“If more Americans could be persuaded to carve out of their 3 or 4 hours of television viewing each day a period of 5 minutes at bedtime and use this time to ask their child a simple question — ‘How did things go today?’ — and listen, the result in terms of individual families and society as a whole could, I believe, be highly salutary.”[1]

In the almost 30 years since making that observation, I wonder how many households embraced the message. For me, I have a tendency to take things to the max. In this case, I took George’s challenge to spend 5 minutes with the kids at bedtime and expanded it to a half hour.

Our nightly routine typically includes reading to the kids for about 30 minutes from one of the classics, followed by tucking each one in bed, asking them “What was your favorite part today?”, praying a short prayer over them, and then giving them the blessing.

No, I’m not looking for a pat on the back or a reward for these attempts to be an engaged parent. Believe me, their impromptu hugs and kisses when we’re together are gratifying enough.

It’s hard to believe what we’re hearing—and seeing—in popular films and on television today. Someone once said, “It took 50 years for films to go from silent to unspeakable.” I couldn’t agree more.

Just how far has Hollywood—and, in turn, we consumers—drifted from their original standards of decency?

Introduced in 1930, the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of America defined basic standards of “good taste” and a list of do’s and don’t’s that previously governed the production of all films released by Hollywood.

By July 1, 1934, strict adherence to the code’s provisions were enforced. Few producers wanted to risk the wrath of the MPPDA and forfeit the Production Code Seal of approval—a sure bet your movie would never be shown on television, too.

One of the overriding principles of the original production code stated:

“No picture shall be produced which will lower the standards of those who see it. Hence the sympathy of the audience should never be thrown to the side of crime, wrongdoing, evil or sin.”

Yes, the original code used the “S”-word. Or how about this doozy:

“Excessive and lustful kissing, lustful embracing, suggestive postures and gestures, are not to be shown.”

I bet the following 10 additional provisions in the code would send our modern crop of “Follywood” producers into cardiac arrest:

• “The sanctity of the institution of marriage and the home shall be upheld.”
• “Methods of crime shall not be explicitly presented.”
• “Illegal drug traffic must never be presented.”
• “Pictures shall not infer that low forms of sex relationships are the accepted or common thing.”
• “Scenes of passion should not be introduced when not essential to the plot.”
• “Seduction or rape should be never more than suggested . . . they are never the proper subject for comedy.”
• “Sex perversion or any inference to it is forbidden.”
• “Pointed profanity (this includes the words God, Lord, Jesus, Christ—unless used reverently—Hell, S.O.B., damn, Gawd) or other profane or vulgar expressions, however used, is forbidden.”
• “Indecent or undue exposure is forbidden.”
• “Ministers of religion . . . should not be used as comic characters or as villains.”

How many movies can you name that stick to these guidelines today? Here’s what’s interesting: these were the prevailing guidelines during Hollywood’s “Golden Age.” Don’t tell me a great picture cannot be made unless it’s covered in slime.

If you’ve been feeling like your TV is really a deviant life form from another planet spewing garbage into your home, what’s stopping you from pulling the plug?

Okay, so I lied. I’m not really a hip hop fan.

Let’s just say I’ve never managed to get into Eminem’s whole crotch-grabbing scene. Besides, I just think his music is crap.

However, the fact that I, as a 50-something white boy, wouldn’t buy an Eminem album to save my life doesn’t mean that I have a right to sit in judgment of teenagers who do—or so I’ve been told.

And, frankly, I’m working to come to terms with that reality. You see, according to the Enlightened Ones who move among us, you and I are disqualified to make value judgments about the merits of today’s hip hop and hoodlum music industry for at least three reasons:

1)    We think a “crib” is the place where a baby sleeps

2)    We think a drive-by is hip slang for a drive-thru

3)    Wearing gold chains around our necks just gets in the way of our walkers.

The sooner you and I make peace with the fact we’re from the medieval times, the better. We’re just parents. We’re not music experts.

We’re not cool like the tattooed-gods with gold-capped teeth on MTV who drive around the streets of Hollywood in the latest armor-plated Hummer. What could we possibly know, I mean really know about the music industry? Nor are we as smart as the music editors at RollingStoned magazine or the executive vidiots at MTV who are clearly the authorities on what’s best for our children.

So, if they say rap ain’t crap, who are we to think otherwise? Yes, it’s time we stop berating ourselves over the music our kids are listening to. Enough with the guilt trip already. Sure, the music rattling the walls in your kids bedroom may sound like the rant of an angry convict with a jackhammer for a tongue, accompanied by a series of sonic booms on par with the space shuttle during liftoff.

So what? At least they’re home.

And, just because instinctively you may feel that vulgar references to various private body parts somehow isn’t right, you’ve got to learn to chill out. Yo, trust me, it’s all good, dogg.

After all, no matter how twisted or nasty the rhymes may sound to our unenlightened ears, that disc was Made In The U.S.A., by golly. And, there’s nothing sold in America that could possibly harm anybody—the trial lawyers have already seen to that.

But just in case the lawyers missed anything, I decided to do a little research of my own. I learned that Eminem was awarded two Grammy’s and had generated more than 1 billion—that’s BILLION with a “B”—dollars in sales since 1999.

Armed with that piece of info, the evil Bob voice inside my head said, “Look Bob. Em and his posse are just being good capitalists. They have a right to make piles of cash peddling obscenity-charged riffs to teens and tots if they want to. This is still America.”

Eminem is as fat a capitalist pig as the next guy, I’ll give you that. Maybe the voice in my head was right. If a few million parents didn’t have a problem allowing their cherubs to listen to his music, why should I?

I dug deeper.

Just for laughs I did a Google lyric search. I wanted to know what his adoring groupies would be humming as they listen to his “music.” What I read made me want to gag. Of course, as I quickly reminded myself, that’s only because I’m not hip. I’m not “down wit it.”

Now, let me just say that if you have a pacemaker, you’re a jihadist looking for another reason to kill the infidels, or you live in a convent, maybe skip a couple of paragraphs. For the rest of the uninitiated parental-types, grab a barf bag. Here’s one of my favorite ditties from Eminem’s classic hit album, Encore:

“PUKE”

I’d rather let you see

how much I f—kin’ hate you in a freestyle

You’re a f—kin’ coke head slut/I hope you f—kin’ die

I hope you get to hell and

Satan sticks a needle in ya eye

I hate ya f—kin’ guts you f—kin’ slut/I hope you die

Die-ie-ie-ie-ieee . . .

You don’t know how sick you make me

You make me f—kin’ sick to my stomach

Every time I think of you I puke

If honest, you probably want to yell: “The feelings are mutual, pal!” Hold on. Tempting as that might be, and I know this might sound totally insane, wouldn’t that represent a lack of love on our part? Think about it.

Here’s a guy who managed to rise from the streets of Detroit—a hellhole of a city if ever there was one—to become a household name even in the mud huts of Crapistan halfway around the globe. The music critics are right. We should be standing up to applaud his accomplishments.

Now, if you’re still having difficulty accepting gangsta rap music, see if this helps.

Take a deep cleansing breath and repeat slowly after me: “I just don’t get it . . . I just don’t get it.” Besides, the Ritalin-prescribing psychologists tell us we will really screw up our kids if we were to—here’s an idea—say, “No. You cannot bring Eminem’s crap into my house.”

While few adults would admit they actually desire to screw up their kids, their actions speak louder than words. In reality, the overwhelming majority of blitzed American parents have abdicated their role as the primary shapers of their kids morality, virtue, and work ethic.

While this may seem problematic, thankfully an army of teachers—as well as the media elite, cultural icons, and complete strangers—are filling the void, serving as surrogate parents so you can chill out and do your own thing.

Most adults, whether they mean to or not, make choices which screw up their kids. If that’s you, don’t feel like a slug—you’re actually in good company. Indeed, you are in the growing majority of negligent adults. I say it’s time for the guilt trip to stop.

You have every right to medicate, placate, and arbitrate the peace in your home while assuaging the guilt you may feel for missing their birthdays, their school plays, their sports—or their entire childhood—in order to pursue the things that you really want.

Contrary to what the smug guilt-mongers amongst us may say, purchasing the latest music for your kids with messages recorded by tattooed child molesters, gang members, addicts, perverts and hookers is a good thing—it’s good for the economy, it’s good for the psychotherapy industry, and it’s good for pharmaceutical manufacturers.

Likewise, creating a family library filled with a host of hot new DVDs featuring the latest from Hollywood’s pro bi-trans-gay-leso-curious-seeking-swinging-exhibitionist crowd is as American as, well, American Pie.

Let’s not forget that there’s an entire multi-billion dollar entertainment industry and a cadre of left-leaning, Ritalin-prescribing educators standing at your beck and call to make sure your kid has no chance of leaving adolescence unscathed.

So, when it comes to Follywood’s hottest DVDs, CDs, video games, Internet access, or books, go ahead, be apathetic. Buy whatever Junior wants. Clearly, whoever said “garbage in = garbage out” had no idea what they were talking about.

“The intense publicity surrounding the film, as well as several ecstatic early reviews, have set the bar very high. For this critic, Avatar doesn’t come anywhere near clearing that bar—not in the performances, not in the lavish visuals and certainly not in the film’s entirely derivative storytelling.

“In order to attain even a modicum of satisfaction from the film, one should see it only on a big screen, preferably in 3D. However, if you go strictly for the experience, be prepared for a gooey, New Age romance with thematic elements that will likely make you squirm. Avatar may represent the future of film visuals, but its script is strictly retro.”

To see the full review, click here.

PluggedIn film critics had this take:

“Extended scenes of near nudity (blue though it may be), intense violence and more than a little profanity pop out as much as the immersive 3-D imagery does.

“Cameron’s message in Avatar is something like this: Genocidal plunderers are devoid of spiritual enlightenment and driven by their compulsive lust for another people’s resources. Time reviewer Richard Corliss wrote of the motif, ‘This is not only the most elaborate public-service commercial for those of the tree-hugger persuasion; it’s also a call to save what we’ve got, environmentally, and leave indigenous people as they are—an argument applicable to the attempt of any nation (say, the U.S.) to colonize another land (say, Iraq or Afghanistan).’”

Get the full review here.

Have you seen it? What’s your view?

For $99 bucks, your little prince or princess never has to leave the coziness of their bedroom. Thanks to advances in technology, six-year-olds can completely disengaged from the family. No more noise arguing over Legos, dolls, blocks, crayons or Hot Wheels.

With the popular line of Disney Princess and Batman 13″ color televisions—with matching “kid friendly” remote controls—kids can be king and queen of their own viewing.

I’m serious here. Why risk their well-being exploring the dangerous outdoors? Between crime, global warming, and neighborhood bullies, it’s much better to have the kiddies watching the beatings and blood from the safety of their bedside.

Forget the reports documenting the link between childhood obesity and inactivity. What do those researchers at the federal Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) know about health, anyway? Who are they to claim in a study that 2 million pre-teens and teens in the U.S. are suffering from a pre-diabetic condition due to their inactivity and obesity? Enough of the guilt trip already. This is America.

We’re talking about your child’s happiness here. Some models permit access to more than 180 channels. And, with the ever-popular sleep timer, the kiddos can awaken to the sights and sounds of the tube instead of the voices of their parents—how boring is that? Give ‘em Sponge Bob and Barney over dad and mom anyday.

I say, buy two and save . . . batteries and common sense not included.

Not long ago, a 9-year-old San Diego boy got much more than he bargained for from his Sony PlayStation at Christmas: a seizure. After endlessly zapping, whacking, and smacking things in Video Game Land, Nicholas Lavin’s head started to jerk uncontrollably backwards and forewords.

Evidently, two symptoms tipped off Nick’s mother, Barbara, that all was not well with her Video Veggie:

1) spasmodic convulsions, and
2) the little backflips his eyes were doing

At this point his mom decided a trip to the pediatrician was in order. Um, good call. It could be argued that Ms. Lavin was the one whose head needed to be examined. Why? For allowing her son to play video games for three hours at a stretch until he went into epileptic-type seizures. But I digress.

When a MRI failed to show any other cause for the severe twitching, Nicholas was banished to preadolescent hell: no video games for 30 days—doctor’s orders. While kids everywhere might agree that requiring them to give up their PlayStation (or Nitendo Wii) cold turkey borders on abuse, the treatment worked.

According to news reports, Nick’s mother noticed an immediate change. She said, “All the head jerking is gone and his eyes are completely back to normal.” Here’s the best part. She added: “I think it’s a direct connection to the PlayStation and the amount of time he spent on it.”

No kidding? As we head into Christmas and as millions of kiddos unwrap the latest and greatest video gaming devices this side of Pluto, I wish the doc could prescribe something to help us clueless parents tune in and manage the consumption of entertainment in our homes before our kids become walking zombies.

Why is this important?

Because the value system of the reporter or newscaster determines the slant—or bias—that a story will ultimately reflect. This process is especially dangerous when the slant masquerades behind the pretense of “news.”

For example, if a journalist personally agrees with the notion of global warming, he’ll be inclined to produce a “news” story which leads the viewer to share in that perspective.

There’s virtually no way to be neutral on such a hot topic, even for a journalist. Either you believe Al Gore’s theory of global warming is a scientific fraud, or you agree with him that cow flatulence is contributing to the thinning of the ozone layer and should be taxed.

Of course, if you believe farmers should be taxed for cow farts, then you better be willing to tax White Castle for their gas-producing burgers. If not discerning, it’s possible to start believing some pretty wild stuff.

Just the Facts, Ma’am

Speaking of media bias, I’ll never forget the impression made by a visit to the newsroom of the ABC TV affiliate in Pittsburgh. I immediately noted a dry-erase board with two columns on it. The left side listed a number of “hot” local stories for the evening news: a convenience store murder, a bank robbery, a porn shop protest, a fire and so on.

In the right column corresponding with the stories were numbers, such as :21, :17, :35 and the like. Turning to the program director, I asked what the numbers signified. He informed me this was their Master Story Planner and the numbers represented the length of each story in seconds.

Hello? That means Joe Newscaster has typically between 17 and 30 seconds to communicate what happened, both sides of the story, any quotable sound bites, and an event summary (also known as the wrap-up). Further, the news director explained their “in-depth” story was typically anything longer than 30 seconds, but rarely more than 90.

My first lesson: due to short viewer attention spans the news is shallow and, as such, tends to rely upon the sensational.

Think about it. If you had to tell your spouse that you wrecked the car, how it happened, who was at fault, if there were injuries, and what it will cost to repair the damaged vehicle—could you do it in 19 seconds? With that kind of time pressure, I know I’d be forced to choose my words carefully. There’s simply no room for fluff.

After you reported the news to your spouse about the crackup, wouldn’t it be likely that he or she would have a few questions of his or her own? No matter how hard you may have worked to weigh your words carefully, 19 seconds is simply an inadequate amount of time to fully understand anything of substance.

Yet, isn’t that the way we receive the news every day?

We’re provided with a breaking story and, in most instances, the entire report is less than half a minute. So why do we keep tuning into such shallowness? On the surface, perhaps it’s because we feel “in touch” and somehow connected to the global community. We’re magically transported to the scene where it all happened, so we have a false feeling of “being there.”

But, between the hasty pace of news and our willingness to listen and not question what we’re hearing, it’s easy for journalists to place their own “spin” (bias) on a story. And that’s where we can run into trouble.

The next time you watch the evening news, count the seconds per story. Ask yourself whether both sides of the story were properly represented and who else they might have interviewed?

For me, I usually wonder why was that newsworthy?

But when it comes to media bias, this contest between the Starship Enterprise captain and the moose hunting former Gov. of Alaska was one of the rare moments on television when someone with Palin’s conservative position was given the upper hand in an exchange. Maybe there’s hope for TV after all.

Video available here.