reality tv of the future pt1

November 29, 2008

reality tv is perhaps the most perfect entertainment that could ever be devised.  the plots approach shakespeare in their terrible momentum.  alcohol greases the bearings of these shuddering human engines, swinging like pendulum from surly drunk to remorseful hangover.  the chemical cocktail of hormones, seratonin, and booze boils over in the vein, finding enemy upon enemy in the closest surroundings.  violence and sex are a thin sod over the fiery mantle of pure human will that lies beneath.  these people would eat each other and rape the others with their sun-bleached bones.  you and i would, too.

poverty becomes the perfect feast for the insatiable pack of starved wolverines that is the ideal reality tv audience.  promises of wardrobe, free alcohol, fame, and suprisingly small amounts of money nonwithstanding, these shows are simply offering a place to live and be yourself to the willing.  more than these understandable physiological and psychological needs, they offer something that used to be achievable only through years of internal reflection and painfully slow stages of self-awareness. they offer nothing less than becoming totally self-actualized.  you show up joe dipshit and exit joe2.0, joe-for-the-future.  joe-as-seen-on-motherfucking-tv-motherfucker.  you will drink and fuck for free for the rest of your life.  you will be famous.  you will be adored.

eventually, poverty will be seen as the crime it truly is, and the impoverished will be gathered and screened for their inherent entertainability.  the best ones will be set upon each other naked in a beautiful house with oversized beanbags and neon exclamation points, with a billion dollars of alcohol, cocaine, protein, and meth. the naked drunkards will be branded and tagged, attached to one another with leg irons like a modern chain gang, and carted around from bar to concert in hummer limos.  they will be exempt from every law, given weapons, sterilized and given full constitutional rights to rape, eat, and murder anyone they want.  perhaps one of these scandalous bitches ‘accidentally’ catches an axe to the face from another member of the crew.  no problem, the other members will simply have to drag the rotting corpse from red carpet to car show in penitence for their shame.  a real moral to the story.

these shows will have names like ‘darwin’s posse’ and ‘da gizzang’.

the angry constant eye of my tv already feels lonely for the future.  it remembers the recent, dismal past of talk show and documentary.  it looks at the pathetic shadow of the present- where normal folk drink and date, maybe pull each other’s hair a little and scream.  it drools on its haunches for a time when people will pull the spanish tiles up out of their multi-million dollar network-supplied bathroom suites to brain their chain-mate for using their mascara without asking.  i wait with it.  i’m working on picking out the right 5 dollar california shiraz to drink over a meal of strip-steak and murder.

i’m moving to hollywood.  it won’t be a big move, since i already live in sherman oaks.


the slumberer awakes from the underwater city!

a billion rejoicing new cases of psychosis turn their tinfoil helmets to the north.  is it HAARP?  is it the aliens? 

bill o’r’lyeh combs back his face tentacles and puts on his calvin coolidge mask for another episode.  the human gristle is loaded into the gaping orifice of the networks for one more peripatetic chug which births factories as it accelerates across the seas, floating factories where chemical engineers are busy at massive vats.  the chambers are sealed with twins and quadruplets seperated in a round with aging eugeneticists and their genetic intellectual kin.  a hole opens up in the tiled ceiling and a holographic plate drops through with perforated holes in its cylindrical perimeter.

the holographs whir into life, as a colorless gas emits from the baseplates.  a shape forms on the oblong mirror whirling faster than sight.  a tiny woman of eurasian descent, begins screaming about “HATERS” and “HATERATERS” and “LET YOUR HATERS BE YOUR MOTIVATORS” as she hazily outlines a cult of personality defining herself.

this young woman, of course, is being beamed in from her test tube in santa monica, california, where she has been audience tested.  the new method includes strapping electrodes to the prostate glands of heterosexual men in addition to measuring the saliva production and pupilary dilation of prepubescent girls.  it’s a foolproof method.  the only side effects are that it gradually reduces the viewer to an infantile state.  these side effects are welcome.

cthulhu began directly influencing the billionaire media congolmerates through dreams and toxins that he excreted into the pacific ocean.  untestable because they are unknown quantities of exotic proteins, they work their way into the human biomass through sushi.  soon after this started happening, there was a revolution in focus groups.  the masters began hypothesizing that they could predict the infantile state and create a test audience in a test tube, and then feed the subjects to each other when they got too old.

those are the twins and quadruplets.  their brains become soiled and too easy from being barraged with this information, so they are only good for a few minutes of unadulterated viewing.  the average american tv watcher is soiled beyond repair.  you give them the right cues, and they will buy guns to shoot their mothers.  this would be quite handy, except that capital always needs NEW markets, new ways to persuade the last heating, rent, and food money out of the consumer.  the husk of humanity with its terrible dreams of wealth and love is then discarded.

so we switch course, switch tack, take a new approach.  drugs are added to the water supply, stars insipid beyond a retarded lemur are chewed up, spit onto reality shows, and then retired to communities where they can drink and eventually start car dealerships or kill themselves. 

cthulhu has recently begun union organizing these enclaves of discarded celebutantes.  he has been making them dream of fires and burning men in suits and labcoats.  his wrath is perfect and poetic.   the political commentators who notice these trends are also fed to the masses as specials on meat at costco.  they holler and whip their constituents into a frenzy, which logically leads to their own consumption.  every commentator knows this, and has sidled up to the dread lord of insanity hoping for a seat at the throne.

so first off i don’t actually have anywhere close to a billion dollars.   i hover at any one time around the 4 figure mark, with heady ascents into 5 figures that quickly become depressing slogs through 3 figure doldrums.  but that won’t stop me from robbing and murdering, raping even, to get a billion dollars for the person who solves this puzzle.

we need to consider two things:  the pacific ocean garbage patch and nanotech.  the pacific ocean garbage patch (google it, i’ll wait) is a massive, texas-sized patch of plastic trash floating in the middle of the pacific ocean.  it’s replacing a significant portion of the food chain, and basically insuring our demise on the planet.  now before you go and hang yourself…

the other consideration is nanotechnology, which promises riches such as molecular sized filters that will scrub water of their toxins, creating the next revolutions in manufacturing, war, food, etc.

so will someone plz make a atom-machine that we can dump in the goddamn ocean and degrade the plastic quicker?  THX  for my part, i promise to bone up the dough.  who cares how i do it.