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Keepin' it real

I am a first year. You should remember that, because it's going to affect a lot of what I write this year. I may from time to time write about dorms or attempt to portray the mutual experiences of our (sometimes) irritating, skinny, flipped-collar crowd that travels to Rugby Road in massive groups and makes you wait in the dining halls. If I do, forgive me. That said, let's move on to my inaugural topic -- the importance of reality television.

I recently saw fliers advertising a group called "Hoos for Reality Television." Judged solely on the basis of its name, this group is of an importance on Grounds equaled only (perhaps) by the Honor Committee and the Board of Visitors. Reality television is the most important thing any of us can watch. Not just because of the hot girls on "Survivor," and not simply because of the "WWF Smackdown"-style boardroom meetings on "The Apprentice," but because reality TV serves today as the best excuse we have for intelligent social introspection.

Our time here at the University should be about a lot of things. We should grow and make friends and have fun (maybe primarily). We should learn how to think, write and read (even in the E-school, God bless their tortured souls). We should learn how to look at the world. It should be one of our most sacred obligations, though, to examine the society we live in and draw our conclusions about it.

Now, some might say that the best way to do that is to build oneself an academic lens through which to view the world, whether one finds that in Art History or CHEM 181, with Sabato or Sofka, in higher math or music. Some might argue that we should all run to the Center for Politics or the Cavalier Daily. These plans are all excellent. I, for one -- though I appreciate all of them and will probably end up involved in most -- find them somehow lacking. Instead, I turn to reality TV.

Everything I need to know, I learned on "Survivor." "Survivor" creates this extraordinary microcosm of Western society, and whether you want to talk about Adam Smith's invisible hand or Plato's focus on the tension between reality and appearance, it all ends up dancing across whatever faux-aboriginal set they work up for the Tribal Council.

William Golding had nothing on Mark Burnett. Instead of "Lord of the Flies," why don't you just buy "Survivor: All Stars" (now available at Amazon.com for $37.49, with free shipping and handling), then you'll really understand the darkness at man's heart. "Survivor" is like a crash course in modern sociology -- it lets us see the underlying structures of society when the layers of convention are peeled away by high stress.

Every first-year guy ends up running across the "'Survivor' effect" at some point. As he nears the gauntlet of a Rugby Road frat party entrance and realizes that he is walking in a group with 10 other guys and two girls, he is struck by a basic conflict. With whom does his obligation lie? Which is more important, his self-interest (getting into the party) or his perceived loyalty? How can he best manipulate his resources to bring about his desired end? Who should get voted off, when, and in what order? Next time on "Survivor: Rugby Road." The temptation to resort to voting off the island becomes almost irresistible at times. When my suitemate managed to steal from me the position of Conservation Advocate for our dorm, I seriously considered extinguishing a torch in his face while coolly informing him that the suite had spoken.

"Survivor" can tell us about our natural state and our essential viciousness, but for anyone trying to get by in the capitalist society of the West, "The Apprentice" can take the place of both the Comm School and an Econ major. It serves as a primer on both what to do (as the cameramen, with extraordinary good fortune, manage to capture shots of the Donald making earthshaking deals on the fly, week after week) and what not to do. In fact, if I end up in business, I might end up modeling my behavior by simply doing the opposite of everything Team Apex is doing this season. All the virtues and absurdities of the corporate system are embodied more clearly in a few minutes of this show than Dilbert could hope to get his flipped-up tie around in a year.

The lessons we can learn from their incomprehensible stupidity, however, are not limited to the world of business. When dealing with an irritating suitemate, one can always take the high road by calmly quoting Jenn of Team Apex: "The really pathetic thing is that you think you're popular and liked." She didn't last long after that one. I might actually use that one on my suitemate, the stealer of conservation jobs. Did you know that job pays $250 a semester? I hate that guy. Similarly, when you get shot down in mid-pick up (and it happens to all of us, don't try to hide your face), you can simply appeal to Raj's wisdom: "I have a rule that when in the presence of such a beauty, I simply have to give it a shot." And when push comes to shove, we can all take a page from Trump's playbook: "Just shut up."

What it all comes down to, friends, is that the world is a wide and marvelous place, but even here in the middle of one of the world's finest educational institutions we all need a lens that focuses the intolerable vastness of the horizon down to a more manageable magnitude. For some, that lens is Dante; for others, the Yankees. For me, though I appreciate those perspectives, the best way to wall off the terrible immensity of the universe is to pull open a folding chair, pull out a Coke and settle back for two hours every Thursday night, as my soul heals slowly in the soothing light of pure American stupidity glowing on my TV screen.

Connor Sullivan can be reached at sullivan@cavalierdaily.com

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