Dead Alive

10/24/06

I'll just put it here on the table: I watch the Lifetime Network. Yes, this might quite possibly put my testicular fortitude in jeopardy, but let it be known that I only tune into "the network for women" from 11 p.m. to midnight for a double shot of Frasier; I'm not watching the seemingly endless train of Lifetime "special" films where, oddly, women are perpetually getting raped, beaten, killed and stalked. But in the course of my Dr. Frasier Crane hour I'm inevitably subjected to the sometimes frightening advertising of this channel.


Lately they've been promoting a new show by Lisa Williams called Life Among the Dead, premiering Oct 30th. This advert, shown at every possible commercial break, is not as bad as Off the Leash, which is a steaming nugget of a show someone actually thought up, pitched, produced and edited about a talent agency which promotes dogs for TV, movies and commercials in Hollywood. How the earth can keep from just vomiting lava all over anyone psychotic and pretentious enough to put the phrase "is that bottled water? Oh no, she only drinks bottled water," on television referring to a fucking dog I'll never know. But we've gotten way off track here. I was talking about Lisa Williams.

Lisa is—am I actually writing this?—a medium. She talks to the disembodied souls of rotting corpses, in other words. I had thought the fad where people you've never met give you completely useless information that you already knew about your deceased loved ones burned itself out seventeen or eighteen minutes after John Edward went on the air, but clearly I was mistaken. Now I'm sure Lisa is a perfectly nice human being, and in case that were in doubt, Lifetime gently tugs at the maternal heartstrings by working in the fact that Lisa is a mother during her promo. How could you possibly refuse to watch some trite, sideshow malarkey when she has a family to support? Are you heartless demons?

I should point out that I don't have anything inherently against psychics, save the fact that I think most of them are more inferring ability than genuine paranormal perception. Despite the fact that I am an atheist, there is no evidence in the physical laws of the universe precluding ghosts and spirits. I personally think that humans are not inherently more special than dogs or cats or lungfish, and the biochemical energy (or soul, if you prefer) in our bodies just slowly leaks away like a 9-volt in a smoke detector until there's not enough to keep this corporeal body going and we just cease to be. But sure, I've seen enough evidence to suggest that something deeply fucked up goes on in certain places that lends itself to the idea of ghosts hanging around because of a violent or sudden end. Do I think Aunt Mae is just hovering about out there in the void waiting for Lisa Williams to deliver the message that she's very pleased with how you're raising her seven cats she graciously willed you after her death? Good gods I hope not.

I guess my real problem with these celebrity dead-whisperers is that even in the best case scenario, it all just seems really fucking boring and mildly depressing. Does the fact that you have to have some spiky- haired talk show host act as liaison between you and your loved ones give anyone comfort? They make the afterlife just seem like some big waiting room with everyone gathered around playing solitaire or whatever until the outside chance that a medium wanders by. And they don't strictly give advice or even provide anything other than what you already know and can confirm. Grandma's happy, Grandpa is playing poker with Malcolm X and little crippled Jimmy who drowned in the pool can finally walk again on magic spirit legs! Who the fuck cares? There's never anything even remotely helpful; you never see a destitute cousin on there asking where tightwad Uncle Rufus buried all those IBM stock certificates, for example. I'm also slightly skeptical over the fact that you never get to hear from some genuinely repugnant friend or relative who comes through to give you the phantom finger, despite the fact that every medium I've ever seen is very careful not to endorse the idea of "heaven" vs. "hell." It just makes better fiscal sense that way; you can't go alienating over half your audience by suddenly claiming to channel Jesus. No, THAT would be nuts.


And who the fuck wants to exist in an afterlife where you're the same miserable douche bag you were here on earth? I find the idea that everyone is exactly the same, no matter how pleasant, as they were while alive to be just terminally sad. Isn't the payoff of dying that you get to finally know a few secrets of the universe? Well, no, sorry; apparently crossing the threshold of death is about as enlightening as crossing the street to get a Dilly Bar, because these "spirits" never have anything more encouraging than "I feel great!" like some kind of deceased Tony the Tiger. Lisa Williams sums this complaint up when she says "What do dead people sound like? They sound like you and me." Oh, well that's just spit-on-your-crotch terrific! I think I've never heard anything quite so depressing. Forget visiting new and exhilarating secrets of the universe; you're still the same unenlightened, boring ass-face you were down here! Way to drop the ball, Jesus!

Buddhism; now there's a religion I could get behind. They don't get all bizarrely caught up with this whole "what happens after death" bit. They are mellow and content to be around and accept that some things are beyond the reach of mortals. The Buddha didn't say there wasn't a god, but he did say that there was no point in looking for one, since the nature of reality and the divine was fundamentally unknowable by our weak little senses.

I wish people would rub my belly.