Reality.

I'm pretty sure I'm gonna spend the next 12 hours obessively watching An American Family.  No wonder they've kept this buried for decades; it totally belies today's reality producers' insistence that nobody will watch a real family unless they're hot, wasted and getting in catfights, pulling each other's wigs off.  But think about it: would you rather watch footage of a handful of spoiled, uber-wealthy housewives doing ridiculous things in a world you'll never, ever be a  part of, or your next-door neighbors?

Also, it was filmed just before I was born, so gives a great look into the world just as I entered it, offering me that most tantalizing of nostalgia: time and place just before I was aware of my own surroundings; much of what I see I remember from my youth (or, more importantly, think I do.)

I wonder if the Loud family ever looks back on the footage, amazed they have hours and hours of memories to look at.  As much as I blather away about whatthefuckever on Xmastime, I'm very aware that one day, a long time from now, I'll be glad that there's a place I can go to remember what I was once like.  If nothing else, I'll be glad there's pictures of me hanging out with the Short Bus/Big Bear/Husky/Paddy Mac/Cherry Bomb et al, since by then I'll just be some dipshit old mf they avoid so they don't hafta hear about my goddam blocked extra point at Lancaster.