I don’t watch a lot of television. I watch The Office. I watch the Daily Show. Sometimes the news at 10. Lots of Noggin and Nick Jr. and Discovery Kids and Sprout. Not a lot of adult-oriented TV. Unless it’s on DVD. I buy the good shows and watch them over and over again. Like Arrested Development. I know most episodes of AD inside and out.

I hate reality TV. I hate contest shows. I hate the new generation of prime time game shows. In truth, I’m really not a fan of the contemporary entertainment business. So, I am pretty clueless about what’s on the tube on any given day. And that’s why I was absolutely stunned to discover, last night, that America is now watching Bingo on Fridays.

That’s right. Bingo. They made a game show out of Bingo. It had a bizarre name like National Bingo Night, I don’t really know why. There was a distinctly unbuff, aussie sounding host with a shaved head who looked particularly uncomfortable whenever the contestants engaged in a little pressing of the flesh – Bob Barker and Richard Dawson be damned, these women looked like they were going to throw him down on the ground and engage in some nasty little Bingo ritual of love.

I have not researched this at all. I do not want to know. It terrifies me that this was really on TV. This is the next big thing. Bingo. Sexy, edgy, ready for prime time, even in the urban market Bingo. This ain’t your Grannie’s Bingo no more kiddies. This is National Bingo Night.

If you had told me this was a new Christopher Guest movie I would have believed you in a second. Even if I didn’t see Fred Willard. It was that over the top. It was that cartoonish. I mean, these contestants were right out of central casting. I kept catching sideways glances from the host. You could almost read his ‘how did I end up here?’ thoughts. And then there was the Commissioner (I think that’s what they called him – by this time I was pounding cheap Cabernet in astonishment). He stood in the audience to check Bingo cards, because the crowd plays against the contestant. I guess that makes sense. But the weird part was his referee uniform (he looked like he just came from a second grade soccer game) and his out of control Mexican accent. His timing was so bad, and he’d be like “I have to tell you if someone in the audience has a bingo…<excrutiating overly long pause to really heighten the pseudo-drama>… right after these words from our sponsors.’ Stunning.

Now Carol knew about this. She had actually seen a bit of it when she was in Massachusetts a couple weekends ago. So she wasn’t nearly as shocked as me. She was, I think, less surprised about the Bingo show than that we were actually watching it. Personally, I couldn’t get past its existence. I was riveted. This was like riding in a subway car with Flock of Seagulls. I mean, you just can’t take your eyes off that mess.

I sit here on Saturday morning in stunned silence. My kids are watching commercial-free TV for kids. My wife is on her way to work at the shop. I am getting mentally prepared for a run to the mall/grocery store with the wee ones. But I just can’t get it out of my head. Bingo. Last night I watched Bingo. This is the height of American creativity. Bingo. There was a farmer, had a dog, and what was his name-o? That’s right. Bingo.

We need some good ideas. Fresh ideas. True creativity. Wait! I know. Battleship! I can see it now: the audience in life jackets, a retired Navy Admiral as the host – or maybe somebody from the British fleet so he has that appealing, cultured accent, a pool full of sharks and deep sea predators to add drama and danger. Can’t you just see the opening credits, an A-Team style theme song but with more horns and cannons and the backlit host saying, “Two fleets of five vessels, provisions are low, amunition is nearly exhausted. Today, ships will sink. Today, men will die. The seas will boil with their blood. Only one captain will be victorious today. Will it be you? Or will you be the one who says…” [houselights up, the enraptured crowd screams in unison] “You sank my battleship!”

Bingo.