What is the ‘Jeopardy’ quiz show scandal?
Flat-Earth Society
Robert Stevens
It’s a concrete belief of mine that we have our own little Quiz
Show scandal right here in Los Angeles.
It takes place in a tiny little studio in a town called Burbank.
Perhaps you’ve seen this show of deceit and lies  it’s called
"Jeopardy."
That’s right, after years of careful, well-thought out
investigation I’ve decided that the show you love to hate (Not
"Wheel of Fortune," silly, the other one) is really not the
legitimate source of family entertainment you once took it for.
My theory is that this show once thought to be formed from a
world of knowledge and pure smarts, is in actuality based on the
five minutes of weak personality offered by the contestants before
the second commercial break.
Prime example numero uno: Anyone who’s seen more than three
episodes in a row knows that the contestants just aren’t that
smart.
In fact, I have an inside, anonymous, top-secret source (read:
Merv Griffin) who tells me that the only way contestants are chosen
is by the anecdote they present after the first round.
But knowing Merv, how can you tell this is really true?
Well, listen to this. When I was a junior in high school, I in
fact applied to be a contestant on "Teen Jeopardy" Â oh, what
a sorry example of wasted time that was.
It all comes back so clearly now.
I ran down to the nearest Payless Drugstore with the biggest
smile you ever did see. I had such a spectacular glint in my eye
that everyone in the building already knew what I wanted without me
ever even saying.
The helper behind the counter rushed to get me what I needed, a
postcard to send to this program of Trivial Pursuit Champions.
I quickly filled out the postcard with my name, address, age,
phone number and high school and held it in my hand as I dreamed of
the magic ticket this postcard could soon become.
The world would be my proverbial oyster. Growing up I’d always
have story to tell at cocktail parties, "Yes Ms. Vandafeller, I was
on ‘Teen Jeopardy’!" And if I won, all the girls would like me.
Or so I thought. My mistake was small, but costly.
Proud of my heritage, I sent to the good people at the game-show
a postcard with my hometown on it  San Diego, America’s
finest city.
And then I waited for their reply  three long years I did.
It never came and now I can finally understand why.
It all comes down to these three words, "San Diego" and
"anecdote." Like oil and water, USC and UCLA, and Pete Wilson and
public education, they just don’t mix.
The jaded admissions officers at "Jeopardy" knew that it was
impossible for any person from the senior citizen’s capital of
California to have a good story to tell.
San Diego is boring and on a show like Jeopardy, they knew it.
When the stakes are high and the anecdotes kick-ass, no one wants
to hear, "Oh, and I really love the beach, Alex."
Alex just left me in the dust.
And this brings me to my second problem with "Jeopardy," Alex
Trebec .Who really trusts this guy anyway?
Trebec, the Rico Suave of game-show hosts may think he’s all
that and a Fotomat, but he’s not. Oh no, he’s not.
Oh sure, he’ll make pleasant conversation during those well-
thought-out anecdotes (So John, I hear you were the first person to
memorize all the U.S. capitals when you were in the third grade –
oh ho, that’s funny).
But does Trebec really mean it? I doubt it, in fact personal
sources (read: Pat Sajak) revealed to me that this handsome hunk of
Canadian bacon cares more about his looks than the capital of
Mongolia (Ulaanbaatar).
In fact, why do you think the contestants on "Jeopardy" are so
geeky  it’s because Alex picks ’em that way!
Sure, you’ll see an occasional ponytail on a guy or a girl with
a bit of fashion sense, but seriously, these people are generally,
ahem, incomplete.
Okay, let’s put it a bit more mildly  these contestants do
not deserve to live!
Alex, you intellectual mastermind! Stop inflating your ego at
these poor creatures expense! That just isn’t cool.
Can these people really afford to be on television? The answer
is no.
"Jeopardy" is no "Baywatch." In fact, nine out of 10 contestants
agree (even the women, they sure love that David Hasselhoff!) that
they’d rather spend five minutes on the babe-clad show than be a
five-day champion
And here’s the answer why, "It’s …"
Doh! I forgot to phrase it in the form of a question.
Stevens is an undeclared sophomore. He wishes he could write
angry letters to Viewpoint. Alas he cannot. Damn the electric
fence. Damn the electric fence. His column runs every other
Tuesday. That’s intentional.