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Reality TV: If Osbourne can do it, why can't I?

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By JAN GLIDEWELL, Times Columnist

© St. Petersburg Times
published May 10, 2002


As I contemplate retirement -- which comes with the right to whine about living on a fixed income -- I still look around for ways to supplement that income doing, of course, as little work as possible.

I have tried investing in a mutual fund and in the stock market, but that experience so far has indicated that I would have saved more money by developing a crack habit and selling off my household appliances for five or six dollars each.

Many people think I should write. I can usually thin the ranks of that crowd by asking which of them will pay me.

But it just may be that Ozzy Osbourne, a.k.a. the Prince of Darkness, has shown me the way:

Reality television.

Osbourne has turned himself from fading rock star to national celebrity almost overnight by allowing television cameras to film him and his family during their day-to-day lives, or at least what they want us to think are their day-to-day lives; and, as I noted here a few columns ago, the result is hilarious.

Osbourne, it turns out, is as befuddled as the rest of us by the actions of his near-adult children, who fight constantly and frequently act like spoiled jerks; although, as one of them points out during one episode, having a father best known for having bitten the head off a live bat does limit your social options.

He has animals who make messes all over the house; some neighbors who are a pain in the neck; trouble, at 53, keeping up with the physical demands of his job; and a wife who won't let him get away with anything.

In short, he is just like me except that his house is bigger, he has more animals, his kids still live with him and he has more money. Except for the luxury motor home and private jets, we could be brothers.

Okay, there is also the matter of musical talent and having the restraint not to smother obnoxious kids in their sleep, but I could still pull it off.

If any reality TV producer wants to put a few cameras in my house (trust me, it would take a lot fewer than are in Osbourne's mansion) and monitor my day-to-day life, I could, for a price, be had.

My family and I don't swear quite as much as Swiss Family Osbourne and Company, but I was a Marine, and I can teach them.

Cat messes are not nearly as dramatic as those made by the Osbourne's bulldog, Lola, but cats are much sneakier about it and there is a whole "find the mess" drama that would make for excellent reality television. I don't eat bats' heads, but sometimes late at night find and eat things in my refrigerator that would rival some of the stuff they eat on Fear Factor. And I assure you that I am as good as Osbourne will ever be at looking confused, nonplussed, befuddled and slightly scared of a world that makes increasingly less sense.

One more Jeb Bush commercial about how he has improved education would put me right into character.

The show would be chock full of humor, such as the day I learned that you can't microwave tinfoil, that fact that all of our white towels and my white underwear are now pink because of one teeny-tiny red T-shirt that got into the wash or the telethon we are having to raise money to have my stepdaughter's cell phone surgically removed from her right ear.

I haven't broken my leg jumping up and down on a stage yet (although there was that one embarrassing pants-dropping episode at my wedding) but I do, daily, find reason to question my wisdom a couple of years ago in picking an office on the third floor of a building without an elevator.

My wife, like Osbourne's, is the brains of the operation and usually keeps me from hurting myself or others, although she does amuse herself by moving every object in the house at least twice a week so that I (a) can never find anything and (b) trip over the things that I do find.

We can offer humor, pathos, colorful language and a slice-of-life look at life with a Nudist Buddhist who, like Osbourne, is regarded as Satan by some but not quite as many people.

I have left messages on the voice mail of a television producer friend of mine, but the machine obviously isn't functioning correctly as I have not yet received a reply.

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