Dead Aim

Yep, another day of producing television with no socially redeeming value.

Not surprisingly, the longer I work in television, the less television I seem to watch. You see, I’m not even really a fan of reality TV. Sure, I’ll cop to watching Survivor (this is anonymous, right?), but that’s only to tide me over until the new season of Six Feet Under.

I used to feel kind of bad about being a cog in the great reality television machine, but I’ve become jaded over time and the paychecks have come in handy. Painfully, I must admit that somewhere in the depths of my soul, I derive some pleasure in watching people making complete fools of themselves. I’ll spare you the train wreck analogy.

You’d think after all this time, people would learn that there’s a good chance of being embarrassed coming on a dating show like mine, but they don’t.

This is the future of America, folks. People who think “conversate” is a word. People who think flashing the golden globes or twig and berries within five minutes of meeting someone is the best way to get attention. People who dance like THAT, and you know what that means. Every day there’s a whole new crop of 21 to 25-year-olds wanting their slice of the pop culture pie, and every day, I’m there to help them humiliate themselves.

Let this be a warning to you. If you come on my show, I will make fun of you. Mercilessly. And I won’t feel bad about it.

I have to be racking up major amounts of bad Karma, right? I’ve thought about this and my place in the universe a lot. I figure since my wife has just gotten her Ph.D. (note to self: wife is smarter than you… watch your step) in clinical psychology, I’m set. I tear them down and she builds them back up. The way I see it, she’s the Yin to my Yang, doing right in the world where I’m doing wrong.

Then again, people have told me to stick it up my Yin-Yang, so I’m not really sure where that leaves me.