by William Blinn
A JOB APPLICATION
Recently, there was a motion picture in which a sports franchise plucked a
fan from the stands and handed over the reins of the team to the eager onlooker.
I suggest a network do the same and hereby apply for the position.
I do not seek a long-term post. Somewhere there is a network honcho who has
compiled an oversupply of sick days and needs the time off. Six months would be
enough, I think. The network executive could recharge his or her energies, and I
would be given sufficient time to implement the following changes and thereby
change the face of the medium forever.
First, any network programming executive who was found to have Clearasil in
desk or purse will be swiftly escorted from the premises.
Any network movie advertised with the phrases "based upon" or
"inspired by" may not star any performer under 21 years of age who is
currently starring in a sitcom for that network.
Network programmers will be required to wear blindfolds at all pitch
meetings. This will allow them to be neutral in regard to cleavage, trendy ear
studs, or the color of the pitcher's hair, or lack of same.
Dramatic directors who open scenes by shooting through aquariums will be
shot. Probably by a second unit.
Writers who pitch concepts to the network most show some ability to actually
write. Going to the right parties, the correct fund-raiser, or leasing a humvee
will not be considered "writing."
Actors will be informed that wearing an Aids ribbon twice a year does not
excuse boorish and unprofessional behavior during the other 363 days.
All producers of series dealing with the paranormal will be expected
to wash Chris Carter's automobiles at least once a week. And, yes: Armorall.
Writers who use the following dialogue:
"Look."
"No, you look."
will be shot.
"Reality based" programming will not be permitted to put anyone on
camera who wears a hairpiece.
A manager, agent masseuse, lover, or relative of the star who demands
Producer/Executive-Producer credit will be asked to direct a scene in which
there is an aquarium.
Soap operas will be required to have one actress who is twenty-three pounds
overweight, is delighted with her life, and whose sexual gifts steal the her
away from a character named Jennifer, Tiffany, or Shane.
An finally, the network programming day will be trimmed back. This will
enable Conan to get the teeth capped and Greg Kinnear to realize that,
what-the-hell, it was worth a shot. The end of this broadcast day will, on all
networks, end with the following crawl:
Life is complicated. Joyous. Sad. Hilarious. Painful. As much as we need to
laugh and to be entertained, so do we need to think and turn away from
simplistic and easy answers. We need to embrace truth with the same love with
which we embrace our children. In fact, our children and the truth are surely
the same thing.
We now end the broadcast day.