If This is Reality, I'll Take Fantasy

A few years ago (who can remember?) a show called "Survivor" debuted on national network tv. They say it was (and still is) a successful show. I don't know. I've never watched it. It was so successful, that it's spawned literally dozens of clones that put (usually) young, photogenic and athletic men and women through a host of trials and embarrassments with the end result being that one contestant wins a pretty good prize.

The winner of "Survivor" gets money. A million bucks, if I'm not mistaken.
The winner of "The American Idol" gets a record deal.

And on and on. Who can keep track?

After avoiding these shows for a long time, I finally followed "'70's House." The daughter of a friend, a very talented aspiring actress, was a contestant. She did well for a few episodes, but was ousted because she couldn't perform in a roller disco bit. She'd never learned how to skate. For shame!

Speaking of skating, I just finished following "Skating With Celebrities." The award episode is still to come, but my impatience won't allow me to wait through the time-wasting that has already accompanied the waning eons of the show. It was better when there were more contestants. My curiosity as to which couple will actually win has been soundly trounced by my boredom at watching all the phony complements and the interminably stretched out dialogue.

I watched a few episodes of "Dancing with the Stars" (I don't know which stole the idea from the other.), and found it to be the very same show, with tall pumps in place of skates. The female dancers were in a contest to see who could best shake their cute little butts. I don't remember any of the guys. After two hours of pure inanity, punctuated by short periods of butt shaking, they finally awarded the win to the girl with the best butt.....and the guy she was with.

Meanwhile, I was reading libertarian blogs, looking up occasionally at the scarce watchable moments.

So, I'm an ice skater, and an ex-hockey player. That's what got me into watching this stuff. Now, I'm cured. "Fear Factor" will have to do without me.

They've killed Freedom! Those bastards!

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California