e are a nation of watchers. Actual experience is replaced by voyeurism time and again with the release of each new Fox reality show. People watch and chuckle and ogle and stare at the bumbling mishaps of those unfortunate enough to sign onto the Real World or Joe Millionaire or a thousand other permutations of not-quite-reality. Then, we apply the same entertained detachment to the news and the comings and goings of the world. CNN is just another reality show. Bush is just another Big Brother. What room mate will he pick a fight with next? Will it be Libya? Perhaps Syria? Or that silly dog-eater in North Korea? Maybe it's someone we've never even heard of. Tune in each week. You don't want to miss the ever-present but always exciting 'twist'.

Warning! The following passage contains a spoiler: The reality show commonly known as The Other Real World, starring Gee-Dub Bush and Rich "I'm a Dick" Cheney, is not actually a show. It's [pause for effect] real life! Whatever that means these days. True, it's got all the trimmings of a reality show, which for years sat somewhere between a sit-com and the humdrum happenings of life, including the overly-dramatic, socially inexperienced players, the challenge of living with people who aren't exactly like you, and the huge house, decorated by some yuppie hipster, but you've been had, viewers. It's not staged (though Gee-Dub's election may have been).

Yeah, I know, never saw that one coming. You may have been astute enough to guess the end of Joe Millionaire or For Love or Money or even The Osbournes. But this one was unthinkable. You mean all that "War on Terrorism" crap is real? The Axis of Evil? Yeah, it's all real. I know it sounds make-believe, but sadly, it is not. Shock and Awe all around. But wait! That's not all! Are you ready for the real 'twist'? Rich Cheney has been bilking us for millions and pocketing the Iraqi people's oil. Well, he's not doing it, but his former company, Halliburton, is. Dick just reaps the benefits. No matter. Near the end of his fame-filled fifteen minutes our attention will be draw away by some other, less politicallly damaging shiny object...

Ooo, there's a new show on! California Reccall. Who knows what'll happen on the October 7th season finale, which has now been postponed for a show about the ACLU standing up for minority voter's rights (days late) and technologically advanced polling stations (and dollars short).

In the battle to keep ratings up, what new challenge will the producers of The Other Real World cook up next? Will it be a further-floundering economy? The outbreak of some new exotic virus? Perhaps it will be Sunday night Terrorism Terrorism TERRORISM!! At the San Antonio Sports Arena Sports Arena SPORTS ARENA!!

Whatever it is, be sure to watch how Bush comically stumbles through our nation's newest troubles and gains cash and prizes (read: Halliburton bonus checks, under-the-table kickbacks and dividend tax deductions) for not getting voted out of the house on Capitol Hill.

It's just another show. Just another dose of reality programming. It couldn't possibly be real though, or there would be more outrage, more protest, more complaint over it all. Instead, there is only anomie. Detachment from reality. No emotional reaction other than what we would feel in watching a movie in a theater. Rather than playing a part in the real real world, we prefer to let others do it while watching from the safety of our comfortable IKEA couch adding a rapidly growing three-hundred pounds to the nation's obesity problem.

Sigh. I think too much. Why can't I just sit back and enjoy? Most of the world's problems don't bother me much anyhow. Unemployment? I've got a job. Terrorism? I don't know anyone who died. War in Iraq? I don't even know where that is, thank you American public education system. But for some liberal-hippy-commie reason, I do give a fuck. At least I give a little fuck. I'm not actually going to fix anything, not actually going to be constructive and offer solutions. No, I'm just going to bitch and moan and spout mentally meandering verbal diarrhea on an unknown, unread and unliked web sit set up solely for my personal amusement. Perhaps I'll create a poorly drawn cartoon to wittily capture my sentiment. A picture is worth a thousand words. Unfortunately, each of those words is Fuck-it-all.

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