A Few Thoughts on All These Couples Self-Isolating Together and How I, a Reality TV Executive, Can’t Get a Camera Crew Across State Lines to Film Them

Hello America,

It’s me: The producer of Are You the One? The guy who keeps inviting Jeff Ross to all those Comedy Central roasts because that’s the only way he’ll let me use his studio parking spot. A TV executive who refuses to leave his private island because his personal epidemiologist said that it’s the best way to avoid catching COVID. We need to talk. There’s something going on that I think you all need to know about.

All across this country, emotionally immature Americans have been self-isolating with their boyfriends and girlfriends for weeks now—it’s been weeks, right? I have no clue; I haven’t spoken with a non-Producers’ Guild member since 2017. Anyways, for weeks now (maybe), these volatile relationships have been confined to cramped one-bedroom apartments without so much as an additional half bathroom. Arguments have been brewing for more than a month, but these couples have nowhere to cool off.

America, this delicious storyline is playing out right now in New York, Michigan, Louisiana, you name it. My TikTok analytics department informs me that many of these sexy 20-somethings have just now realized just how terrible their current partner is. But—here’s the kicker—these couples physically cannot avoid each other until this thing is over. I mean, what a brilliant concept for a TV show, right? Think of something that mixes the philosophical depth of Camus’s The Plague with all the relationship drama of 90 Day Fiancé. That’s what I’m envisioning here.

But nobody, America, nobody can see this reality TV gold. Yes, that’s right, because, according to all relevant permits and current executive orders, I’m not allowed to film it.

 

Well, not me, really. I wouldn’t be going regardless. I plan to stay suspended in a stasis tank until you all perish so that I can one day repopulate the planet with Ariana Grande. But my studio’s camera crews, they can’t go. I apparently can’t make them cross state lines.

 

And it really is a shame, America. Think of all the drama we’ll miss as these couples come to terms with cohabitating 700 square feet of space with someone they now despise. Think of all arguments about drawer space, showering habits, chewing sounds, the like, that are going undocumented. Think of the hundreds of hours of tearful confessional booth footage that will never be captured, never even make it to the editing room. I’m telling you, this will be our national treasure left buried. Our ark of the covenant. Our holy grail.

And don’t give me that shit about “non-essential business,” like that backstabber Andrew Cuomo did. Is art not essential at a time like this? Do we, as a society, not need someone to document our current zeitgeist? Are sizable campaign contributions that easily forgotten, Governor Cuomo? I’m trying to create the masterpiece that defines 2020, and I’m being treated like some common VH1 showrunner for it.

I hope you’ll understand, America, what this could mean for us. You have nothing better to do than watch reality TV. And seeing as how I’m literally attached to a machine that filters my every breath through three tanks of hand sanitizer, I have nothing better to do than to make it. So call your local lawmakers. Demand that action be taken for the sake of this glorious vision. Join the call to #ReOpenRealityTV. I’ll be waiting, in a near-catatonic state, for your word.