How are we going to survive reality for the next four years?

In the summer of 2001, one year after CBS's Survivor became the first breakout "reality" hit on network TV, encouraging all the networks to produce similar shows, I remember hearing friends and other people say, "This trend won't last." But the following summer American Idol debuted, and it was as big, if not bigger, than Survivor. The fox, and not just the Fox network, had gotten into the chicken coop.

The networks, and especially cable channels, like reality shows because they're cheaper to produce than scripted shows. Donald Trump's presidential campaign spent half as much money as Hillary Clinton's, but Trump still won the states necessary for him to win the election; the star of NBC's hit reality show The Apprentice, produced by the same company that unleashed Survivor on the world, beat the odds.

And even though reality shows aren't really "real"—they're partly scripted to maximize drama, and the people on-screen, despite not being professional actors, are often seen acting out for the camera—they indulge viewers' appetite for voyeurism and rubbernecking, just as Trump indulged in racist, xenophobic, and misogynistic comments to woo like-minded voters.

My supervisor at work reminded me of the scene in Back to the Future in which Marty McFly is trying to convince Doc Brown, in 1955, that he's traveled back in time from 1985.

Doc asks Marty who's the president of the United States 30 years in the future.

When he hears the answer he scoffs, "Ronald Reagan? The actor? Then who's vice president—Jerry Lewis?"

President Reagan reportedly liked Back to the Future. But the thought of four years (or more) with Trump as our president sends chills down my spine.

a comedy sketch I wrote for a Second City writing class in 2004 about the Chicago Cubs and failure

For once—and only once—I'm happy to be proven wrong. Congratulations, Cubs.

"FAILURE" by Robert Cass

3/14/04 (version #2)

CAST

Peter Hillman - white, 36

Alex Hillman - Hispanic, 12

(The Hillmans' backyard on an afternoon in April.)

(Peter and Alex are playing catch.)

PETER

You're going to have the best time tomorrow, son.

ALEX

I guess.

PETER

Your first Cubs game. Your first chance to see the legacy up close.

ALEX

I've already been to a Cubs game.

(Alex drops the ball.)

PETER

What?

(Alex picks up the ball and throws it back to Peter.)

ALEX

When I was six. It was Orphan Night at Wrigley Field, so the orphanage took us.

PETER

                     (disappointed)

I didn't realize.

                     (loudly)

Grounder!

(Peter throws a grounder to Alex, who bobbles it.)

ALEX

All of us got our picture taken with Sammy Sosa and the Dominican flag. Nobody seemed to care that we were Puerto Rican, but it was still fun.

                     (pause)

I still want to go tomorrow.

PETER

Okay. Good. Because becoming a Cubs fan isn't just about baseball.  It's about learning how to live with failure.

ALEX

What do you mean?

PETER

The Cubs haven't won the World Series since 1908. They haven't even been in the World Series since 1945, which was almost a century ago.

ALEX

Well, actually, it's 1908 that was almost a century--

PETER

                     (continuing to talk)

Some people would say the Cubs aren't worth the hair that's about to start growing all over your young body, Alex, but those people know nothing about hope. They think it's easy to create a winning team out of thin air, but it's just like bringing a child into this world. It takes perseverance. And lots of money. And maybe even a scientific breakthrough of some sort.

ALEX

The Cubs never give up, huh?

PETER

No, they give up every season sooner or later. But the fans never give up, no matter how many times they're let down. And tomorrow you'll begin to understand what hope really is. Tomorrow you'll begin to see what failure is all about.

ALEX

What if the Cubs win?

PETER

(laughs)

That's my boy!

                     (loudly)

Pop fly!

(Peter throws the ball high up into the air. Alex catches it a few seconds later, then speaks.)

ALEX

Dad?

PETER

Yes?

ALEX

I don't want to play Little League this summer.

PETER

What are you talking about?

ALEX

There's a summer math program at MIT that my teacher told me about. It sounded like fun, so I applied for it.

                          PETER

Well, don't be disappointed if you don't get in, okay? Think of it as a learning experience so you can brace yourself for future disappointments.

                          ALEX

But I got in. The letter came yesterday.

                          (Peter doesn't say anything.)

ALEX (cont'd)

So is it okay with you if I go? Mom said I could.

PETER

Alex, you signed up for Little League last month. You have to honor your contract, just like the Cubs do.

                     (loudly)

Hard grounder!

(Peter throws the ball at Alex's chest.  Alex catches it, then drops it, then picks it up and throws it back.)

ALEX

That wasn't a grounder.

                          PETER

I changed my mind. You've got to stay focused.

ALEX

Okay, but ... see, MIT's practically paying me to go there for the summer. The Stanley's Wash-and-Shine Rangers aren't paying me anything.

PETER

That's not how Mr. Stanley operates.

ALEX

But I don't like playing baseball. I'm not a good athlete.

                     (slight pause; proudly)

I'm a mathlete.

PETER

Alex, remember what we said about not using made-up words in the house? That applies to the backyard too.

ALEX

Sorry. But it's true. I'm never going to be any good at baseball.

PETER

(long sigh)

You're right. You're absolutely right. You're not that valuable to the team.

ALEX

                     (surprised by Peter's honesty)

Well ... yeah, I guess.

PETER

So you admit you're a failure at baseball! See, Alex, you're no better than the Cubs or me!

(Alex holds the ball in his throwing hand and doesn't toss it back to Peter. There's a long pause.)

ALEX

I don't think you're a failure. And I'm not a failure, either. I just know what my strengths and weaknesses are, and I try to concentrate on the strengths the best I can.

PETER

(at the borderline of a breakdown)

Oh, so if I was able to conceive children with your mom, that would be one of my strengths, but since I can only shoot blanks, that's my weakness? Well, I can't control that, my darling little boy! And you can't let the things you can't control control you!

                          (There's another long pause.)

ALEX

I'll just be gone for eight weeks.

PETER

(composes himself)

Sounds good.

                     (pause)

And I'm sorry for that little outburst. I just ... it's just that I sometimes forget you already had a father before I came along.

                          ALEX

But I never even knew him.

                          PETER

I know. But you're his flesh and blood, not mine. You'll never be like me. And I can't change that.

                          ALEX

But you're my dad. I don't have your eyes, or your smile, or your short temper, but I do have everything you've taught me.

(Alex throws the ball back to Peter. They resume playing catch.)

                          PETER

Alex, there's nothing I can teach you that you don't already know. You're a kajillion times smarter than I'll ever be.

                          ALEX

                     (slight pause while he thinks)

But I wouldn't be this good at math if you hadn't asked me to calculate the stats from all those scouting reports during the off-season. 

                          PETER

I won a lot of bets in spring training because of those stats.

                          ALEX

You sure did.

(Peter walks over to Alex and puts his hand on the back of Alex’s head.)

                          PETER

Hey, here's a math problem for you, buddy -- if you add a little brother or sister to our family, how many family members will there be?

ALEX

                     (excitedly)

You're serious?

PETER

I've got to have somebody to take to Cubs games while you're gone. I can't just lay in bed with your mom for eight weeks!

(Blackout.)