Minute Progress at 60 Minutes
Enduring each excruciating second of 60 Minutes is a torture set up by the premise. The antiquated show’s name highlights just how long viewers will be locked in the sanatorium. One particular practitioner has been discharged to his consternation. Fresh air is toxic to the mendaciously insane. Scott Pelley can’t announce what he thinks is going on anymore, and the last moments of Sunday suck a little less. Canning the embodiment of the best way to get misinformed half a century ago is a good start.
I’m worried 60 Minutes will stop being stuffy, frigid, and haughty in obtuse bias. There’s nothing left of the sludge factory. Pelley shouldn’t fret: he’ll find work making buggy whips.
Pelley covers one story: his own amazingness. Getting fired for insubordination has offered the professional narrator the chance to act like a victim. The midway barker sought self-styled cases of injustice to promote at his erstwhile gig. Now he can interview himself. He’s surely as awesome as his source purports.
Pelley is acting so melodramatically that it could be a segment. He’s even more upset about not currently having a place to present what he stubbornly maintains are facts.
Nobody familiar with Pelley is surprised he’s stealing valor. His specific self-aggrandizing lie that “I have been in combat” highlights everything wrong with journalists, so thank him for revealing truth. It’s accidental, but that’s how he works.
Someone watching something is not participating. The pomposity of reporters who are taking notes about what others are doing is the industry’s defining feature. Pretending he was carrying a rifle instead of a notepad doesn’t deter Rambo Pelley from his fantasy.
The casual announcement was curious choice of words for someone who uses them for a living. Risibly announcing he’s been in combat is inadvertently revealing. Do you know how full of oneself one must be to shamelessly claim something so despicable? The answer is as much as Pelley is. By his standard, I’ve been in NHL games. And anyone who watches 60 Minutes is a contributor. Tim Walz saw more combat.
Nobody is presently paying Pelley to lie superciliously. It’s a loss for journalism. He says he’ll tell me the news for spare change. A weekly lecture that supposedly straightens out distortions instead contributed to them. That’s worth examining for an hour.
Liberals suddenly care deeply about profits. Hearing how much money 60 Minutes made is a curious defense from people deeply committed to punishing billionaires for attracting customers. By their very serious logic, a good show should need subsidies because the unenlightened masses are too ignorant to tune in. Do a story about how quantity equals quality.
We await which streaming service will host the new version of stodgy harangues to skip. Hoary contributors who are the next to leave the alleged institution may soon be reunited with Pelley in a different break room. Then they should have no problem reuniting the band on a different platform. Right? Anyone who claims to be in such demand should be glad to enter free agency.
Producing their own YouTube or Twitter knockoff should be as easy as churning out distorted attack pieces. The Scott Pelley and Friends Hour couldn’t look shoddier than the network version. All the producer has to buy is a black curtain. The signature sterile backgrounds look chintzy as they add to airlessness. They don’t even need a stopwatch: your phone does that. Sticking with obsolete technology is perfect in its way.
The best part of a phone timer is not having that creepy clicking. The sterile clock is the next thing Bari Weiss should can. Everything about 60 Minutes is as uncomfortable as being the subject of one of their cheaply-edited hit pieces.
The tone indicates the end of fun. Racing after the late CBS NFL game to switch to Fox is as much of a tradition as cheering against the Chiefs. Americans would rather watch Terry Bradshaw attempt English than the news as presented by Stanley Kubrick.
The person who pimped lies about his ideology risibly spews an accusation featuring the same offenses against those who finally had enough. Finally: there’s a good story from the show.
Turmoil beats the stability of sticking with a partisan fibber. Upheaval frightens everyone. The desire for predictability is baked in to humans. Please stop moving around the clicker and TV Guide.
Craving a stable viewing experience is especially appealing to Boomers who’ve grown accustomed to thinking they’ll be well-informed before the weekend’s end. Anyone who’s endured a conversation with one knows the opposite’s true.
Those going extinct vainly fight nature. The dinosaur insists the world will end when it does. Instead, life goes on and actually improves. The diehards at 60 Minutes think they can maintain their monopoly indefinitely. Sunday night has been the schedule’s Baltic Avenue for decades.
Pelley is known by his fans, unfortunately. If you’re a journalist praised by a politician, you’re a failure. Adulation from those who should be subjects of ridicule is what we call the Stephen Colbert standard. Those holding offices are precisely the people both late-night hosts and Sunday evening journalists should loathe. Getting on the case of anyone in power is their role. Instead, protected Democrats don’t have the sense to express gratitude privately by quietly sending an Edible Arrangement. I am not listening to Pelley and Colbert’s podcast.
Confusing dull with worthwhile has long been the business model. The show has banked on suckering enough gullible viewers into thinking tediousness means there’s something important offered. Realizing that being bored doesn’t mean one is learning something important leads to doing something more enlightening for 60 minutes.















