Advertisement - Click to support our sponsors.
Honolulu Lite
"WHAT are you doing?" my wife asked, even though it was perfectly clear I was duct-taping my Sony camcorder to our living room ceiling. Bringing reality
TV to real lifeWe're going online, I told her. From now on, every minute of our lives will be broadcast live on the Internet. Don't you watch "Survivor," "Big Brother," "Making the Band" or "Real World?" Reality programming. It's the latest thing. We'll make a million bucks.
She asked, "Who's going to pay money to watch you sit on that couch and watch television all night?"
Tons of people, I said. It's a weird voyeur kind of thing. People just love to watch other people do nothing. And of course, there's the fighting.
"We don't fight," she said.
We will, I said. I'm putting another camera in the bathroom.
"Have you lost your mind!" she shouted. "You try to put a camera in the bathroom and I'll smack you with the toilet plunger."
Wait! I said, grabbing the video cable. This thing isn't plugged in yet. There. OK. Now we're broadcasting. Yell that stuff again. It was beautiful.
She walked into the kitchen mumbling.
You gotta stay in the living room, I said. For the time being, we only have one camera. And you'd better be careful. With that attitude, you'll be one of the first people voted out of the house.
"What are you talking about?" she said, pointing a wooden spoon at me with apparent malice.
I figure we'll copy that "Survivor" show. Every few weeks we'll hold a tribal council and kick some cast member off the show.
"We aren't 'cast members'" she said. "We are family members. You can't kick family members out of the house."
Depends on which faction you're aligned with. Right now, I've got the dog, bird and seven geckos on my side. Sarah's still on the fence. But I'm increasing her allowance next week. I should have her on board by the first council meeting.
"You might not live to the first council meeting," she said.
Beautiful! I said. But don't look at the camera when you say that. I think we're going to have to pump things up if we want boffo ratings. "Survivor" ratings went through the roof when some of the cast members killed and ate a rat.
"I'm not eating a rat," she said.
OF course not, I said. Don't be ridiculous. We don't have a rat. But we do have that mouse I caught under the sink yesterday. Kinda scrawny, but he may work.
"I threw it out," she said.
You threw out a perfectly good mouse! I shouted, turning my good side to the camera. Then I glanced at Sweetie in her cage.
"I saw that," my wife said. "So now you're going to eat members of your voting alliance."
Not right away, I said. Don't want to peak too early. We need something a little less dramatic. Take off your clothes.
She swung the spoon. I ducked.
Fabulous! I said.
She stormed out of the room. Frankly, I thought she overdid it, but she'll learn.
I grabbed a beer and plopped down in front of the television in my underwear. Alfred Hitchcock's "Rear Window" was on. Perfect. People on the Internet watching me watching Jimmy Stewart watching Raymond Burr through his apartment window. Now that's reality entertainment.
Charles Memminger, winner of
National Society of Newspaper Columnists
awards in 1994 and 1992, writes "Honolulu Lite"
Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
Write to him at the Honolulu Star-Bulletin,
P.O. Box 3080, Honolulu, 96802
or send E-mail to charley@nomayo.com or
71224.113@compuserve.com.
The Honolulu Lite online archive is at:
https://archives.starbulletin.com/lite