...When All is Said and Dunn

There are times in every marriage that are give and take, and in order to maintain an even keel you must take one for the team. In my marriage, one of those ways is to relinquish the viewing rights to the main TV occasionally.

Generally we are on the same page as to what to watch, but a couple of times during the course of the year I grin and bear it and watch what I know she wants. OK, maybe I’m not grinning, but I am bearing it.

The case in point this time was last weekend’s Miss America pageant. Now don’t get me wrong, it does not require a lot of persuasion to get me to look at a beautiful woman, no less 20 at a time, but there is something about the presentation of this show that seems to drain all of the fun out of it.

This year was even worse than those in the past, with the possible exception of the year they decided to get rid of the bathing suit competition, a mistake that was quickly reversed. Perhaps it was the host, perhaps the format, maybe the host, maybe the format, no I think it was the host and the format.

This year’s master of ceremonies was none other than Tony Danza, the actor turned lounge lizard and a worse choice could not have been made. I don’t know when and why he decided to make this career change, perhaps out of some sort of desperation, but he really needs to stop.

His performance was painful at best. He continued to fumble even the simplest lines of dialogue, which makes one wonder how he survived multiple seasons of “Taxi” and “Who’s The Boss?” His dancing abilities seemed awkward and amateurish, as did his attempts at singing. If America really wanted to flush out the terrorists, we should try cloning Danza 10,000 times. Then send them singing and dancing through Afghanistan and the Middle East, that would flush the little buggers out. On second thought, that would be cruel and unusual punishment to the innocent. Never mind, too risky.

After a while I couldn’t take it any more and tried to move to another part of the house but even at the furthest distance away, my daughter Rachel’s room, there he was again. The only other hope for a bastion of relief was my son Alex’s room, I opened the door to WWF Wrestling. Sorry, but half-naked sweaty men beating each other to a pulp doesn’t do it for me either, so I took some Excedrin and headed back to the den.

They were just starting the bathing suit competition. OK, maybe it would get better. I am sorry to report it was very unsatisfying. Sadly, how do I put this, this was a group of some of the most “beauty challenged” contestants I have ever seen. I was hard pressed to find more than one that I would choose based on beauty. I mean these events are still called beauty contests, aren’t they?

The bathing suits that most were wearing were not what I would call flattering either. It was as though most were trying to hide some flaw in their torsos, which ended up having the reverse effect. One looked like she had no mid-section at all. Oh well, so much for my favorite portion of the show.

Soon the contestants had been whittled down to ten. We were nearing the end of this torture but now things were going to get dicey because we were entering the really painful part of the show, the part where these beauties were going to try to dazzle us with their “talent” and “wit”.

The talent show portion is completely mystifying to me. Opera, baton twirling, interpretive dance? How often do you remember seeing Miss America throw a baton during her term in office? Then ask yourself if you have, did you enjoy it? The best performer to ever come out of the system was Vanessa Williams and they kicked her out for posing nude years before the pageant, so she doesn’t really count.

Now we were down to five and my choice, Miss West Virginia, didn’t make the cut. I guess the judges have a different idea of beauty and grace than I do. I guess it is true, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

But in the pageant committee’s ongoing attempts to make sure whoever is chosen is well-rounded, they feel the need to ask the remaining five contestants a question to help evaluate their intelligence. Unfortunately when you have someone like Danza asking the questions, it is almost impossible to take it seriously, especially given his on-screen persona.

In the end, I felt like I had a higher expectation for the choice of Miss America, because she is representing our country. Given the current climate in America, I am sure I am not alone in wanting someone that would be a beautiful symbol for our country, not just an average one.