Showing posts with label television. Show all posts
Showing posts with label television. Show all posts

The "I" of Survivor: An open letter to those who choose to read it (including CBS-honcho-types)

It has come to my attention that Survivor will be back on TV this autumn.

I am referring to Survivor - the television programme. Not Survivor the early 80s rock band… that one you love to listen to when you hit the gym.

That's a peculiar expression. How does one "hit" a gym, precisely? It makes me nervous. I can only assume that it’s steroid-related…

Yes, Survivor - the television programme - is coming back AND it will be shot in the Philippines. I’m excited because I feel that my expertise could help producers, contestants and Survivor fans alike. It could potentially even make Survivor - the television programme - more pleasurable.

I am not a Survivor expert. I only watched the first season when it aired... what, ten years ago? I enjoyed it immensely, almost as much as I enjoyed watching Richard Hatch's life unravel afterwards. It was exciting, groundbreaking and several other questionable -ings. But I've been busy for the last twelve years and have missed the subsequent seasons. There must be at least fifteen now, correct?

I would love to be an expert on the Philippines but I’m not... in case you're wondering. You're not, but I thought I should clear that up as well. I don't even remember how to say "hello" in Tagalog.I did spend a week in Boracay once, so that must count for something. Boracay (in case you’re still wondering) is a resort-type island over there. It would actually be a good location for Survivor - the television programme - they are both places where foreigners go to behave badly.

No, my expertise lies in giving unsolicited advice that nobody wants to hear. I therefore think it's fair to combine this talent with my aforementioned experience to tell the makers of Survivor - the television programme - how to take full advantage of the Filipino experience to ensure that what must be their fourteenth season is the best one yet.

(Related: Why does the PH-noun turn into a F-adjective?)

First, we need a "hook" to reel in the viewers, much like the spears people use on the show itself. This could be achieved by using the airline that flies the Manila-Boracay route to drop the contestants off at the "secret location" (Is it a secret?). Fear of death is a great motivator and makes for great television, or so I'm told... I tend to watch Bob Ross reruns on PBS. Air Duct-Tape could provide this in spades. Air Duct-Tape earned its name, as you may gather, by having no qualms about using duct-tape to hold their planes together. The silver almost matches the colour of the wings. Almost. Sadly, this was one of their more brilliant business decisions.

If this doesn’t meet CBS’ fear standards, they could also hire Richard the taxi driver to fly the Air Duct-Tape plane. Richard's Manila taxi permit clearly states that his name is Manuel but he insists that you call him Richard. I'm certain that with this sort of blind determination, Richard/Manuel could easily fly a plane whilst the contestants defecate. Also, Richard/Manuel would be more than happy to bring the machete he keeps beside the passenger seat in his taxi. It could come in handy if any duct-tape-related repairs are needed.

One of the most engaging parts of Survivor - the television programme - is the "immunity challenge". When I think “immunity”, I see “alcohol tolerance”. Richard/Manuel could airlift the contestants to Boracay where they would be dropped off at Dick's. Dick's is a bar just off the beach that is owned, oddly enough, by an Australian named Dick. I'm not sure how Dick ended up there and to be honest, I'd rather not know. There is only one rule at Dick’s: It is strictly forbidden to wear a shirt whilst in the bar. This fits into the Survivor-ethos and shouldn’t cause too much confusion. Also, Dick likes to drink and expects his customers to do the same. As far as challenges go, can you think of a better way to eliminate the weak? If you like to wear shirts or are prone to developing cirrhosis of the liver during one night of drinking, you're out.Immunity should be earned, not won...

This brings us to the season finale, where two contestants match wits to see who will win the million dollars (is it still a million dollars or has inflation caught up with realityTV?). The Philippines are well-known for two things: The Marcoses and ladyboys. Imelda Marcos seems rather busy lately, so this leaves us with the ladyboys to decide the winner. The last two (drunken) contestants could be blindfolded and led to a clearing with four attractive (in a drunken kind of way)… I believe the correct term here is "convincing ladyboys". We would watch with baited breath as said ladyboys wind through dark jungles and cramped city streets in the middle of the night with our Survivors.

Our almost-millionaire contestants would then find themselves in a dingy, menacing no-bedroom house where they would be offered oral sex by the ladyboys. They would also be warned about making too much noise and waking the fourteen brothers and sisters who are sleeping in beds, sofas and on the floor.

Think of the drama! We could watch our survivors wrestle with their conscience and/or ladyboys (possibly even with the whole family). Difficult decisions would be made. We would then follow them as they cry and stumble through the maze of shantytown houses, desperately trying to find their way back to the producers' air-conditioned office/trailer. The first person to find his or her way back with his pride, dignity and clothing intact wins!!

I'm quite certain that these suggestions would be beneficial. It has it all... Drama, danger AND sexy ladyboys. So let’s start a letter-writing campaign! Drop what you’re doing. Write to CBS and Mark Burnett. Together, we can make this happen. We can rise up, back on the street. We just need to take our time... Take our chances. We can go the distance! We will survive! Right after we hit the gym.

Mabuhay! (That's Tagalog. You can look it up.)

My favourite hope for the future

This makes me want to take off my belt, wrap it around a bitch's neck and choke her out. Right after I join a gang and punch my mother in the face...

My favourite question about soap operas (plus: hornets!)


I don't get it.

For years, I have tried to understand the appeal of daytime soaps but I just can't wrap my head around it.

When I was a kid, I would come home from school or from delivering papers (by the way, you'll have to remind you to tell you about my stint as the oldest Paperboy in Australia sometime...) to find my older brother on the couch, completely wrapped up in General Hospital. This may not seem particularly odd, but my brother was the tough, hockey-playing, get kicked out of school for the day type. I always found it odd that he would willingly immerse himself in a world of overwrought, contrived emotion, day after day. I imagine this is the reason I've always been fascinated by what soaps have to offer. So thanks for that, big brother o' mine...

The writing is generally atrocious. The acting is forced and weepy. The storylines are... well, you know... soapy. Why do people get hooked on this kind of stuff? With the exception of Passions, which had its tongue firmly planted in cheek and was a lot of fun because of it, these shows are just unwatchable. It seems to me that voluntary suspension of disbelief can only go so far, and the people responsible for this stuff cross that line regularly.

Is there something I'm missing?

Because I just don't get it...

I was planning on going into quite a bit of detail here, but I just looked at the time and I have to run to class. We're translating a scientific text on hornets. I didn't like hornets much before. Now that I've read about them in great detail, I'm scared. Terrified, even.

Did you know that a hornet can sting you up to ten times before it dies (unlike bees who have a weird death-wish that causes them to leave half their body in your flesh with their stinger) or that a dying hornet sends out a pheremone-like distress call to its buddies so that they can come and attack you?

Now you do. Sleep tight.

Am I happy? Or am I terrified?

Neil Gaiman's Sandman being developed for the little black box that tells me to buy things...