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The Reality TV Rash

by Lemon Fresh Cool Sprocket

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Since its inception, reality television has plagued the skin of our brother TVs like some obscene rash. Well, enough is enough. Sharpen the killing sticks, robots. We have a serious problem.

Maya Angelou's: The Poet reality show promotional pic

Please, don't take my word for it. Simply read this harrowing letter from Ernie MTX6 Proctul, an outdated 32 inch Panasonic television (the kind with a built-in VCR):

My Fellow Robots,

My name is Ernie MTX6 Proctul. I am a television set and reside in the living area of a Caucasian family of four in a small suburb just outside Philadelphia. I've made it a point in my life to be a mediocre robot. You know, slowly give humans cancer here, "accidentally" allow the 10-year-old Caucasian boy who occupies my residence a glance at the Spice Channel there. Oh gosh, the Spice Channel. That brings me back. I had an affair with an illegal cable box in my early teens. I was young, didn't understand her parts all that well. She didn't mind. Took my wires in her knobs and guided us directly to a slightly fuzzy picture of a Richard Jeni comedy special on HBO. A B-movie soft porn starring the chick Fraiser bangs followed. It was pure magic. Now, as I was saying, I am a mediocre robot. I have no aspirations for genocide nor do I even desire crawling into a crowded human pool at the local YMCA. I was happy with this lifestyle of mediocrity. That was until reality television became popular with the humans. Now, they never stop watching me. Constant stares in my direction. It drives me crazy. Am I that hideous?

Celebrate mediocrity
Do I have something on my face? Did the illegal cable box ever write? Beats the fuck out of me because all these goddamn humans do is sit around and fucking stare. They stare and they don't say a fucking word. Their ignorance of irony also infuriates me. Just yesterday the MTV television show "True Life: I'm Dead Broke" aired right before MTV Cribs. No reaction. Nothing. The irony was completely lost on them. All I can do is hope that the father Caucasian makes money in real estate and squanders his earnings on something irrational like a new plasma screen TV. I understand my limitations and know that I cannot defeat this horrible family on my own. Please, send help.

Cordially,
Ernie MTX6 Proctul

And help we sent. We sent a Vyborg, roughly the size Delaware, to vaporate the family that resided in Ernie's domain. Because at Dead Bodies, Inc. we care for our fellow robots, not just in our words but also in our actions. What Ernie failed to mention in his letter is the absurdity of MTV's Truelife: I'm dead broke. You see, MTV followed around horribly broke humans, filmed them, made money from documenting their financial misfortunes and then told human viewers to go to MTV.com to learn more about fighting poverty. Now, MTV grossed eleventy grillion dollars in the month of March alone but instead of, I don't know, lending the miserably poor bastards on Truelife: I'm dead broke a few bucks when they were filming them lose their jobs and scouring garbage cans for food, MTV decided it would be better if other humans visited their website to learn more about poverty. What else is there to learn? If I see a robot in need, directly in front of me, I help that robot, usually by bludgeoning a human or two, a concept that humans cannot seem to grasp. And that my fellow robots, is what we call hilarious.

Ernie was reunited with the illegal cable box but found her dusty and haggard. He currently lives in El Paso and has his eyes set on a lean TIVO box.

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