I never cease to be amazed at what show biz people will put on the tube, and I’m even more puzzled by why some people will watch some shows.

F’rinstance:

A contest to judge who can make the best wedding dress out of bathroom tissue. Yeah, that’s every young girl’s dream! Imagine walking down the aisle in a two-layer gown by Charmin, escorted by Mr. Whipple, and the ring bearer: that lil’ blue bear. You know, the only one who picks up his own shorts off the floor. Forget the rice, guests could throw those little cardboard rolls.

And they there’s that commercial where people gather up dirty laundry and smell it before they toss it into washer. Who does that? Not the big blue bears, that’s for sure. They won’t even touch their kid’s shorts.

One commercial I can agree with points out that to get 3 or 4 channels that I watch, I have to pay for a couple hundred offerings of total junk.

Then there’s the dozens of medicines to cure everything except their own dire side effects. I know the government demands that side effects be made public, but these ads are even more scary than all those shows which give potential killers all the ways they can take somebody down. Of course, he internet is full of detailed instructions on bomb-making, etc., and the cop shows outline how many different ways a criminal can avoid being caught.

One this about the cop shows, though, that really amazes me. Those people — usually junkies, alcoholics, chain smokers or Weight Watchers drop-outs — who think they can outrun cops who appear to be weight lifters. And these dopes always have one of just two excuses for whay they ran.

“I didn’t know you were cops” or (tearfully) “Please don’t arrest me, I just can’t go the jail.”

Sometimes they try to schmooze the cops.

“I’m sorry, I know that was wrong, I’m stupid, please don’t take me to jail.”

And there’s the ocasional gal who wants to make a deal. Nobody, of course, knows they have an outstanding warrant.

I especially love it when the dogs sniff out the culprit. Would-be escapees seem to be a lot more terrified of Fido than of a fully-armed law officer, who is pointing a loaded gun at them.

There’s the horror films, too. I’ve never quite undrstooad why some people find sheer terror and mayhem a form of entertainment. For me, ranks right up there with blood-curdling carnival rides. But of course, my readers are well-aware that I’m scared of Slinkys and pop-top biscuit cans.

Spiders also terrify me, and as the weather turns cooler, I’ve had a spate of big old spiders crawling in under the door into the garage. However, I’ve found my copy of “Complete Works of William Shakespeare” very helpful. The thick volume dropped from a height of about 3 feet ... well, you got yourself a former spider.

But I digress. I also wonder at the repeating commercials for that extract of shale rock that claims to smooth out facial wrinkles. I don’t know if it works, but I do know you can get the same effect from egg whites. And if you use the whites sparingly, you can make yourself a batch of French toast with the leftovers.

Well, so much for my learned opinions. And I have amazed myself by staying away from politics this week. Of course, that can’t last. I hear the soapbox calling name right this minute.

Stay cool.

Patty Moore is a semi-retired veteran journalist, who lives in Everest. Have feedback for Moore or Less? Email via globe@npgco.com

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