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Big Brother, I’m watching you
When people think about the early part of July, the day that immediately springs to mind for most is the Fourth of July or, as it is known patriotically, Independence Day.
Being of Scottish Heritage I certainly love the idea of breaking away from oppressive English rule and family clans congregating for picnics and gatherings. But us Scots are known for being a thrifty lot, so let WaMu (now Chase) pay for the expensive fireworks, thank you.
Certainly I acknowledge the day and like it very much, but the reason I look forward to the first portion of July, at least for the past decade, is because that is when the CBS reality show “Big Brother” gets rolling for the long, hot summer. I am sorry for those of you who are of the opinion that this is the lamest excuse for the occupation of hours of television air time, but I am absolutely enamored with this program.
“Big Brother,” for my money, is a fascinating study of emotionally stressful, sociological and psychological behavior. Here are different personalities with exceedingly diverse ages and backgrounds, from different geographical areas of the United States of America, being forced to live under the same roof. It is an exciting experiment on a behemoth scale, of human demeanor morphing or how the house guests react to different stimuli under some pretty unorthodox living conditions.
One of the few staunch rules for participants in the Big Brother house, where one is supposed to expect the unexpected, is that contestants cannot “go postal” (display physical aggression, outbursts or altercations with their fellow house guests) or they are gone in a heartbeat.
They can play wicked mind games, shout their heads off, lie, cheat, steal, brazenly betray their supposed alliances or even run around stark-naked if they choose to, but violence is not tolerated.
I maintain this a good thing, because there are men and women of all ages and builds, who naturally get irate at each other sometimes. But this one paramount regulation prevents people from hurting someone because they are all keeping their eyes on the prize – and after all, who wants to blow a chance at 500 grand.
The Type A personalities, power trippers, ego trippers, body builders, ex-military, brainiacs, maniacs, airheads, passive peace keepers, man hunters, woman haters, taciturn jerks and hopeless romantics are quickly exposed.
Participants, who are in unavoidable close-quarter contact with each other, ultimately find it nearly impossible to disguise who they truly are. One of the best shows in this regard was Big Brother Nine, which featured my boy Evil Dick and his biological daughter, who he abandoned at a very young age.
In one of the shows Evil Dick, who ended up winning all the marbles in the end, tried to get the remaining contestants in the house to despise him. He walked around in the wee hours of the morning banging on a pan with a wooden spoon, waking the other house guests, to assure they would vote him out of the house instead of his little girl, who he was willing to be a martyr for, as they were both up for elimination that week.
OK, you had to be there, but trust me it was hilarious.
Well, there it is. Now the whole Plateau doth know about one of my vices
Happy Fourth of July everyone, but please, please, please remember fireworks and excessive amounts of booze are a really bad combination and a certain recipe for ruining an enjoyable Fourth of July celebration.
Rest In Peace: Ed McMahon (faithful Johnny Carson sidekick), Farrah Fawcett (sex symbol of the 1970s and ‘80s) and Michael Jackson (King of Pop, fortune and fame, who with the help of Seattle’s own Quincy Jones produced the most popular album of all time, selling some 80 million copies worldwide).