In Praise Of Sally's And Jerry's Shows

Imagine saying this to your significant other some night, in a conversational tone:

"Honey, I'm a prostitute."

Or this:

"Oh, by the way, I have six wives."

You can't do it, right? You can't fathom making such a ridiculous (and, it is to be hoped, untrue) statement.

Which leads me to my theory. Now stay with me here:

There are in this world, I imagine, people who make a little spare money working as hookers, or people who have married six times without bothering to divest themselves of any troublesome previous spouses, or -- somewhere -- there's a man who's been stealing estrogen pills from his transsexual girlfriend because he wants to become a woman, too.

How, though, to break the news? What is the appropriate setting for passing along such earth-shattering revelations? That's easy: Become a guest on the "Jerry Springer" or "Sally Jessy Raphael" shows.

Sally and Jerry have become easy targets lately. People blame them for taking advantage of the dregs of society -- the two-tooth-minimum, Spam-sucking, trailer-trash (oops, sorry -- manufactured housing-trash) crackers who are willing to go on national TV and tearfully reveal that they like to dress up in Nazi uniforms and have sex with chickens.

But were it not for Sally and Jerry and all the rest of the trash-talk hosts, what would happen to these people? Who would give them a forum for their troubles? Who else would book both white supremacists and members of the Black Panthers on the same show?

No one, that's who.

I conducted a little informal poll last week. Not one person I spoke to admitted to watching either Sally or Jerry on a regular basis.

But some of them were clearly lying through their teeth. Someone is watching this stuff. For evidence you need only do a cursory online search.

The Internet teems with Jerry Springer sites. There are fewer for Sally, but I think that's because people haven't quite made up their minds whether she's an alien creature or not and they're worried about what planet they might be transported to as punishment if they mocked her. (What's up with those red glasses, anyway?)

In the space of an hour, I found:

• Springer's fan club Web site, which includes a schedule of topics on upcoming shows (bizarre one-night stands, sexy secrets revealed, scandalous confessions, invasion of the ex-lovers); a guest search ("Do you have video proof that your lover is cheating and you want to confront them with it?" "Does your spouse have a gay friend who is interferring (sic) in your relationship?"); and an opportunity to join Jerry's actual fan club, which offers the chance to "view uncencored (sic) video clips" and "make a date in our personals area, 'Trailer Park Romance.'" You can even buy a Jerry Springer doll! Yee-haw!

• The Jerry Springer random topic generator, which offered up pseudo-topics like these: Prostitutes whine about their lives. Ku Klux Klan members get a makeover because everybody hates them. Hicks declare that they're having sex with an 80-year-old woman. Transsexuals whine about their kids.

• The Jerry Springer drinking game. There are several variations of this -- here's another one -- but generally the rules are that participants take a drink any time Jerry says "Don't even go there," a swear word gets bleeped, Jerry tries to have a serious show with a serious meaning or an audience member offers his or her solution to a guest's dilemma.

• The Sally Jessy Raphael official Web site. Here is where the Queen of the Aliens -- oops, I mean Sally -- gets away with asking pretty nosy questions. Are you a pregnant teenager or the parent of a pregnant teenager? Does your man need some training from Sally's Husband School? (The mind boggles.) Would you agree to marry someone sight unseen whom Sally chose for you? Then call the mother ship! Right away!

I must confess that in the last few months I've become somewhat fond of the Sally Jessy Raphael show, which airs in the late afternoons where I live. I guess I could blame it on my job, because the TV is always on where I work, but I don't wish to be disingenuous. I'm not quite a full-fledged member of the Cult of Sally, but I'm getting there.

At least once every week or so, Sally hosts a show in which obnoxious, profane, violent teenagers get sent to "boot camp" by their weary parents ("Sally, Lock Up My Criminal Teen!"). I find myself riveted when bad-ass drill-sergeant types get right in these kids' faces and bellow at them until they cry. It's cruel and harsh and fascinating.

Really, the only thing that disturbs me about Sally's show is this creepy woman, Pat Ferrari, to whom Sally refers as the show's "aftercare specialist." In practically every show, viewers are allowed to eavesdrop while Ferrari "counsels" weeping guests who have just learned that their husbands are having affairs or who have been hypnotized into remembering that they were sexually abused for years.

Really, it's cringe-inducing. On a recent show, a dying woman was confronted by her daughter, who claimed that her mother sexually abused her when she was a teenager and when her mother was flipped out on drugs. Viewers watched as Ferrari bandied about her favorite phrase, "Let go," and the mother and daughter cried buckets.

All of which leads me to another theory. The reason these shows are still on the air is simple: People watch these downtrodden, pathetic creatures (the guests, not the hosts) and realize that their own lives aren't so bad after all. It makes them feel superior and lucky.

And happy to have all their teeth.