The Telethon

Posted by Fleeceman on December 16th, 2008 filed in Pigeonholed

I recently attended a telethon, and there’s a reason that ends in a “thon.” All you have to do is replace “tele” with “mara” and you get an idea as to the fun to be had while attending a 12-hour telethon.

Who watches these things?

My point here is not to dis the impact of their intent. I think they probably help a lot of people who actually need help. They feed and clothe families who otherwise wouldn’t enjoy a nice hot cup of clam chowder. But the delivery borders on pure madness.

Nine cameras, an alleged 10,000 volunteers, multiple announcers, and the ubiquitous Kenny Loggins? My goodness. Watching the behind the scenes was kind of amazing. Each announcer team had approximately three minutes to deliver their schpeel, which was the same thing OVER AND OVER for twelve hours. Every time they got on camera, they appealed to the need for money, and how awesome it would be if you just whipped out your credit card and dropped down a small wad of cash. 

The level of enthusiasm and glee never wavered. These people were giddy with telethon delight every time that red light went hot on their camera. The strangest thing was, most of them (besides the “red head” with the tight red dress) were wearing frumpy couch clothes—the kind you normally wouldn’t go outside with.

And yet the question remains: who watches these things? Twelve hours of the same thing, with little bits of entertainment peppered in to break up the insanity? I’ll admit in times past I have stumbled upon a telethon on the television and sat there for a few minutes in rapt attention, in blind wonderment that it’s even on, and further stupefied that these seemingly mad people are so exuberantly repeating themselves in so many different ways, laughing at their little interactions that aren’t funny.

It’s a talent, really, to get up there and do that. It’s a talent I’m glad I don’t have. And if, somewhere deep down inside my fetid little mind I could somehow dredge up the mind-numbing skill to blather endlessly in front of a camera, maybe I’d do it for the money, or at least long enough to stand next to Ryan Seacrest so I could stab him in the neck with a dull pencil.

But telethon talent, now that’s another ball game. These poor people were born with the ability to present for, with unbridled fervor, that which their show doesn’t have—money.

As the day wore on, one of the many shifts in volunteer groups came in, and one catty little miss said, “Oh, I’m totally unimpressed. I’m an event coordinator.”

Missy, despite the overwhelming element of cheese that accompanies a fundraiser, the production was nearly flawless. Kenny Loggins was scheduled to play live at 9pm, and by gum, when that clock turned, their was Kenny, live for the, um, world to see.

On a final note, the News Press was apparently streaming the show live on the Internet, but as I looked for the stream (because I could, standing there in the room, on my new iPhone—woo woo) it saddened me to see that you had to be a subscriber to the News Press. So there we all were, putting our time in to gather money for the less fortunate, and the News Press couldn’t find time to allow for a free stream of the content.

Nonsense.