Family Feud

I wouldn’t want to be a contestant on the television game show Family Feud. The stress of it would be too much. First off, I would have to wear an outfit that colour co-ordinated with the rest of my family’s. Dorky. I’d have to embarrass myself by clapping and shouting “Good answer!” even when I knew full well that the answer given by one of my relatives was stupid. Ugh. Plus I know if we made it to the Fast Money round, I’d be the one who gave the number one answer to all five questions, leaving one of my relatives only needing to get another eighteen points for us to win twenty thousand dollars, but they’d blow it. No thank you.

Being a contestant is not for me, but I’ll tell you who I would love to be: one of the one hundred people they survey for each of the questions. How does one get a gig like that? I’ve lived in America my whole life, and even when you factor in the amount of time I’ve been out of the country on vacation, that still ads up to forty-one years, six months, and fifteen days. Not once has anyone ever stopped me on the street and said, “Hi, I’m with the television show Family Feud. Would you be willing to answer a few survey questions for us?” Yeah I would! I haven’t received so much as a phone call, or a letter in the mail either.

I want to be one of those people only so I can mess up the numbers for the show’s Producers. For instance, suppose the host of the show were to say, “We asked one hundred people the following: how much weight would you like to lose?” Now, I’m guessing that the average person would answer with ten, twenty, or thirty pounds. That’s why I’d say, “Point six ounces” to the survey taker. That way if the idiot of the family – and there’s always at least one idiot – came up with the same bizarre answer, and the host started mocking his response, then melodramatically turned around and shouted “Survey Says…?!” the Producers would have no choice but to reveal that at least one other person said the same thing. The idiot would feel like less of an idiot, the smug members of the family would feel a little less smug, and the host – well, he wouldn’t care because he gets paid a ton whether or not people give him reasonable answers. Meanwhile, the rest of America would be at home scratching their heads and thinking, “Someone actually gave that as an answer?”

I would also say that Andy Murray winning Wimbledon was the most important thing to me on my wedding day, that being pecked to death by a robin was my greatest fear, and that playing a recording of accordion music is what gets me pumped before a workout.

Seriously, how does one get to be one of the people surveyed? I live at 111 Delhi Street in Des Moines, Iowa. My phone number is 515-555-0777. And I go to the Farmer’s Market every Saturday morning. Someone get in touch with me. Please.

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