Since the infamous “Raywat Deonandan’s Bulletin” morphed into Deonandia back in 2005, and migrated to this blog format, hosted by Blogger.com, there have been 665 posts. This, my droogies, is number 666.
All hail our dark lord, Lord Wat!
I’d planned a long cerebral post on the nature of pataphysics, inspired by having watched the thought-provoking film, No Country For Old Men. But I find myself tired and lazy, having just scrubbed my filthy apartment and sadly eyeing a big pile of backlogged paperwork. Sigh. So the pataphysics post will have to wait.
Instead, you get the following:
Speaking of TV, I’ve made no secret of my love for Survivor. This season’s entry, Survivor: China, the 15th installment, has proven to be among the most strategic. (I’ve been particularly enjoying the Survivor “gaycaps”, available here.)
One thing I can’t tolerate on the show, though, is how they keep casting hot, young white chicks who, despite their visual allure, are so freaking dumb that they can barely string sentences together. Seriously, I have to change the channel each time they attempt to having something resembling a conversation, lest I get all dumbified by exposure.
The beauty of Survivor, though, is not its strategy, its game or its scantily clad hotties. It’s in watching the fragility of ego. In the history of the game, it’s a precious handful who’ve managed to retain the appropriate perspective: that it’s a game for $1 million, nothing more. Within a few weeks, the majority get sucked into their microcosmic relationships and forget that their competitors aren’t friends or family, but obstacles. Hence the guilt and indignance following the necessary misdirection that the game encourages. It’s a fascinating study on the nature of human relationships, really.
Have I fully rationalized my TV watching practices now? Good. See you tomorrow for….. number 667!