Blase

I hate being up on a Saturday morning.  It’s as if I somehow revert to childhood.  I get to sleep in, but for some reason I’m awake, and the television only caters to the elderly or the young.  I guess I used to imagine, in my youth, that at one point the adult shows would be relevant to me on a Saturday morning.  Well, okay, they are… if you consider solving a murder, profiling a serial killer, or taking a stroll down Washington politics as a wonderful way of waking up.

I suppose there is the news.  But, really, with the Internet, 24/7 broadcasts, YouTube, Facebook, Twitter, and the thousands of other apps and social connections out there I think I get enough news.  News gets thrown at you whether you want it or not.  I’m certainly not going to actively try to seek it.  Hmm, I wonder if I just predicted that news shows will not exist in the future.  No more “Nightly News” or “6:00” whatever.  Actually… is there still nightly news and 6:00 whatever???

Well, this started with me landing aimlessly on a channel that had cute little animals on it.  I’m fairly certain this show is catering to children.  I am watching an overgrown bearded man-boy play ice hockey with a grizzly bear in an attempt to teach me about polar bears.  Yeah, I fail to see the connection either.  But it’s the scene before that actually prompted this post.

Man-boy was in Alaska speaking to the Eskimos.  I guess since we are learning about polar bears we were focusing on their food source, which would be the whales.  And we had to drag this poor guy out on the, he’s not even pretending to be on the water, let’s face it.  He gets this Eskimo out there on his truck to show him how one heats his big metal pot on the truck bed (ahem) ground and steams some whale meat.  Man-boy talks about the whaling culture and how the ice caps used to float the bears around to pick up the scraps of the meat left behind from both Eskimos and industry alike.

Did you catch it? I didn’t at first.

Used to.

The ice caps used to be there.

They aren’t there anymore.

And, actually, I’m totally surprised that I did not know this.  Man-boy playing ice hockey with the wrong species of bear we are learning about just passed by it as quickly as I did.

I knew they were melting.  I didn’t know they were gone.

They aren’t there anymore.  They are a “was”.  A “used to be”.  And apparently so blase it barely gets a sentence before our man-boy pans to him in Canada playing hockey with a grizzly bear.

This is why I hate being up on Saturday mornings as an adult.  I can’t even look at something cute!