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I had originally planned to write this column on the hypocrisy of the television gods deeming the prevailing definition of reality television (Temptation Island and its ilk) worthy of its own Emmy Award category.

Then, September 11th happened. Right before our very eyes! And not only was the definition of “reality television” instantly revised, so too was our definition of “reality” itself. Ditto “unreal” and “surreal”; “unthinkable” and “unimaginable.” And in the wake of a nation’s people and businesses reprioritizing, we were privy to two weeks where the network and cable Fall TV Schedule went from sudden meaningless excess to urgently prescribed therapy.

Does anyone—besides advertisers—need Survivor 3? A month ago, no. But when it premieres on October 15, many people would viably argue, yes. People have counseled that the American public should not just allow the distractions of TV to randomly exist like accessible hot dog carts in midtown, but to proactively seek out the “dream juice” that most of our current generations have been comfortably weaned on.

I personally was always skeptical of journalism’s “objectivity”; weren’t there more important events occurring in the world besides tracking Jamie-Lynn Zeigler’s whereabouts and preparing lamb three different ways? But for ten days, there was no other news, and television distributed nothing else but information.

Humorists-turned-philosophers averred that irony was dead. (Read that last sentence again.) The entertainment business experienced humility; extroverts introspected. Millions of humans held vigils and hands and sang much like the Who’s of Whoville after the Grinch had stolen their gifts.

Our President finally became our leader. Our Mayor became our idol. And our heroes didn’t wear masks or capes, but helmets and soot. And the tool that logged this history and unified the country—the globe—in their shock, grief, anger, charity, resolve, strength, and, finally, flag-waving pride: television.

Television is not the opiate of the masses; programming is. TV is just the pharmacy where viewers get the drugs for whatever ails them. The pharmacy was closed for 10 days in honor of the first unofficial American Remembrance Day.

In that same metaphor, people took this time to “get their house in order.” But when shop opened again, ah, how much better the medicine! How grand, baseball! How missed Frank and Marie Barone! How hot the chick in the Old Navy commercials

But resiliency manifests itself in an entity’s ability to return to form. Not, though, to “the way things were,” since I really believe that we’ve all been indelibly affected. To prosper anew, we decide to let the good memories of old filter back into our conscience.

We are reminded of the many things that make our life great, the many things we may have taken for granted. The very things that make a group of zealots so enraged with envy when they watch them crouched around their one television that they would attempt to destroy them.

And this weekend, we honor some of those things in an honored tradition colloquially referred to as The Emmy Awards. And this year’s broadcast will feature its new category: Best Reality TV Series. Alas, Irony wakes from its coma and makes a remarkable and full recovery!

Actually, the official title is Outstanding Non-Fiction Program (Special Class). Creative name for a category in which Survivor 2 can win and Love Cruise could one year be nominated (along with eventual possibilities Senator Sorority Raid, E-Mail Chain Letter, and Who Wants to Breed Lepers).

Almost four weeks after the tragedy of September 11, and there is still some random pictures or voiceovers that exude from my 27″ Toshiba that put me into an immediate hiccuping but happy sob. Many times the image or sound have nothing to do with the tragedy (always a tragedy, never an incident!). But I defend that it has everything to do with living in the greatest country on the planet.

Reality television has had many incarnations, from the advent of live television to Candid Camera to Cops to The Real World to Taxicab Confessions to The Amazing Race. On September 11th, reality became the most unreal thing ever aired. The towers of the World Trade Center falling like Jenga blocks, unreal. The tears of the thousands of baseball fans falling like kettle steam during the singing of the national anthem, very real.

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On October 7th, the U.S. officially went to war, the Emmys were cancelled, and news officials guaranteed terrorist retaliation. Thank God for football!

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October 23rd. Survivor 3 is a hit, although bested in its timeslot by Friends, the comfort food of TV programming. NYPD and Third Watch are incorporating the WTC events into their story lines. The Emmys have been postponed indefinitely and you could watch some incarnation of Law & Order on almost any night. We know senators and cable news anchors by face and name. Our troops are on the ground in Afghanistan. Buddhism—in the form of Richard Gere logorrhea—gets booed at the star-studded Benefit for New York concert and the Yankees win the ALCS for the forth year in a row.

And how am I reacting to all this? You know, I’m just keeping it real….!

by Kerry Alaric Cheeseboro - contributing writer