because my life is more interesting than yours, and I think you know it


Blithedale, etc.
January 22, 2010, 12:58 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

The Blithedale Romance as reality TV. Communal sleeping rooms? Confessionals? More drinking than actual work going on?

Yes, please.

How might this story have turned out had it been on network television, competing with the likes of Wife Swap, My Big Fat Redneck Wedding or The Simple Life (Priscilla would totally be Paris Hilton. Pale, waif-like, not a lot going on upstairs…)?  I’d like to think of Blithedale taking on a set up similar to The Surreal Life.

“The Surreal Life: Blithedale”

Starring…

Christopher Knight as Silas Foster

Jose Canseco as Hollingsworth

Vanilla Ice as Coverdale

Charo as Zenobia

Jane Wiedlin as Priscilla

They would have their daily chores, just as they do in the novel, but in the evenings, instead of reading aloud or dressing in costumes impersonating works of art, they would meet with Sally Jesse Raphael (cleverly disguised as Westervelt) at which point she would air the “Dirty Transcendentalist Laundry” of the community.

“Coverdale,” she would say, “You admitted your dirty, carnal, lustful imaginings of Zenobia’s naked body in Confessional last night. Let’s take a look at that footage.”

At which point, Coverdale, would jump from his seat, but then stand frozen in horror as his detailed vision was repeated for the entire group to see.  Zenobia would perhaps be speechless for a moment or two, then playfully make a sarcastic, slightly cutting remark to Coverdale.  Coverdale, in interest of saving face, collapses into his chair, buries his face in his hands and sobs, “I wish I were dead… I wish I w-w-w-were deeeeeaaaaaaaddddddd.”

Priscilla would think about comforting him, but would be too nervous to actually make the gesture.

Silas Foster may choose to sit in disgusted silence.  Or, being of a coarse nature, would be greatly amused by Coverdale’s less than gentlemanly behavior.

This is the point that all the previews from the previous week would be cut from:

Hollingsworth, in a fit of jealousy and rage, stands up and throws his chair at the screen (missing Westervelt by mere inches).  He might take this opportunity to curse at Coverdale, Westervelt, or even Zenobia. Maybe even all three of them.

“Come on, Priscilla. We are outta here.”

And with that, Westervelt flips through his notecards, not knowing what to say next, killing air time, Zenobia kills herself onscreen by taking an overdose of whatever drug is fashionable at the moment, and Coverdale is irritated that no one seems to be paying any attention to him anymore.

Roll credits.

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Free your mind…
January 17, 2010, 10:43 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

…and the rest will follow