Enough Out Of You
Dear History Channel:
I know we have had words before, but this time I mean it. I'm done. You've gone too far. When you show programs that have nothing to do with history - like, say "people driving trucks weird places until someone dies" or "people steering boats into unpleasant places" or "people cutting down trees in places that used to be pleasant but now aren't any more" - that's one thing. When you make a nod and a wink to what the skeptical podcasts call "The Whoo" with vaguely scientific takes (still not historical, mind you), like "we send people into the woods for two days and have them take pictures of deer" or "we have a guy in a boonie hat wax rhapsodic about UFOs", that's another. But Ancient Aliens? As a series? Seriously. The day I need to be lectured by some fatuous dude with Londo Molari's old haircut about how the Egyptians used vibrational levitation to move blocks of stone without someone else following immediately to say "Centauri-looking dude is a fruitbat" is the day we part ways.
Look, I'm all for open-mindedness. I'm all for exploring all areas of human knowledge (except those involving the Spice Girls) and experience with an open mind. I'm all for people believing what they want to believe, as long as it doesn't involve trying to perform blood sacrifice with my cats or ritual temple prostitution in my driveway. (You want to do it in the bradford pears, go for it. And good luck.) But extraordinary claims demand extraordinary proof, and giving someone credence and a platform as some kind of authority just because they've published a book just makes you look like cynical opportunists. I mean, for God's sake, I'VE published books. That doesn't mean anything I have to say about the laws of physics, Bronze Age tribal custom on Salisbury Plain, or the religious aspects of the Nazca Lines means a goddamn thing. And anyone who claims to be an authority on those matters and starts any argument they have with "I just know that..." is about as much of an expert as I am. Probably less.
Oh, and don't say you're letting them ramble because they make good television. They don't. They come across as eager, sweaty fanatics, true believers who could just as easily be discoursing on Spider-Man or WARP3 or Lee Harvey Oswald.
So, in conclusion: we're done. You're dead to me, at least until you start showing some actual history, and a lot fewer blurry pictures of hubcabs. And I say this as a guy with a shelf full of books on Bigfoot.
You've got The Whoo. And cooties. And I don't want either.
I know we have had words before, but this time I mean it. I'm done. You've gone too far. When you show programs that have nothing to do with history - like, say "people driving trucks weird places until someone dies" or "people steering boats into unpleasant places" or "people cutting down trees in places that used to be pleasant but now aren't any more" - that's one thing. When you make a nod and a wink to what the skeptical podcasts call "The Whoo" with vaguely scientific takes (still not historical, mind you), like "we send people into the woods for two days and have them take pictures of deer" or "we have a guy in a boonie hat wax rhapsodic about UFOs", that's another. But Ancient Aliens? As a series? Seriously. The day I need to be lectured by some fatuous dude with Londo Molari's old haircut about how the Egyptians used vibrational levitation to move blocks of stone without someone else following immediately to say "Centauri-looking dude is a fruitbat" is the day we part ways.
Look, I'm all for open-mindedness. I'm all for exploring all areas of human knowledge (except those involving the Spice Girls) and experience with an open mind. I'm all for people believing what they want to believe, as long as it doesn't involve trying to perform blood sacrifice with my cats or ritual temple prostitution in my driveway. (You want to do it in the bradford pears, go for it. And good luck.) But extraordinary claims demand extraordinary proof, and giving someone credence and a platform as some kind of authority just because they've published a book just makes you look like cynical opportunists. I mean, for God's sake, I'VE published books. That doesn't mean anything I have to say about the laws of physics, Bronze Age tribal custom on Salisbury Plain, or the religious aspects of the Nazca Lines means a goddamn thing. And anyone who claims to be an authority on those matters and starts any argument they have with "I just know that..." is about as much of an expert as I am. Probably less.
Oh, and don't say you're letting them ramble because they make good television. They don't. They come across as eager, sweaty fanatics, true believers who could just as easily be discoursing on Spider-Man or WARP3 or Lee Harvey Oswald.
So, in conclusion: we're done. You're dead to me, at least until you start showing some actual history, and a lot fewer blurry pictures of hubcabs. And I say this as a guy with a shelf full of books on Bigfoot.
You've got The Whoo. And cooties. And I don't want either.
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