When I think about TV as a whole and complete model, I always think about the daily sitcom rerun. Some Cosby artificial laughter, a daily dose of it. Every day. Synth loop, joke, artificial laughter, serious part, artificial crowd going “ooh”, remotely sexual part, artificial crowd going “woo”, artificial laughter, synth loop with credits. Every day.

To this day, I feel like I’m a part of the Winslow family and that Steve might be looking at me right now - “did I do that?”, or that this gray haired guy from Step by Step is going to come by and lecture me about condoms, or that I might start a barroom fight and Will Smith would have to come to my aid, and then his uncle would rescue him. You never know what synth loop will come by next with the familiar feeling of a family spreading out their lives in front of an artificial crowd.

Some channels used to have a whole series of them, one followed by the other, every day in the same order. Same synth-loops I can’t get out of my head backed up by some brass instrument. Oh so much fun, almost orgasmically nostalgic to be watching those shows, and the feeling of sitting down wasting your day after you hear the second synth loop. There’s some nice weight to that, which no series could possibly ever recreate without being, well - a sitcom. It’s one big vouyer experience through decades.

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It’s been a while that I’ve been going on about cakes and pies as metaphors for life. I think a lot of people would like to see this thing published in a nice little cover one day, but the soft cover of the internet seems to fit just fine for now.

My little metaphor about everything, is that humans (possibly animals too, but I wouldn’t know) are all stuck in one big kitchen making a cake.

Before the cake is complete, you wouldn’t want to eat it, and either you ruin it somewhere along the process (abrupt death) or just the cake might go bad over time while you’re still trying to make it. (natural death)

To complete the cake, a person needs to finish all his goals.

As for what these goals are - I don’t know. I really don’t. It’s probably just a matter of trying to fish that out of yourself.

Dushkin.
R.G.