Midlife Meditation

One could be excused for thinking I had panned Shakespeare for being too dramatic. Yesterday I wrote in this blog that I don't care for the works of a certain popular humorist (I use the term with air quotes). My complaint about said humorist (air quotes implied again, and will be for the remainder of this entry) is that his single purpose appears to be tromping upon every toe he can find, and if this fails to elicit a sufficient reaction, swapping out his shoes for heavy boots and tromping again and again, working his way through a progression of massive dense metaphorical footwear until the toes in question have been jellied and their possessor cannot help but scream in agony at the single-minded sadism of the perpetrator. Or he can just turn off the damn TV. For those who insist I'm missing something, and if only I give the guy another try, maybe one of his other shows, I shall endeavor to be as succinct and clear as it is possible for me to be: I don't think S...

I really don't like this guy. Just in case you've been away from your television for, oh, about a decade, this is Seth McFarlane. He's become something of a pop culture juggernaut, creating animated sitcoms and movies, and with enough credit as an entertainer that he was tapped to host the 2013 Oscars. Kids love him, particularly if they're in junior high. His humor is scatological, racist, misogynist, and hyper-sexualized. Parents who have the misfortune to walk in on their children watching a Seth McFarlane cartoon are fully justified in the knee-jerk response of "Turn that off!" Notice I didn't say "Change the channel!" Chances are good that whatever those same juvenile consumers switch to will be equally offensive: Daniel Tosh, pro "wrestling," "reality" shows, teen sex comedies, Judd Apatow-style gross-out movies. "Go on the internet instead!" is likely to plunge them even deeper into content that has push...