I am conflicted.
I have recently allowed mass amounts of my own personal "material" into the streets, into the black markets and into the hands of soul-stealing heathens.
I realize that may have come out wrong.
Sorry. I meant that the meat of my most private dreams...
It seems that when I am uneasy I cannot edit out low-brow buns. Puns. Puns. I meant Puns.
Damnit.
Anyway, what I meant to say was that my personal porfolio of reality show ideas has been stolen, and now the world--though possibly being better off with the exposure of my entertaining yet socially relevant docu-stories--will be bombarded with too much of my sub-conscience at once. I truly admire Michel Gondry for being comfortable with people seeing all of his most vivid crazy-time brain activity, but I don't know if the global community is ready for what my gigantic organ has to offer. (sorry again--this time about the unnecessary use of dashes as well as dirty-talk).
When it comes down to it, maybe I should just give you an example of what was contained in my Very Secret Guide to Being a Fox Executive in the Reality Television Division Journal (the VSGBFERTDJ for short). One of my earlier conceptions would simply blow the doors off your conventional reality show and then take those same doors and whittle them down to snowboards that we could totally thrash the competition with:
Show idea #47
Death of a Dream: Bad Dads
The concept is simple. There would be (8) father/son teams (formerly those who haven't talked in at least 5 years) that would rush to make it rich through any get-rich scheme that they can find--pyramid, calling round--you name it. The catch is, they would have to win the start-up cash by playing scenes from Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman in front of Burt Renolds. The teams that play the roles most convincingly (according to Burt), without letting the terrible irony of the text cripple their hope completely, wins the start-up for that next money-making venture. The first team to make a profit of at least $500.00 wins. Oh, and they all live in bad two-double-bed motel rooms for the duration of the show.So, anyway...if you see that show on (or some similar version), you'll know where it came from. JP says it's totally in bad taste and no one would watch something that depressing, but I just saw a show "Celebrity Rehab," and I'm not so sure that wasn't #35 in my journal.
I think I called it "Shoveling S**t, with Dr. Phil." Oh well. Back to the drawing board.
