I’m pissed that CBS has concelled Joan of Arcadia. Now, you might not think I watched a program like that, what with Joan talking to God and he/she talking back. But I understand the difference between fanatasy and reality, and that was one of the most creatively written shows on network tv.
But CBS says that the demographics they’re after don’t watch creatively written and well-acted quirky dramas that explore the human struggle to develop personal and moral values.
And the same network also cancelled Judging Amy, and so there goes the great imperfect older woman role model played by Tyne Daly.
CBS thinks that the demographics they’re after are not interested in watching well-written and acted shows that feature strong imperfect women struggling to make their way in the world while still remaining the center of strong imperfect families.
And on top of all of that, according to the Observer:
Nestling deep in the Ozark mountains of Arkansas, in the heart of America’s Bible Belt, this is the first dinosaur museum to take a creationist perspective. Already thousands of people have flocked to its top-quality exhibits which mix high science with fundamentalist theology that few serious scientists accept.
Well, there you go. CBS’s demographics:
Even as America’s scientists make advances in palaeontology, astronomy and physics that appear to disprove creationism, Gallup surveys have shown that about 45 per cent of Americans believe the Earth was created by God within the past 10,000 years. It is not just creationism either. Last week NBC’s Dateline current affairs programme, equivalent to the BBC’s Newsnight, investigated miracles. It concluded some could be real.
Oh yeah. Feed the frenzy of fundamentalism!
And don’t forget the Silver Ring Thing.
Don’t bother those Right/eous with facts. They know what they believe.

what’s this, she says, holding up a jar of mayonnaise that you’ve been wondering what happened to. that’s my mayonnaise, you say, picking it up to see if it’s cold. it’s not.
where was it, you ask.
I found it in there, she says, pointing to the buffet against her dining room wall.
why did you put it in there, you ask.
I didn’t put it there, she insists.
it’s just about midnight. she is looking through all the boxes in her bedroom that she has begun to pack in anticipation of the big move you both will soon be making. she says someone keeps moving things around from box to box.
you ask what she’s looking for, but she doesn’t seem to know.
why is everyone taking my things, she sobs. why can’t I have the things that are important to me.
no one is taking your things, you say. it’s all here, somewhere. you forgot where you put them. no one wants your stuff, you say. we have our own stuff.
I love you, she says. you came out of my body. why do you want to do this to me. why do you want to make me think I’m crazy, she says.
go to sleep, you say. tomorrow you’ll be rested and you’ll be able to find what you’re looking for.
you go back across the hall. turn on the computer. it’s almost twelve-thirty.
the phone rings. did you take the photo I have of you, she says.
no, I didn’t, you say. it’s there somewhere.
you’ll fix it for me tomorrow, she says. good night, she says.