The Frightening Reality... TV

Dear Dysfunctional,
One of the current blights of mankind in the present day is a religious ritual which its promulgators term "Reality Television".  Its critics have given it the scornful title of "oh, come on.  This is so obviously scripted.  I mean, there is no way this crap happens in real life.  I mean, the wife has obviously had plastic surgery even though they live in the middle of freaking nowhere." This is not the complete title; it continues for a couple minutes in more complex jargon that most people consider unfit for general consumption.  Now, it's not entirely justified.  Why, you ask?  well, my fine feathered friend, (or perhaps you don't have feathers; though some of my detractors have claimed that my writing is for the birds) it is unfortunately true that this is actually unscripted.  I'm sorry, but these things, though perhaps a little *ahem* dramatized, are in fact bearing some semblance to real life. Now, if these scenarios were totally disconnected from reality and written by writers out there to shock and create emotional ties and rifts, then it would just be like the rest of TV drama, as stupid as that also is. However, these shows are about people who are actually performing this way in front of tens of thousands of viewers on a regular basis. So essentially, this bears some semblance to how they live their real lives. I happen to find that scarier than a show about midwives. Well, given that these reality TV stars do exist, perhaps the best solution is to stick all of them on the next season of Survivor and leave them there to form their own dysfunctional colony. Either that, or we could ignore them entirely and stop endorsing their pathetic behavior by throwing them out on TV.
Bye for now,
Gilmore Smalles

PS song of the day is... Australia, by The Shins. And idea credit to my editor/... editor, Iris Vipperman or Iris Hanlin or whatever alias she is going under right now.

Workout Satire

Dear Dysfunctional,
And now, an excerpt from my workout journal.


Day 1:
In preparation for my new workout regimen, I took it upon myself to visit such premier stores such as Walmart and... Walmart in search of proper fitness equipment. The first item on my list was fairly easy to find; roughly three metric tons worth of bottled water. I view this purchase by way of a longterm commitment: as it is, I now have enough of the most plentiful compound in the world to last me in this fitness program until about the ripe age of 120. I figured this based on the estimate that my rigorous cardio should demand about three quarts of water, fortified with crystal light, per diem. The second item was somewhat more difficult to locate. I cannot understand why it is so difficult to locate headbands in purples and oranges, an item so popular during the nineties. Upon continuing, I was shocked by the exorbitant pricing of small three quarter pound weights. Upon reading the price tag, I paused for an executive decision and have resolved that, for the betterment of my budget, I can sacrifice a modicum of my professional image by substituting the weights with a pair of hefty soup spoons. Next, I purchased every Madonna CD I could possibly lay my hands on. I figured that I would need music not only to keep my blood pumping, but also to assure any other runners in the near vicinity that I was knowledgeable of the nature of the pastime, and not an amateur who was not even aware of the close connection between running and music. Lastly, but not leastly, I selected a pair of flamboyantly coloured Nike shoes. I chose the most expensive pair, which were around the price of a small car. I find this appropriate, as I have sold my car in the expectancy that in the near future, I will be able to run to any of my more patronized locations. The only thing I fail to understand is why the shoes are so expensive, despite the fact that they seem to be made with minimum materials. 


This has been a short excerpt of a small journal that continued for four or five days. Tune in next week for the continuation of this inspiring true story. And just remember that you too can drop those extra pounds; all it takes is determination, resolve, resoluteness, will, purpose, courage, boldness, steadfastness, and liposuction. 

Stay strong and resolute and courageous and determined and steadfast, 
Chase Mulliett 

PS, song of the day is totally irrelevant, Diamonds On The Soles Of Her Shoes, by Paul Simon.



  


 

A Return To Pre-Copernican Astronomy

Dear Dysfunctional,
Once there was a child.  He awoke one day to find himself in a landscape foriegn to the utmost to him. Around him, he found all the axioms of his experience, all the absolutes and all the truths, were shattered.  About him individuals were encapsulated, in glass globes from which they could view the world, view each other, but trapped inside their glass prisons, they had no knowledge of what the others were.  They had always been as they were then, and trapped immobile, they had no way to know that everyone around them was as they were, they thought of each other as poor, miserable creatures; they thought of the other humans around them as inferior creatures because they were trapped.  Their perception of each other was one of pity for what they belied themselves was a state worse than their own.  For each in their own globe thought themselves above the others, a diety among mortals.  Yet they never considered that they themselves were exactly the same as the others around them, they were so absorbed in stroking their own ego that they never considered that they too were in a frightful plight.  So long had they been trapped that they had forgotten, forgotten what it was to actually move.  Little by little they had enslaved themselves, for they too were once free. But they had accepted their own globes, they accepted the globes because they sheltered them against the elements.  Gradually the globes shrank. Gradually, the people forgot who the other humans were. They even forgot they were humans at all: they had grown so calloused in their ego centrical environment. They lost all their old memories of freedom and of each other.
Bye!
Cailliau Berners-Lee