Mr. Steve-o The Psychic

There’s this new craze sweeping across the television landscape. You may not have heard about because it’s a new trend. Heck, I had not even heard about it until a few months ago and I write for TV. None of my scripts ever get accepted (and rarely acknowledged at that) but that should make me more or less a television guru.

This new trend is a little something called “reality television”. It’s brilliant really. You take a bunch of regular-ish people and pit them in an extended competition. Sort of like American Gladiators on steroids… which may actually have been the pitch for American Gladiators. I guess that would make these shows more like the Jeopardy Tournament of Champions, only replace knowledge with highly specialized talents like singing, modeling, and dating. It is from these shows that I realized I too have a highly specialized talent; I’m psychic.

Yes, I am currently 3* for 3 in my predictions of the winners of The Bachelor, America’s Next Top Model, and American Idol. My pick for The Bachelor gets an star because I picked the girl that ended up usurping the fickle heart of the dude after the end of the season. I guess either pick in that case could be correct but I’m not the guy who proposed to one chick before dumping her for the other. (Ed. note: At least not on TV).

The next pick was a bit more of a crap shoot, but I went with with Wind Blown girl over Peanut Butter Mouth and Plain Vanilla. She almost let me down with a bad competition near the end but the modelling gods (Tyra?) prevailed. Speaking of Tyra Banks, I will never forget the time we shared a sunset tea on the coast of Madagascar. Or maybe that was the cold, drunken night I spent lying in a puddle with a mangy rat. I get confused sometimes. I’m not trying to imply Tyra is comparable to a mangy rat, you’re just jumping to conclusions because your simple mind can’t handle juxtaposition. That would be an awesome Scrabble word. You add the juxta to position, dummy.

Finally, we reach American Idol. An epic battle between Emo and Plain Vanilla. Yes, I’m so talented I came up with the same nickname for two different people within the span of a few weeks. Anyway, it was pretty obvious that the soccer moms of the world prefer vanilla over strawberry. Needless to say I was not surprised when Jolly Ol’ Pip brought out the verdict.

What I have learned from these recent events is that I too need a reality show. In fact, I should just send a portion of my memoirs to Fox as a pilot for the show. My life story is basically a combination of the best parts of 24, House, and <insert third most popular non-animated Fox series that will end up cancelled by next season>.

Your Pal,


The pen is mightier than the pencil

I’m anti-pencil. It’s a an odd thing to be against, being that it is mainly just a personal choice and quite inconsequential overall, but it’s something that I truly believe in. My stance is especially strange being that I pretty much refused to write with a pen until high school, and even then only for classes that forced us to hand in work in pen.

At the time, I suppose that I was won over by my fancy side click mechanical pencil, which wrote clearly than my smudgy cheap pens, and the handy eraser. You know what? That eraser is a crutch. It’s the literary equivalent of only writing the perfect sentence; the artistic equivalent of only drawing a Mona Lisa; the hockey equivalent of only playing if you score a hat trick; The Ghostbusters cartoon equivalent of only having fans because it had the same name as a popular movie. Wait, I’m not sure if the last one supports or disports my point. Also strange is that my spell checker said disports is a word; probably not what I mean but it’s a word. Even more strange is that I use a spell checker.

The point is that the eraser holds people back from success. It is too easy to become focused on the aesthetics or quality of small segments of the overall project. By focusing too much on the little details you can easily destroy the creative thought process. With a pen, you forget about mistakes quickly and learn to scratch out things you don’t want. That seemingly unimportant content is never completely lost with pens, unless you use that creative toxin, whiteout. Erasable ink is pretty stupid too. Let’s all get permanently temporary tattoos!

We as a people need to learn to accept mistakes and focus on continuing instead of continually backtracking. I know I accept your mistakes. Well, sometimes I accept them… occasionally. Ok, so I never accept your mistakes, but that’s just because I’m so unfamiliar with mistakes, never having made any myself. For you tree hugging hippie folks out there, pens contain less carbon and murdered tress. So put down those pencils, pick up a pen, and join the revolution frivolous campaign against the evil pencil industry!

Your pal,