So, it’s Friday, which means more "films" are opening today, featuring the emotional siphons actors we know and love(?) If you’re looking for me, I’ll be in line for The Science of Sleep, despite the fact that it seems as though Gondry spent all his time on arts and crafts instead of writing an actual script. We’ll see. Anything to rid myself of the guilt I feel after seeing a movie with absolutely no females with redeeming qualities. On my drive to work today, I noticed every radio station programmed into my car stereo was talking about some reality TV show, or (and I recognize there is a difference, but not much) the guys from Jackass (someone [over 17 and sans bong], somewhere, please explain how this is funny!) Perhaps I should come to terms with the fact that RTV is not a fad, unlike blogging. It will be around longer than Cher or the Iraq War. Anyway, it got me thinking about a time before "unscripted television" nearly ruined the medium***, and it reminded me of my first year of college and my roommates back then. The Bachelor was still the hit show du jour, and I stalked into the room, frusterated at having the goddamn show on AGAIN. Why I oughta….

"These people are morons." I sighed. "I mean you really have to be, like, the dumbest person alive to subject yourself to certain humiliation compliments of clever editors. Honestly, Sarah, sometimes it seems as though Americans have turned into some kind of robot, where their pursuit of the worlds biggest concentration of idiocy in one being knows no bounds." Sarah just shrugged her shoulders. I rambled on. "You’d never find someone of my intellect on a reality programme. I’m not that stupid." She turned to me in that quiet way she always did, and studied me thoughtfully as I whined about the lack of common sense among reality tv show contestants.

"I think your pajamas are on backwards." She said.

…And so they were.

ANYWAY, it’s nice to see so many posts by the new guy, Michael….that guy thinks he is so great. Like, seriously, I’m waiting for him to come to visit the LA office, see the stain on our 90’s dot-com chic concrete floors that looks like Jesus, and be like "You guys, I hate to sound conceited, but this kind of looks like me." I was involved in politics too, you know, as an advisor for Fife Symington. I’m not threatedned!

Whatever. Whatever! I’m still 15 years younger than everyone else here.

***Except you, my darling!!!

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