As much as America clearly loves watching “reality” television, we’re not necessarily all that good at dealing with reality when it comes to our daily lives. But sometimes, you just have to man up and face facts. With that in mind, I present the harsh truths I finally must accept.
I will never ride in the Cash Cab
Now that the Discovery channel has canceled the show, the closest I’ll ever get is hearing my friend Bruce tell of the day he and a friend wound up in Ben Bailey’s hot seat.
Oprah won’t be giving me a car.
Granted, the odds of my being in her presence as she pointed to people and shouted, “And you get a car! And you get a car! And you get a car!” were slim even before her self-titled network proved the biggest bomb since THE SECRET LIFE OF DESMOND PFEIFFER (which at least had the common decency to die quickly).
THE EDGE OF NIGHT won’t be coming back.
Of all the soaps I’ve loved and lost, this one — a mystery sudser that ran on both CBS (from 1956 until 1975) and ABC (from 1975 until 1984) still hurts the most.
I’ll never know what happened to MORK & MINDY.
Back in 1982, the final episode found the alien and his wife heading toward an unknown fate after diving into a rift in time. “Whatever happens, we’ll have each other” he said as they held hands.
D.R.P is never going to hit the airwaves.
A decade ago, in a fit of self-declared brilliance, I pounded out two scripts for a dramedy called D.R.P. about four women and their search for their “Divine Right Partners”, aka the person they were meant to be with. (I sent it to potential agents with a letter proclaiming that “If the women of SEX AND THE CITY were interested in finding true love rather than the perfect orgasm, they might well hang out with their DRP-seeking sisters.”) Hey… maybe if I pitch it as a reality show and get a Kardashian — even a lesser one who’s just kinda kicking around — to produce it? The dream lives on!