There is a new Pope and yet things are exactly the same around our house; you'd think with all the fuss everyone made about the old one resigning and the voting and the black smoke and the white smoke and the bells that when they got a new one things would be different. But no. Maybe for the Catholics or the Argentinians, but here in my little corner of the world, it's business as usual; news makers come and news makers go, and little changes.
For the past few weeks, or maybe months, a young woman named Jodi Arias has been on trial for the multiple stabbing, after shooting and almost decapitating, of her boyfriend. That's pretty much all I've got. I have stumbled upon pictures of the twosome in the media, and I always turn away before any details permeate my brain and possibly show up in a bad dream. Yet there are people on Facebook who love it, watch it, discuss it as eagerly as back in the day when O.J. killed or did not kill his wife Nicole and her boyfriend or not boyfriend, Ron Goldman. Back then I was all ears and fairly glued to the TV. There was Mark Fuhrmann, the hunky cop who found the glove and was discredited for having once said the N-word. And Marcia Clark with her curly hair and sober attorney Chris Darden and outlandish Johnny Cochran with his rhyming antics, and Judge Ito and that moronic surfer-dude Kato...those were good times.
Maybe I'm getting too old to care about the lives of total strangers who are criminally insane. Heck, I don't even care about the new Pope. What's wrong with me?
For the past few weeks, or maybe months, a young woman named Jodi Arias has been on trial for the multiple stabbing, after shooting and almost decapitating, of her boyfriend. That's pretty much all I've got. I have stumbled upon pictures of the twosome in the media, and I always turn away before any details permeate my brain and possibly show up in a bad dream. Yet there are people on Facebook who love it, watch it, discuss it as eagerly as back in the day when O.J. killed or did not kill his wife Nicole and her boyfriend or not boyfriend, Ron Goldman. Back then I was all ears and fairly glued to the TV. There was Mark Fuhrmann, the hunky cop who found the glove and was discredited for having once said the N-word. And Marcia Clark with her curly hair and sober attorney Chris Darden and outlandish Johnny Cochran with his rhyming antics, and Judge Ito and that moronic surfer-dude Kato...those were good times.Maybe I'm getting too old to care about the lives of total strangers who are criminally insane. Heck, I don't even care about the new Pope. What's wrong with me?
No comments:
Post a Comment