The Oppenheimer Report 1/16/17

With all the nonsense about the American President-elect, who shall remain nameless, and who recently fired off a completely un-diplomatic and retaliatory tweet, lashing out at actress Merle Streep for her criticism of his juvenile behavior, then threw a public hissy fit during his first press conference, declaring one of the world’s leading news sources is “fake news”; I thought it might better to recount a humorous fuzzy memory from decades past. Now halfway through January, I meant to reprise this story right after the New Year, but somehow, I got distracted.

Years ago, we had an unusual custom: on New Years Day we shot a TV. It all began back in 1977. Home for the holidays from college, I was at a party in Buffalo one night, and a group of my friends and I were griping about all the Bicentennial nonsense which we had been force fed over the past year. It seemed as if the commemoration of America’s 200^th birthday had become a year-long binge of cheap marketing opportunities and hype. There were bicentennial gas grill giveaway sales at Recreational Warehouse, red, white, and blue milkshakes at McDonalds, bicentennial placemats, cupcakes, hats, scarves, snow globes, toilet paper, pencil cases, sunglasses, you name it – it was everything one might find at a souvenir shop in Niagara Falls, only on a more ridiculous scale. It had all gotten to be a bit much, and perhaps for the first time, I and my friends saw America the way the rest of the world did: spoiled, rich, and stupid. Our fearless leader-elect seems to be the personification of those onerous stereotypes. Anyhow, I and my drunken compatriots decided that we were fed up with all this materialistic jingoism, and we came up with a ceremony to usher in 1977. After much discussion, we decided to decry the excesses of 1976 by raffling off a chance to shoot a television set. The television was, after all, the vehicle through which all this nonsense was broadcast. We would hold the raffle on New Year’s Day, and the winner would get the first shot, with a twelve-gauge shotgun. The rules were simple: the TV had to be working and on when shot, and it had to get at least 3 channels, so the shooter had a choice. There would also be consolation shots.

My friend Bob and I were entrusted with the duty of procuring the victim, which was no mean feat. We were on a very limited budget, and if you think about it; how does one explain to a seller that “it just has to work for about 20 minutes.” We looked at a few potential victims, and we finally settled on a black and white Zenith from Boosing Electric. I felt bad for the owner. He was so proud to have repaired this crappy television set that we were reluctant to explain our intentions. Nevertheless, we needed him to understand our thriftiness. As we walked out the store, I kept singing over and over “I shot the Zenith, but I did not shoot no R-C-A.” Bob slapped me across the head to make me shut up.  

New Years Day 1977 came, and, armed with a movie camera to record the event, a group of very hungover celebrants headed over to a friend’s cottage in Lorraine, Ontario for the first annual New Years Day television shoot. It was an appropriately cold and miserable winter day. The ceremony seemed like a much better idea when it was conceived of, indoors.

Our raffle tickets were homemade, and the winning ticket had a picture of a TV smoking a cigarette with a blindfold on. There were maybe ten or fifteen of us in attendance, and yours truly won the raffle. Over the next ten or more years, we continued the tradition, and by the time we held the last event, the shooting had evolved into a firing squad. The firepower at the final television shoot was ridiculous. I think somebody even brought an elephant gun. Somewhere buried in one of my many junk boxes is an 8MM movie of the very first shoot, There were several other videos made as well. I cannot express in words the catharsis I felt shooting that television with a shotgun. As the world grows crazier by the day, it seems like an ever more meaningful practice. I think back to these happy memories with friends.

I can’t explain the madness of mankind. I think it’s always been this bad, but now we have a 24-7 reminder thanks to “fake news”. I believe we alienate ourselves. With impunity we disrespect each other in the impersonal forum of the internet. Our collective behavior is shameful. It’s them or us, Democrat or Republican, black or white; good or bad. If I’ve learned anything in my 60 years it is that nothing is that simple. I think to love is harder than to hate, and that we are wired to take the easy way out. “Reality” begets reality and as we soak up a sea of toxic misinformation, the only thing that grows is our fear and mistrust of each other. Yes, of course there is evil in the world, and there always has been. “Rump” is not the problem, we are. If we keep expecting others to fix this problem, we will continue to elect leaders like Rump to lead us over the edge of the cliff. I said it in the first report of the New Year, I’m not looking for anyone else to make the world better. Democracy is not a spectator sport. My resolution for 2017 is to do better than I have done so far.

Today is Martin Luther King Day, and I was just reminded of a quote attributed to King: “I’ve decided to stick with love, hate is too big a burden to bear.”

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2017 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED