A RANT TO THE TV AFTER WATCHING PLANET EARTH
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Published: February 1, 2025
Author: Daniel Conderman
Context: Recovered Conderman.Group comic monologue
Original URL: https://conderman.group/2025/02/a-rant-to-the-tv-after-watching-planet-earth/


Listen up, TV. Yeah, you, glowing oracle of nature's so-called wonders. I just
spent an ungodly number of hours watching Planet Earth, and I have some things
to say. First off -- how dare you? You sit there, smugly broadcasting
high-definition footage of nature being all "majestic" and "awe-inspiring,"
acting like you just blew my mind, when in reality, you subjected me to an
extended infomercial for the chaos machine that is this planet.

Oh, look at the noble polar bear, struggling to find food as the ice caps melt.
Look at the delicate balance of the rainforest ecosystem, where every bug,
bird, and fungus has its perfect little role to play. Isn't it fascinating how
the world fits together like a beautifully crafted puzzle? No, TV. It's
terrifying. Everything is eating everything else, and the only reason half of
these animals look graceful is because they're running for their lives.

You showed me a snow leopard -- an elusive, nearly mythical creature, master
of the mountains. And what do I get? Twenty minutes of a mother desperately
trying to feed her cub while a narrator whispers, "She hasn't eaten in three
days..." Great, thanks. I wanted to see a cool cat leap across a ravine, not
experience existential dread about the state of carnivorous motherhood.

And don't get me started on the insects. Why does every rainforest have at
least one bug whose entire purpose in life is to look like something it
absolutely shouldn't? Here's a leaf that's not a leaf. Here's a stick that's
not a stick. Then there are ants that farm fungus, wasps that mind-control
their hosts, and spiders that mimic dancing birds. Is this a documentary or a
sci-fi horror flick?

Also, way to ruin the ocean for me. Every time you lull me into a false sense
of serenity with sweeping underwater shots, you cut to something horrifying.
Deep-sea fish with flashlight faces? Check. Octopuses that can fit through a
hole the size of a Cheerio? Wonderful. Squids that communicate with pulsating
skin-rave patterns like alien Morse code? Fantastic. I'll never be comfortable
in salt water again, so thanks for that.

And THEN, you have the audacity to keep circling back to climate change,
showing me melting ice caps, bleached coral reefs, and animals on the brink of
extinction, all while I sit here wrapped in a blanket, sipping coffee,
powerless to do anything about it. I just wanted to see elephants splash
around, not get a full-course meal of existential guilt.

Oh, and the birds. I thought I was safe with the birds. Nope. You gave me a
front-row seat to some poor feathered Romeo doing a six-minute moonwalk dance
only to get rejected by a disinterested female who barely looked up from her
twig nest. Nature, it turns out, is just as brutal as Tinder.

So, TV, what am I supposed to do with all this knowledge? What am I supposed
to do with the fact that whales have culture, dolphins have names for each
other, and mushrooms communicate through underground fungal Wi-Fi? Am I
supposed to feel closer to nature? Because right now, I mostly feel confused,
alarmed, and slightly betrayed.

I need a break. I need something simple, predictable, and not narrated by
David Attenborough making me question my entire existence. So if you'll excuse
me, I'll be watching something much less stressful -- like Shark Tank.