Bathroom Monologue: Lovably Bland, No More

“You were perfect: bland to the point of absolute trustworthiness. Innocuous. Anodyne. Perpetually informed, and informing without opining. You were the tap water of nightly news. Where other people had flavor that carried chemicals and calories, you were crystal clear, something you could drink, cook with, even wash your hands with.

“Now they’re washing their hands of you.

“You just had to take a stand? How many wars did we stay neutral on? How many scandals? Our office got bomb threats and you never editorialized. We were doing so well. I mean, minus the bomb threats.

“So well until you spoke up on an issue. Not even an important one! You didn’t change any minds, except the advertisers, four of which have already left, and others are following them to the door.

“You can’t take it back; no one’s going to trust that you aren’t a person anymore. We’ve got to spin this issues-liberal, or maybe spin it centrist-conservative, because if you don’t pander, no audience is coming in to fill this gap. You’ve got the afternoon to pick some passions. Tonight you’re either turning into a pundit or a pumpkin. Glass slipper’s off the foot.”