Só gente bonita

Since I get home at midnight and we don't have stolen cable, no longer does dinner hour pass by in dubbed CSI episodes. The tight structure of american tv makes blatant its theft of your life- at commercial time, mid-grip of a mystery, you know that when the episode is over bed-time is upon you and you have not lived your life.

Thus the brilliance of Brazilian TV- it doesnt want your full attention. In a room of yapping godmothers on Sunday it just wants to be another voice, taking hold of the conversation no more or no longer than any other Nega.

By midnight the Novelas have released their grip and a real classy presence hits Rede-Tv. It's Amaury Jr, the godfather of society television. Whisky drinking, chain smoking, jug eared, pockmarked, user of suits where the tie is skinny and the suit shirt has a really small, round-tipped collar that I have never seen before but must be common in the world of italian fashion. I all makes him look a little bit like an emaciated Alf.

Most importantly, the man does not mess up. Check the hold on the microphone. That's Frank Sinatra Jr, by the way. Just another fish, and Amaury skins them all with class. Arm around the women's waist. Every name, every buisiness with which it is associated, flawlessly dropped. He doesnt just say, this is Paulo, President of XX, tell us about whats going on here at the Copacabana hotel, no, he lays the red carpet out for the guy, explaining everything for at least 30 seconds, so that the interveiwees first response is always. "Exatamente Amaury. "

It has to be that smooth, because the majority of the people are paying him to visit their new restaurant or club. Its a question I can't answer: you start a new upscale french restaurant, why are you going to pay supposedly over 100 thousand bucks to bring a TV crew in there and film people eating in unflattering light, proving againg that society people aren't actually gente bonita. Are the wealthy of Brazil, like me, up at midnight eating rice beans and beef in front the TV?