness. The faded scars show healing reminding me that even though I’ve been in dark places, I’ve survived and learned and become stronger.
Although the war is over, the world still takes its toll. You have calluses on your hands from me writing too much and concentrating too hard. Yet the words are beautiful and the studying is worth it. You have the ache when it rains from broken bones, and stretch marks from growing too fast. You have burns from jobs and scars from falls. But those experiences were worth it.
Dear body, as I grow older I worry about how you will age. Together we gain wisdom and wrinkles, after being young and beautiful and naïve. The wisdom tells us that the beauty doesn’t subside, it only changes, and more of it comes from within. So I won’t worry when my hair doesn’t look just right, or when I do something stupidly funny and emerge with another scar because you are telling a story. And what would I be without my story and my past?
Sunday, May 2
Women and Glee
Alright, I'll admit it, I'm a Gleek. (If you are too, or think you might be someday, and haven't seen the last 2 weeks' episodes, you should not read any further - there are some spoilers!!) I wholeheartedly follow the show. I think it's witty, biting, hilarious, and relatable. I think it deals with important issues, but somehow I walk away from the show feeling uplifted every week. I refuse to make plans on Tuesday nights, so that I can watch the show. I have to remind myself regularly that I really don't need to buy the music the night it comes out, that I really should wait until the end of the first season when they'll come out with a whole album of the music, which will be cheaper (somehow that appeal to logos doesn't overpower my love of good music, and I sometimes give in and buy songs anyways). I think the vocals are fantastic, and the script is original and has started to "push the envelope" with issues. It's a show that I can watch and say, 'hey, that was me in high school! I've felt like that, I've done that, or I've seen that.'
Over the last few weeks, a recurring theme in the show has focused partly on objectifying women, body image, and self confidence. Its an issue that's very near to my heart, as I have struggled with it my entire life, I've watched friends struggle with it, and I've seen what it can do. I fell in love with the boys' new rendition of "What it feels like", with Mercedes' "Beautiful", and with April Rhodes' journey. My heart breaks for them, and soars with them, and I find myself traveling this same journey with them, an invisible bystander who watches with pangs of guilt, remorse, anxiety, compassion, empathy, anger, and almost every other emotion possible. There are many issues that I feel passionately about, but this is one that stands out.
And it was an issue that I thought was progressing well, on a worldy scale, until recently. I thought that, despite the incessant and sometimes unrelenting teasing and attacks on my strongly feminist stance, that people were making progress, that people were aware of the issue, and that many people, both men and women, were working to equalize an unbalanced count of centuries of oppression. Then I met C. He happens to be a guy that I work with (i'm using an initial to protect him, even though I don't really think he deserves protecting…), and he and I disagree on almost every topic you can think of. He regularly attacks me for my religious beliefs, my moral stances on issues, my political views, the fact that I enjoy reading, and the way I think. He takes great pleasure in pointing out holes in my logic, in giving me impossible scenarios, in cornering me, and proving his own intelligence and the black-and-white validity of his own views over others'. He's very good at what he does, and frankly, he sometimes is right. More often than not though, he twists what I say into what he wants to hear, and rarely gives others a chance to fully explain their views. He thinks he knows what he's going to hear before he even asks. Normally, I don't mind. I can stand up for myself, I can handle teasing, attacks, and the endless looks of pity and stupidity from him. I had my walls up, he doesn't know nearly as much as he thinks he does, about me or the world. And nothing he's said has convinced me that he truly is correct, and that I need to repent from my ignorant ways and turn to his cold, harsh, atheistic view of the world. So I let him attack and he takes full advantage. And I don't really mind.
Until this week. This week everything changed. Somehow we got around to talking about body image, in the context of Glee (which, surprisingly enough, he watches regularly). He laughed at my outrage, scoffed at my standards, and seemed arrogantly perplexed when I told him that yes, in fact, the idea that there are people who still think that men and women should not be treated equally bothers me. He then proceeded to tell me that I was, in fact, wrong about what women need. He said women don't need to be told they're beautiful. That women who are more than 5 pounds overweight, who are ugly or who don't fit some beauty standard shouldn't feel beautiful because they're not. He told me that he shouldn't be socially obligated to lie to women about what's attractive (I don't think he's distinguished beauty and hotness yet…), women should not be told they're beautiful, nor should they feel beautiful about themselves if they aren't. He insists that being beautiful SHOULD be objectified, and standardized, and related solely to external attraction. He insists that it's a good thing for people to not have their self esteem "falsely" boosted, that feeling judged and objectified and inadequate and unworthy is a good thing, that it's not ok to tell a woman that she's ok the way she is because in all likelihood there's something wrong with her, something that needs to be fixed before she can be beautiful…. He told me that people are not created equally and that not everyone deserves to be loved. He somehow tied this "falsifying of beauty" to the collapse of America, but to be honest I'd stopped listening by the time he'd gotten to that place in his speech.
I can't express how outraged I am- it's difficult for me to stomach!! It physically sickens me to think of things this way; I didn't let on when he was telling me all this, but I wanted to hit him, and had we not been "on the clock" I would've. I wanted to clock him so hard, to knock sense into him, to tie him to a chair and duct tape his mouth shut and yell and scream and cry at him until he understood. I actually did go home and cry, for what he's failing to see in himself, in everyone around him, and for the hurt it might have caused. I wanted to take all the broken pieces from all the women he's ever objectified and glue them back together. I wanted to explain to him how insanely hard it is to be a girl, how he could never understand how much it hurts, how when people (men or women) objectify and judge other women, it makes ME feel objectified and judged, even if they haven't said one thing about me. I wanted to show him my scars, internal and external, to show him how much pain it can cause, and how much damage it can do. I wanted to make him understand, I wanted to make him feel the way I've felt, the way I know many other women have felt, and then ask him to honestly hold the same stance. I wanted to show him the movie Precious, the scene where she says nobody loves her, and play it over and over again until his heart was shattered for her. I wanted to take a hammer and smash his heart like a mirror, and ask him to put all the pieces back together like women have to do every single day, I wanted to logic with him, reason him into seeing my side but that's the problem that there is no logic to it, it's all about the feelings, I wanted to make him feel it to see it to believe it to hurt it and feel the glory of it when you're no longer restricted by the world's view of you and show him how low and excruciating it can be and how high and beautiful it can soar. I want him to see that all women are beautiful!! But he won't. He refuses to see my side. I want to write him a letter, but I don't know what to say. I want to explain things to him but how does one explain such deep, complex, and vast emotions? How can he ever see my side if he refuses to feel my side?!?!
And so I cry. Because I don't know what else to do.
*Here's the script and a link to a youtube audio feed of the epitome of the last 2 weeks of Glee. Please watch. Or better yet, go to Hulu.com and watch the full episode (if you want to watch just this part, it starts at 33:00)
Mercedes: Hey guys. I'm Mercedes Jones. So most of you know, Cheerios! is about perfection and winning, looking hot and being popular.... well I think that it should be about something different. How many of you at this school feel fat? [Quinn, the pregnant girl, raises her hand]. How many of you feel like maybe you're not worth very much? Or you're ugly and you have too many pimples and not enough friends? [more kids are raising their hands]. Well I've felt all of those things about myself at one time or another. Hell, I've felt most of those things about myself today. And that just ain't right. And we've got something to say about it. And if you like what we have to say, come down here and sing it with us.
Here's the youtube "video" (it's really just the recording)
Over the last few weeks, a recurring theme in the show has focused partly on objectifying women, body image, and self confidence. Its an issue that's very near to my heart, as I have struggled with it my entire life, I've watched friends struggle with it, and I've seen what it can do. I fell in love with the boys' new rendition of "What it feels like", with Mercedes' "Beautiful", and with April Rhodes' journey. My heart breaks for them, and soars with them, and I find myself traveling this same journey with them, an invisible bystander who watches with pangs of guilt, remorse, anxiety, compassion, empathy, anger, and almost every other emotion possible. There are many issues that I feel passionately about, but this is one that stands out.
And it was an issue that I thought was progressing well, on a worldy scale, until recently. I thought that, despite the incessant and sometimes unrelenting teasing and attacks on my strongly feminist stance, that people were making progress, that people were aware of the issue, and that many people, both men and women, were working to equalize an unbalanced count of centuries of oppression. Then I met C. He happens to be a guy that I work with (i'm using an initial to protect him, even though I don't really think he deserves protecting…), and he and I disagree on almost every topic you can think of. He regularly attacks me for my religious beliefs, my moral stances on issues, my political views, the fact that I enjoy reading, and the way I think. He takes great pleasure in pointing out holes in my logic, in giving me impossible scenarios, in cornering me, and proving his own intelligence and the black-and-white validity of his own views over others'. He's very good at what he does, and frankly, he sometimes is right. More often than not though, he twists what I say into what he wants to hear, and rarely gives others a chance to fully explain their views. He thinks he knows what he's going to hear before he even asks. Normally, I don't mind. I can stand up for myself, I can handle teasing, attacks, and the endless looks of pity and stupidity from him. I had my walls up, he doesn't know nearly as much as he thinks he does, about me or the world. And nothing he's said has convinced me that he truly is correct, and that I need to repent from my ignorant ways and turn to his cold, harsh, atheistic view of the world. So I let him attack and he takes full advantage. And I don't really mind.
Until this week. This week everything changed. Somehow we got around to talking about body image, in the context of Glee (which, surprisingly enough, he watches regularly). He laughed at my outrage, scoffed at my standards, and seemed arrogantly perplexed when I told him that yes, in fact, the idea that there are people who still think that men and women should not be treated equally bothers me. He then proceeded to tell me that I was, in fact, wrong about what women need. He said women don't need to be told they're beautiful. That women who are more than 5 pounds overweight, who are ugly or who don't fit some beauty standard shouldn't feel beautiful because they're not. He told me that he shouldn't be socially obligated to lie to women about what's attractive (I don't think he's distinguished beauty and hotness yet…), women should not be told they're beautiful, nor should they feel beautiful about themselves if they aren't. He insists that being beautiful SHOULD be objectified, and standardized, and related solely to external attraction. He insists that it's a good thing for people to not have their self esteem "falsely" boosted, that feeling judged and objectified and inadequate and unworthy is a good thing, that it's not ok to tell a woman that she's ok the way she is because in all likelihood there's something wrong with her, something that needs to be fixed before she can be beautiful…. He told me that people are not created equally and that not everyone deserves to be loved. He somehow tied this "falsifying of beauty" to the collapse of America, but to be honest I'd stopped listening by the time he'd gotten to that place in his speech.
I can't express how outraged I am- it's difficult for me to stomach!! It physically sickens me to think of things this way; I didn't let on when he was telling me all this, but I wanted to hit him, and had we not been "on the clock" I would've. I wanted to clock him so hard, to knock sense into him, to tie him to a chair and duct tape his mouth shut and yell and scream and cry at him until he understood. I actually did go home and cry, for what he's failing to see in himself, in everyone around him, and for the hurt it might have caused. I wanted to take all the broken pieces from all the women he's ever objectified and glue them back together. I wanted to explain to him how insanely hard it is to be a girl, how he could never understand how much it hurts, how when people (men or women) objectify and judge other women, it makes ME feel objectified and judged, even if they haven't said one thing about me. I wanted to show him my scars, internal and external, to show him how much pain it can cause, and how much damage it can do. I wanted to make him understand, I wanted to make him feel the way I've felt, the way I know many other women have felt, and then ask him to honestly hold the same stance. I wanted to show him the movie Precious, the scene where she says nobody loves her, and play it over and over again until his heart was shattered for her. I wanted to take a hammer and smash his heart like a mirror, and ask him to put all the pieces back together like women have to do every single day, I wanted to logic with him, reason him into seeing my side but that's the problem that there is no logic to it, it's all about the feelings, I wanted to make him feel it to see it to believe it to hurt it and feel the glory of it when you're no longer restricted by the world's view of you and show him how low and excruciating it can be and how high and beautiful it can soar. I want him to see that all women are beautiful!! But he won't. He refuses to see my side. I want to write him a letter, but I don't know what to say. I want to explain things to him but how does one explain such deep, complex, and vast emotions? How can he ever see my side if he refuses to feel my side?!?!
And so I cry. Because I don't know what else to do.
*Here's the script and a link to a youtube audio feed of the epitome of the last 2 weeks of Glee. Please watch. Or better yet, go to Hulu.com and watch the full episode (if you want to watch just this part, it starts at 33:00)
Mercedes: Hey guys. I'm Mercedes Jones. So most of you know, Cheerios! is about perfection and winning, looking hot and being popular.... well I think that it should be about something different. How many of you at this school feel fat? [Quinn, the pregnant girl, raises her hand]. How many of you feel like maybe you're not worth very much? Or you're ugly and you have too many pimples and not enough friends? [more kids are raising their hands]. Well I've felt all of those things about myself at one time or another. Hell, I've felt most of those things about myself today. And that just ain't right. And we've got something to say about it. And if you like what we have to say, come down here and sing it with us.
Here's the youtube "video" (it's really just the recording)
Thursday, December 17
Inspirational Non-inspiration
I'm so damn tired of inspiring stories.
It seems like everywhere I turn, there's another one - on the news, in the theaters, on the shelves at bookstores, in the house 2 streets over with the kid who overcame drug problems to be the next rhodes scholar... Every time, there's a formula: introduction, hardship, struggles to overcome said hardship, various setbacks, and then, somehow, in the end, there's a juicy, satisfying, inspiring ending in which Character overcomes flaws and obstacles to be a better person and change the world. When was the last time Hollywood produced a movie where the bad guy got away - and there wasn't a sequel? Or when beautiful girl number 592 didn't find her soul mate and fall in love? Or when the ending left you hanging - without any semblance of recovery, resolution, happiness, or hope?
I get the entertainment value in books and movies, that if you walked out of the theater feeling the same as when you walked in, the movie hasn't done it's job. That people need an ESCAPE from what's eating them, from their stresses and their cranky spouses and their miserable job and the pestering kids and the world that won't shut up, the media that tells you you're not good enough (that you'll never be good enough) and the sorrow you feel at the prospect of your parents passing, the misery you feel at putting them in assisted living and the guilt you feel for not visiting because it's too hard and the debt that's threatening your lifestyle and the nosy neighbor who won't leave your business alone and the ugly boss who's dumb as a brick and the pressure to get just the right gift for the holidays.... It's a lot to deal with. And fun, entertaining, laugh out loud or make you grip the edge of your seat kind of movies or books are a good distraction. Sometimes, an inspirational story is just what somebody needs to pull themselves up and say, "I can do it too. I'm going to go forth and pursue whatever it is that makes me happy" or "I'm going to fight this thing til the end, because I'm stronger than that." And don't get me wrong, I fall into that category too. I watch The Notebook when I'm feeling a bit down. I eat ice cream when I feel like I've earned it, even if I really haven't. I read The Alchemist when I need a little pick-me-up. I get it.
But what about me? What about what I'm going through right now? I don't have an ending written yet, I don't have a story or a happy ending... I don't know if my life is going to be a thriller or a drama or a comedy or a story that shouldn't ever be made into a movie. What about the girl who never finds her soul mate - the one who dies alone? What about the boy who never gets over the insecurities he's had since he was little, maybe since he was born? What about the young man who never gets out of the rut of poverty, or the tragically depressed husband who doesn't tell anyone and one day the wife comes home to find he's put a gun to his head and she never gets over it? What about the way I'm feeling right now??? I'm not sure of my ending, I'm not even sure it's going to be a happy one. I want a story to be like that- to end like that. To tell me that it's okay to feel miserable even if the end doesn't exist yet, I want a story that doesn't distract me from the hurt but rather lets me dig deeper into exactly what I'm going through. Something that doesn't need to give reason or rhyme to whatever it is that's hurting me, that doesn't need a happy ending to justify it but rather just lets me be with this part of myself, to get to know it better and to understand it and to just cry. To hurt for however long I need to hurt, without creating the ending with blue skies and tears of joy and a gentle kiss from my long-lost lover and and inspiring, overcoming story. I need a story that's going to hold me like my best friend does when I need to cry - just holds me until I'm done, and then keeps holding me. Just let's me be whatever it is that I need to be at that moment. Because the distractions, the facade that I've worked so hard for... it only makes things harder.
I think that sometimes reasons don't make things any easier, they just give it reason. And I do honestly believe that there's a reason for everything, that this is what NEEDS to happen right now, crappy as it might be. I know that I can't experience joy without having experienced sorrow. That I can't truly forgive until I know what it's like to be truly angry. And so this, this is allowing me to live, fully and wholly and without fear or apathy. But that doesn't diminish what I'm feeling. And so yes, there is a reason. But no, it's not any easier.
Afterwards, when I'm ready to tackle whatever problems this is, that's when the inspirational pep talks come in, when distraction is good because I'm exhausted from making progress. How can progress be made if the problem isn't even being confronted? But right now, the inspirational crap, well it just makes it worse.
Tuesday, November 11
The Liberal Media
I was recently framed as a child-killer.
Not directly. It was passive association, really, and very vague. But it was there nonetheless. I don't know if anyone still watches 60 minutes, but last week, there I was, framed for killing children in Hong Kong by recycling computers. I didn't mean to.
Not that I'm really that upset about my association with that, I was trying to do a good thing, as was everyone else at that event. And, yes, given some research, I do believe that even the owner of the company in Englewood was trying to do a good thing. There were a series of steps that the box went through (and a variety of companies, not all American), before it got to Hong Kong.
I just think it's interesting that the media can so easily spin something that they claim as investigative to create a negative connotation regarding someone. They claim it's investigative journalism, they claim that they are trying to expose people who are exploiting others, to reveal the truth and bring justice to those who can't speak for themselves. But are they really being objective? Can they really uncover the truth?
The media, regardless of the image they try to convey, is a business. They have to capture and audience, and be interesting enough to generate a profit. And that's really what media is all about. It's just another integral part of our capitalist system. They have to find the stories that will generate the best pictures and capture the audience. So how much can we really trust the media? In that 60 minutes episode, what exactly did they leave out (or not bother to figure out)? And how come we give the media so much credibility? Was 9/11 a consipiracy? Is there information that the government is not giving us about the JFK assination? Not to critique investigative journalism, or uncovering the truth, but since Watergate and Vietnam, it seems like the media and politics have not been on the same side. FDR successfully used the media to win 4 elections.... but since then (although, some say Barack Obama's use of the internet is progressive) no politician has seen the media as an ally. So, although media sources can balance each other, it all comes down to this: What are we not being told?
Not directly. It was passive association, really, and very vague. But it was there nonetheless. I don't know if anyone still watches 60 minutes, but last week, there I was, framed for killing children in Hong Kong by recycling computers. I didn't mean to.
Not that I'm really that upset about my association with that, I was trying to do a good thing, as was everyone else at that event. And, yes, given some research, I do believe that even the owner of the company in Englewood was trying to do a good thing. There were a series of steps that the box went through (and a variety of companies, not all American), before it got to Hong Kong.
I just think it's interesting that the media can so easily spin something that they claim as investigative to create a negative connotation regarding someone. They claim it's investigative journalism, they claim that they are trying to expose people who are exploiting others, to reveal the truth and bring justice to those who can't speak for themselves. But are they really being objective? Can they really uncover the truth?
The media, regardless of the image they try to convey, is a business. They have to capture and audience, and be interesting enough to generate a profit. And that's really what media is all about. It's just another integral part of our capitalist system. They have to find the stories that will generate the best pictures and capture the audience. So how much can we really trust the media? In that 60 minutes episode, what exactly did they leave out (or not bother to figure out)? And how come we give the media so much credibility? Was 9/11 a consipiracy? Is there information that the government is not giving us about the JFK assination? Not to critique investigative journalism, or uncovering the truth, but since Watergate and Vietnam, it seems like the media and politics have not been on the same side. FDR successfully used the media to win 4 elections.... but since then (although, some say Barack Obama's use of the internet is progressive) no politician has seen the media as an ally. So, although media sources can balance each other, it all comes down to this: What are we not being told?
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