Circus Foximus

During the decline of the American Empire, in the year 2006, we have no need for gladiators, hungry lions, maidens tied to poles. We have Simon Cowell and Co., along with thousands of pathetic beings whose gag-awful singing will, sadly, live long after them. Such a spectacle it is.

I confess with all shamefacedness to watching the first three seasons of American Idol. After that, we pulled the plug on cable and even broadcast TV. Now I wonder--what in the name of all righteousness was I thinking?! Was my life really that devoid of meaning? Did I truly give over my irreplacable two nights a week to care about such vapidity? Did I honestly call fourteen times to vote for Fantasia?

My head is in my hands.

AI was my novacaine, existence was my toothache. Over a year later, the pain has returned--but so has clarity, intellectual pursuit, spiritual pondering, creativity.

I gave up my seat in the Colosseum and gained back the one Pearl of Great Price--my life.