Game shows are a travesty to mankind. Every single one of them. I should know, because I was on one for exactly four minutes and thirty-two seconds; enough time for the producers to eagerly pump me up as a blue collar working man to the rest of the audience, just so they could eagerly watch me fall flat on my face. It’s entertaining to pull the rug out from under a guy’s feet and watch him come crashing back down to Earth. When he lands, you can point and laugh, and tell yourself, “Yeah, he’s still one of us.” Comforting, isn’t it?
That’s how all those game shows are, though. The commercials try to make them out like it’s Plain Jane’s chance at the big time, the American Dream; tune in to find out if she’s the one to finally punch that golden ticket – that whole bit. And sure, we might tune in, but not to see if she makes it. The TV is on so we can watch her fatal flaw reveal itself in our living rooms as she commits to making that one mistake. We tune in to make sure the universe is still right and that no one is ever really a winner.
You’ve probably seen my episode, too. They’ve replayed it a couple of times, and who knows – some say I’m destined to be put on one of those “Most Outrageous Game Show Moments” type montages, because so classic was my moment, right? Of course, the game show to which I refer wasn’t actually on the air for all that long – just enough to make a big splash of notoriety and cause a storm of controversy before getting cancelled for the next big flop. I’m sure the show will be back on TV in a couple of years or so, when Hollywood runs out of ideas to recycle. They’ll probably spin it, too; make it fresh, get real creative and call it “The NEW I Cannot Tell a Lie!”