Oh disturbing scenes! Oh lame channel! (Cipher not included)

Today is the day I thought might--but hoped would never--eventually come and the day for which I'd found it impossible to prepare. I’d finally sat down to read The Da Vinci Code and as is often the case when no mood music suggests itself, CNN International droned quietly and malevolently on in the background, another fine edition of “American Morning” or as I’ve come to think of it: “American Mourning.” I’d paused in my reading to refill my glass with Pocari Sweat – Japan’s version of Gatorade—not that I’d been gently perspiring or anything but I like Pocari Sweat. Cause I’m weird like that. I took a swig o’ sweat and sat back, secure in the knowledge that Pocari Sweat has “the appropriate density and electrolytes, close to that of human body fluid,” and hence was being rapidly absorbed into my system.

The drone of CNN resolves itself into intelligible mutterings about advertising and I looked up at the t.v. A grinning barbette figure – I don’t know her name and it really doesn’t matter -- just one of many in the CNN stable of plastic beauties, had just introduced a story about advertising, specifically renting your body out as advertising space. Think “Your Ad Here” tattooed across your forehead or perhaps emblazoned on an exposed and very pregnant woman’s belly.

And indeed, this piece of quality reportage actually showed an enterprising man and woman who’d done just that. The guy was hoping to reel in the big bucks by offering his forehead up to potential buyers, while the woman had scored with some casino company and was proudly sporting its logo across her stomach (In her words, “I’m a single mother and I really needed the money.”) One dude had actually made over $30,000 in this way!

Apparently, people appeal on-line to vendors desperate for ad space, demanding tens of thousands of dollars (and in one case, over a million). This, it would appear, is a completely natural and unholy development whose roots lie in the ubiquity of logos that adorn so many of the products that we poor consumers are conned into buying. I know I'm not alone in recalling the days when kids even shaved their heads to reflect their allegiance to logos such as Nike. Perhaps they still do, but it seems now, people are wising up and deciding that they're not gonna be advertising whores (i.e. they want to get paid!).

I assiduously try to avoid voluntarily or involuntarily advertising on behalf of some supplier/dealer [insert own drug or non-drug related metaphor here] of consumerables, though I do cling desperately to the ratty old orange canvas Pumas I bought back in 1992 because I just like them. Heck, they’re orange and it can’t be helped if Pumas and the colour orange are in vogue these days. To throw them out on that account alone would be merely reactionary.

Anyway, the story really freaked me out, making me realize that no matter how much I might like reading Phillip Dick, I really don’t want to live in a Dickean world.

“Cute story.” Those were words with which Barbie’s co-anchor closed the segment on using your body to advertise. Cute story!?? My ass! Puppies, children and Hello Kitty are arguably cute. Pixies, faeries and hobbits are conceivably cute. A story about people who allow commercials to be inscribed onto their flesh, who actively seek to peddle their skin as an advertising canvas, is anything but cute. The mindless mediocrity of the CNN talking heads never ceases to amaze. Their absolute lack of insightful stories and commentary is stunning, in fact awe inspiring (in the sense of inspiring one with complete and utter dread).

Somehow, I managed not to have an aneurysm and I went back to my book, which appropriately perhaps mentions the penchant amongst some devout members of Opus Dei to engage in purifying acts of mortification of the flesh. Is CNN International my “Discipline”, I wondered? Is watching it my daily act of mortification of the mind? I’m beginning to think so.