If I were a liver I would be rotten by now. While this opening statement could easily be applied to the current condition of my internal organs after many loud nights out on the town drinking with friends (some which did not include going out - or friends), I am instead referring to my former habitation of the city of New York, followed by a last minute and painful transplant into the body known as Los Angeles, and finally, becoming a transplanted transplant back to my original corpus. I have walked among celebrities (even spent the last 9 months working for one). I have basked in the golden rays of the California sun, sought shelter in the needle-sized shade of the palm trees. I have tasted the oasis of the city of angels and I have spit it out. Yes, my friends, I have been there and back. Now I am returned to the Big Apple with a pungent taste in my mouth that even an entire pack of Icebreakers couldnâ€™t break. Oh, the stories I have to tell! Yes, there are many. Many, many, many. So I begin a short little series where I will share some of the insights I have learned during my absence. And since they say"time is of the essence," let us begin with exactly that- the Pacific Time Zone.
And the winner of Survivor: Cook Islands is - Wait a minute! What about the votes? Where was the ridiculously exaggerated 8-hour finale? What about Jeff Probst's 6,500 mile helicopter ride from the South Pacific to Hollywood in less time than it takes me to grab another beer from the fridge? What about my beer?!? I'm still at work! I'm not even near copping a buzz. But there it is- bold print on the homepage of MSNBC.com: "Yul Wins Survivorâ". The horror! Months and months of wasted hours watching that overly produced (but very polished) reality show and the payoff comes in the form of accidentally clicking the wrong bookmark page of my web browser while I waste away the final hours at my job.
This is where I have to draw the line. I HAVE to speak up. The West Coast is just dumb. What a stupid time zone. Miller Lite and football at 10:00 AM? (See, told ya - the liver's shot.) And now the finale of every reality show (and wasn't it you, West Coast, that sucked me into these reality shows?) keeps me on the edge of my seat. Not because I'm anxious to find out the winner, because I'm anxious to NOT find out the winner. I don't want to hear it until I see it.
Even the Today show is a repeat. By the time the West Coast hears Al Roker tell them that their weather will the same as it was yesterday he's already lost 3 more pounds! It's just not right. And I'm not being selfish about this. Our domestic time zone fiasco is on its way to initiate an international disaster! When the terrorists learn about this we are finished. Allow me to indulge you with an eventual script from a CNN broadcast:
REPORTER: This just in - we have breaking news. Mahama Shalama, chief secretary of all the global terrorist groups, has just aired this announcement:
(Cut to video)
MAHAMA: People of the United States of America. In the name of Allah and all the misinterpreted suras of the Koran, I am pleased to inform you that we have smuggled a nuclear device into one of your American cities. The device is set to detonate at 8:00 PM unless are demands are met by 6:00 PM.
Panic ensues. Mothers grab their crying children and hold them to their bosoms. Fathers run to the banks to withdraw their savings in preparations for an economic collapse. The presidential cabinet holds an emergency session to discuss their response. After much outspoken alarm, shock and outrage, the chief of staff stands up and says: "Wait a minute. The room falls silent. Did he mean Eastern or Pacific time?
The president weighs in with his usual quick thinking:"Could have meant Mountain." And though everyone agrees he probably didn't mean mountain because nobody ever pays attention to that time zone, there is still total confusion as to what to do. They become consumed by this new question of exactly when the deadline will arrive. Federal committees are set up. State and local officials elect new members to serve on new boards. Citizens hold impromptu town hall meetings to weigh in on the new dilemma. And in the meantime, as the country comes together with the first public recognition that 4 separate times zones are indeed a confusing problem, a black mushroom cloud towers into the sky and the end of our civilization as we know it begins.
You see? The end of the world just because Los Angeles wants a little extra light before dinner. I don't care what part of the sky the sun is in. People, we are the United States of America- one nation, one God, one time zone. Itâ€™s as simple as that. Survivor begins at 8:00 in the East, it should begin at 5:00 in the West. But that's too early! Well, fuck off, LA! The East was here first!