I’m ashamed of myself. No; really.

I kept waiting for some kind of commotion. Wild stunts to break out. The grocery bags would be placed and filled in some Lucy-workin’-at-the-chocolate-factory-at- warp-speed gymnastic exercise.

I thought the contestants would be insane. Mannerless monomaniac weirdos who had dedicated their lives to acting the fool to cadge attention at any cost. Face painters. Balloon boys.

At the end, I figured there’d be some battle royale with everyone going like Kalis on crack, smashing strange items into paper sacks and hurling every third one at each other. Then a congregation of nitpicking semi-celebrities, culled from a kind of gutter filled with the vomit of barely-know-their-name fame, would choose a winner based on which one was least likely to take their jobs.

I apologize unreservedly. I forgot there are places still left in the world where honest effort and manners is neither sneered at when displayed nor held back as a pointless posture of rebellion.

We should consider going back to humiliating entertainers for our amusement and exalting productive citizens for our edification. The approach built our world, and everything in it, once.