shereads
Sloganless
- Joined
- Jun 6, 2003
- Posts
- 19,242
Congratulations on what is turning out to be one of the most realistic seasons of your ground-breaking reality TV series.
Naturally, I am flattered to have been included as a contestant in "Survivor VII: Hurricane Season." So I hope you won't think me ungrateful when I volunteer to be voted off the island.
To begin with, I'm certain that I was selected by mistake. I would never have applied to be on your program, even for the chance to become famous like Richard (Robert?)...You know, that naked guy who won the first season of Survivor.
Trust me, your casting people must have me confused with another Shereads at a different Decaying Jungle Compound. My idea of roughing it is running out of L'Occitane lavendar bubblebath. No hard feelings, okay? I am more than willing to concede my place as water-gatherer for my team ("Ebola Tribe") so that the rightful contestant can enjoy this character-building experience and the chance to win fabulous prizes.
Speaking of prizes, people are speculating that this will be the first season of Survivor not to award any prizes, as well as the first to have no camera crew or medical emergency team, or god help you people, lawyers.
Silly, I know. Of course there will be prizes! You wouldn't put people through more than two hurricanes, weeks apart, if the ones who ate the most bugs weren't going to win prizes! I only mention these whispered rumors to give you an idea of how well the teams are bonding. Tempers flare sometimes, like when the guy in front of seventy cars at a gas station fills his Hummer and five large gasoline cans. And yes, there has been some violence toward meteorologists - but only the ones whose enjoyment of this storm season is so obvious that it comes across on a static-y little battery-powered black-and-white TV. (That grinning idiot on Channel 6 had it coming. My biggest regret is that I wasn't close enough to take a swing at him myself.)
But overall, we're just one big happy family of multiple hurricane survivors. Nothing breaks down social barriers like standing in line for our FEMA allotment of Bandaids and sunburn ointment and surplus TV Guide magazines, after another afternoon of clearing fallen trees with a dull handsaw, wearing clothes that were most recently laundered before Hurricane Wilma, or maybe Rita. Or was it Katrina...
In summary, I don't care if there are prizes unless one of them is the name of a person who can be blamed for the weather - someone other than Scooter Libby - and the means to exact a cruel revenge.
Thanks again for this opportunity, but I must insist that you locate the correct contestant and make the necesssary adjustments, asap. I would sooner feed my grandmother to piranhas than endure another week of this. Don't even ask what I'd do to your grandmother.
Respectfully,
Shereads
Ebola Tribe
Survivor VII: Hurricane Season
P.S. Shereads' Theory of Power Outages: No matter how many batteries and camp lanterns you own, you will never escape the fear of running out before the lights come back on. That's why you'll never have more than a four-foot circle of faint light in your house at any one time.
Naturally, I am flattered to have been included as a contestant in "Survivor VII: Hurricane Season." So I hope you won't think me ungrateful when I volunteer to be voted off the island.
To begin with, I'm certain that I was selected by mistake. I would never have applied to be on your program, even for the chance to become famous like Richard (Robert?)...You know, that naked guy who won the first season of Survivor.
Trust me, your casting people must have me confused with another Shereads at a different Decaying Jungle Compound. My idea of roughing it is running out of L'Occitane lavendar bubblebath. No hard feelings, okay? I am more than willing to concede my place as water-gatherer for my team ("Ebola Tribe") so that the rightful contestant can enjoy this character-building experience and the chance to win fabulous prizes.
Speaking of prizes, people are speculating that this will be the first season of Survivor not to award any prizes, as well as the first to have no camera crew or medical emergency team, or god help you people, lawyers.
Silly, I know. Of course there will be prizes! You wouldn't put people through more than two hurricanes, weeks apart, if the ones who ate the most bugs weren't going to win prizes! I only mention these whispered rumors to give you an idea of how well the teams are bonding. Tempers flare sometimes, like when the guy in front of seventy cars at a gas station fills his Hummer and five large gasoline cans. And yes, there has been some violence toward meteorologists - but only the ones whose enjoyment of this storm season is so obvious that it comes across on a static-y little battery-powered black-and-white TV. (That grinning idiot on Channel 6 had it coming. My biggest regret is that I wasn't close enough to take a swing at him myself.)
But overall, we're just one big happy family of multiple hurricane survivors. Nothing breaks down social barriers like standing in line for our FEMA allotment of Bandaids and sunburn ointment and surplus TV Guide magazines, after another afternoon of clearing fallen trees with a dull handsaw, wearing clothes that were most recently laundered before Hurricane Wilma, or maybe Rita. Or was it Katrina...
In summary, I don't care if there are prizes unless one of them is the name of a person who can be blamed for the weather - someone other than Scooter Libby - and the means to exact a cruel revenge.
Thanks again for this opportunity, but I must insist that you locate the correct contestant and make the necesssary adjustments, asap. I would sooner feed my grandmother to piranhas than endure another week of this. Don't even ask what I'd do to your grandmother.
Respectfully,
Shereads
Ebola Tribe
Survivor VII: Hurricane Season
P.S. Shereads' Theory of Power Outages: No matter how many batteries and camp lanterns you own, you will never escape the fear of running out before the lights come back on. That's why you'll never have more than a four-foot circle of faint light in your house at any one time.
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