talk about dirty jobs
I try not to feel bad for other people, because I like to reserve all my pity for myself, but you know what? I feel really bad for whatever verbatim transcriptionist has to sit there and caption “Big Brother After Dark” for three hours every night. I hope the money is good, because these people would make me want to start ripping my appendages off. At least I can change the channel and watch ESPN or something else slightly less stupid; this poor stenographer has to hang on every moronic word so that the hearing-impaired may share in the rapid decline of Western Civilization.
Okay, even with the sound muted, I can’t watch these people, much less appreciate the inane drivel. It’s like my worst high-school party nightmare (and I went to a fairly hip high school).