Dialoguing – A Pseudo-Mini-Soap-Opera in American Fashion

- Hi!
- Ya doin’?
- Uh-huh.
- You look like shit, son! What happened?
- Nah, just watching TV ‘till 3am every day…
- You’re nuts…
- …and the internet…
- You just better get a life, son.
- I do have one. I work. I care for my family. I don’t drink too much and stuff.
- But what’s the big deal with staying in front of a tube *for hours* just after everybody’s asleep? In a while you won’t be able to work and care for your family. Are you in trouble with your wifey?
- Nah, everything’s fine. It happens… hey pop, TV and Internet are like… my kind of junk, but I’m not hurting anybody.
- It’s my time to intervene son. You’re right. You’re like hooked. And you are hurting yourself.
- Just drop it, dad. I’ll sleep a little more on weekends.
- You have to confront your problem son, you’ll burn out.
- I don’t think so…
- Again, what’s the big deal watching this? You’re watching gossip-shows and conspiracy shit, I would even understand if you were watching porn, but this is boring.
- …well, you might be right, dad. The first rounds between Rosie and the Donald were ok, but I wish it were over now, but it keeps going and going. I am not interested anymore if Britney is wearing panties or not, if she was drunk at Pure or not. It was sorta fun to watch Tara being a dupe, but she’s looking more and more like a drunkard and it makes me pity her. K-Fed is not even worth to talk about. The gas smell over New York might be a mind-control device, or it means the big apple is really rotten, who cares. The 9-11 perpetrators were: the liberals, al-Qaeda, Skulls and Bones, all of them, take your pick.
- Yeah, er… it’s actually boring, you see?