About the Casey Anthony Media Orgy

I first heard the name Casey Anthony approximately a week and a half ago, and, really, it wasn’t until yesterday that I grasped the details of the story.

Even before I glanced at the first sensationalist headline it had become yet another yada-yada infanticide case for me. Infanticide cases should not, of course, be categorized as yada-yada. But they are relatively common. In fact, I’m wondering if the appalled masses realize just how common it is for a baby to end up dead, either due to negligence or intentional homicide.

So why are my neighbors in Chicago just as obsessed with this case, a Florida case, as they were with Drew Peterson, or the Riley Fox murder? They may even be more obsessed. Not that geography should determine interest, but come on. We’re Chicago. Cute, photogenic kids get popped by stray bullets on a semi-regular basis. Plenty of them are neglected, too. Where is the outrage?

But, for one reason or another, Caylee is the dead baby we, as a nation, are most incensed about. That’s fine, I guess. It’s better than outright indifference.

I will say this, though: the Anthony trial is a ratings bonanza because it is easy on our collective conscience. It’s puff. There was only one definite bad guy: Casey. Two, if we count the alleged crimes of the father. No one outside the immediate family can be deemed responsible. It’s not society’s fault. It’s simple and straight-forward. Or at least, pretty simplified by the media.

It concerns me that we’ve fixated on a morality tale that means so little. I mean, other than the inherent tragedy/freakishness of murder. We’ve reduced it to nothing. Surely, Christian advocacy groups will take the narrative as a signifier of the breakdown of the American family. But Casey’s acquittal tells us virtually nothing about ourselves. It hasn’t been an opportunity for us to question broad social policies. Nancy Grace’s adamant contempt for Casey Anthony has not, thus far, been turned against the abysmal child welfare system.

So, in the end, who cares? When the news stations hit another slump, they’ll ferret out another spectacle for the public to feast upon. Nothing too filling, just some marshmallow puff or some sweet whipped cream that will dissolve in seconds. God forbid we consume a hardier meal.