A master in the art of living draws no sharp distinction between his work and play, his mind and his body, his education ans his recreation. He hardly knows which is which, he simply pursues his vision of excellence through whatever he is doing and leaves others to determine whether he is working or playing. To himself, he always seems to be doing both.
The night, your night. Every night. Starts with a simple question.
Is it to be an evening on the sofa staring at strangers, a televised
spew of reality stars, fame hunters and Primadonnas, everyone plotting,
catch phrasing, confessing and unraveling, or do you want it to be more.
A time when judges and contestants are replaced by teen moms, trouble
makers and teen mates. No islands to be voted off. No board rooms to be
fired from. Where sunrise is the only elimination ceremony. Because in
the end the night deserves to be played not watched. And channel surfing
is not a sport.