You Think I Don't Know

You think I don't know. When I talk to people at work and all they talk about are insurance plans and Scions. They're hawking products. Why?

I know my whole life has been broadcast on national television. Every building I walk into has a "security" camera. Everybody has a camera phone. Every traffic light and toy has a camera. My subvocal thoughts have been transcribed by computers.

Fuck it. I'm not going to dwell on it -- you know damn well that my life is on TV. And I know the next thing you will say is no one watches my show anymore. How can they? I never involve myself in any steamy sex. I never win any contests. I never get fired. Still, someone somewhere must like my show. You're reading my blog anyway, motherfucker.

The whole idea of a blog was invented for the purposes of my show. Since I was 12, I wanted to write, but was too lazy and shy to do it. Two years before the end of my 30-year contract (I'm that good -- I know the show will go off the air next May [and no, I won't start a failed Hollywood career]), everybody makes a big stink about blogging and how anybody can write and potentially become famous overnight. So here I am with my blog, and perhaps by next year, at the end of the whole damn series, I will become a great writer and move to California to languish in obscurity as a Hollywood hack.






Enough digression. What I aim to show you is just how good I am - to show you the fifteen reasons that I have rightfully deduced that not only have all twenty nine years of my life been broadcast on television, but that the network is ABC. Since I have recently concluded that my life is on ABC through ratiocination, I am using the conspicous ubiquity of ABC's semiotic overload as evidence that my life is on ABC. I will go through the points chronologically.



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