Depressed.

I'll have to admit, for the better part of the past week, I really can't get over Kim Kardashian's ass.

Not the ass itself, that is nothing more than a helium balloon mixed with a circus side show in middle-school locker-room. But the fascination social media seems to think we share in her ass.

I have put yeoman-like efforts into finding a way to remove "trending articles" from my Facebook feed. To me those items are like being force-fed National Enquirer stories on alien babies, Elvis' reappearance and John Kennedy being kept alive in an underground lab.

The stupidity of the whole thing depresses me.

What it's all done to our brains.

The incessant blare of celebrity culture.

The lowest common denominator hasn't just triumphed, it's romped.

Maybe it was ever thus.

For every Tapestry of Bayeux, there were a million crude drawings of female pudenda.

You take the ass. I'll take the Tapestry.

I suppose that's right. That's how it's always been.

But I think we in the media business have to take a step back. 

And think.

Because our level of national discourse is so stupid, do our commercials have to be similarly dumbed down?

I'd like to believe, no.

We can still, I hope, impart useful consumer information in an executionally brilliant way.

Or, we can tell a fart joke.

Our choice.