Letterman Has Failed Us

We were shocked when news came out that night talk show host David Letterman had become entangled in an ugly mess of indiscretions.

For those of you who missed it, Joe Halderman, a journalist and producer of the show 48 Hours left him a package of incriminating evidence and a threat that unless Letterman gave him $2 million, Halderman would write a book and (this being the entertainment industry) a screenplay!

Letterman hit up the Manhattan DA and they caught the extortionist after Letterman wrote him a phony check and Halderman tried to cash it (n00b–doesn’t he know these things are cash or nothing? He does–or should I say–did produce a true crime documentary series).

Letterman came clean about his canoodling with staffers to the grand jury and then on his show.

So, OK. He cheated on his wife. Letterman’s production company Worldwide Pants (come on, that’s too easy a joke to make) has a sexual harassment policy that does not prohibit sexual relationships between managers and employees. However, the CBS conduct statement calls for this information to be disclosed to HR. It wasn’t, so there are issues there. But that’s neither here nor there.

The bigger issue is, well, he made fun of so many cheaters. No political scandal has not had its fifteen minutes of raucous laughter on Letterman. Dave can joke all he likes about how this all went down, but damn. Is it as funny now that we know his business?

Post photo by Jeffrey Simpson.

Unsexy Sells

With all the tweeting, social sharing and oversharing, many are starting to wonder if the information generation hasn’t turned into the chronicler generation. Funny guy and radio host Steve Dahl is worried about it. In his column last week, he ruminated about our current penchant for sex tapes:

Has the memory card replaced actual memory? With the leak/release of that nudie tape featuring actor Eric Dane, his wife, Rebecca Gayheart, and 2002 Miss United States Teen (not Teen USA) Kari Ann Peniche, I have to wonder if it has. Can’t anybody have a good time anymore and just remember it?

If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? “Esse est percipi,” said the philosopher George Berkley–to be is to be perceived. This is the mantra of our generation, as shown by the tweeting, Facebooking, Flickring, Blipping, Foursquaring, etc. that run rampant.

Do our lives make no sense without an audience? And can we only understand things as an audience–even things that occur to us?

I blog to remember. And let me tell you–it’s come in handy on more than one occasion. Who doesn’t like photos and videos of their treasured moments? Or just some random moment? Who hasn’t looked back at an old tape filled with nothing in particular and smiled, somewhat horrified at how silly they appear, how ridiculous their hairstyle or fashion choice, but marveled just the same at how young they were then?

Most of us grew up with parents who chronicled our every move. Photos, videos. Some of them kept our letters, old drawings, report cards. My parents still have an old math test I bombed.

My grandmother got me journaling when I was young, by quoting Anais Nin to me, “write to live things twice–in the moment and in retrospect.”

So what if sex tapes are not like porn, as Dahl says? Real sex looks nothing like porn. Real people don’t have directors, or lighting and sound guys. People filming their sex are more into the sex they’re having than getting the right angle.

Of course it’s going to be less stellar than porn. The people involved are sharing a moment, not creating a fantasy. That’s why the sex tape will be filled with bizarre conversations–like McDreamy trying to figure out his porn star name and Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee discussing names for a stoner cookbook.

That’s what makes sex tapes interesting–they’re not fantasy. They’re real. Real is not very sexy. But if the prominence of reality entertainment products is any indication, unsexy sells.

Thumbnail image by Drew Ressler.