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If it flies, it’s going to be like the man, and the legend of the man, Johnny Cash—part fact and part fiction.  Magic realism, introduced first in Germany via the visual arts, juxtaposes elements of both reality and magic, or fiction, if you will.  And that’s the approach I’m taking to this experiment. 

It’s a story about the Baker family.  First, the fiction part: A family of four, including a mother, a father, a son, and a daughter, are asked to move from New York City to Bakersfield to participate in a reality show experiment. 

For a period of one year, they will be sequestered in their newly adopted Bakersfield home, with all media outlets blocked, except for the blog communities known as Bakersfield.com and Bakotopia.com

All of their news, all of their information, and all of their entertainment, notwithstanding non-media sources of entertainment, will come from Bakersfield.com and Bakotopia.com

Without further ado, let the part factual/part fictional account of this fictional reality show:

It was dinnertime, and the Bakers were eagerly seated around the darkly stained (not with wood stain, but with all sorts of gross spillages), table-cloth-covered, old oak table.

Mrs. Julie Baker served up a hearty helping of her beloved roast beef dish, featuring baby carrots, cooked to perfection, with a soft-as-silk serving of mashed potatoes and gourmet gravy.  She was a great cook, and took pride in every meal that she so solicitously prepared. 

Yeah!  In their dreams.  Truth be told, Mrs. Baker couldn't cook worth a damn.  Though it was dinner, and not breakfastime, all she had prepared were left-over scrambled eggs, so, after they bowed their heads and Mr. Baker offered a family prayer of tepid thanks, that's what they ate.  He raised his head, and the rest followed his lead. 

“So, Barry Bonds finally did it.  He, single-handedly crushed Hank Aaron’s record,” proclaimed Ed Baker, the heavy-set husband, and proud father of two, proclaimed.   

“Duh! Dad? Let’s not forget, those were the steroids talking!”  His son, Billy, cringed with his own retort.  He was all-too-keenly aware of his father’s quick temper and need to go unchallenged. 

Mr. Baker clenched his fists, then, reluctantly relaxed them, clearing his throat in a transparent effort to subdue his growing irritability. 

“Didn’t you read Steve Swensen’s blog? Anybody can take steroids, it doesn’t mean you’re going to be a champion of anything.  You’ve got to have something else going for you to make it that far.

“Let’s just drop it,” Billy replied as he dropped his fork on the kitchen floor.  As he began to search for the fallen fork, he noticed a huge cockroach darting across the kitchen.  “Where’s that darned cat when you need her most?”

11-year-old Janet saw the bug, as she let out a loud, uncontrollable, but conspicuously fake scream. By that time, all eight eyes had taken note of the roach, even as it darted from spot to spot with the utmost celerity. 

“I’ll get the spray.”  Mrs. Baker, looking completely composed, walked towards the kitchen cabinet below the sink where she kept the pesticide.  She then paused before opening the door and grabbing the bottle.  “You all need to do a little better at helping your mother clean up around here, so we won’t have this problem.”

“Leave it for the cat.  That’s what ehagedorn would do," Janet suggested, as she watched Billy finally pick up his fallen fork,”  She then let out a disturbingly loud belch, followed by a half-hearted “Excuse me.”

“Damitjanet! Where are your manners?” Mr. Baker’s patience with his own children was clearly diminishing at this point.

“Now, daddy, please don’t go lecturing me.  I’ve already read her blog post.  I know all about the ‘gentleman’ she referred to.  Notice, that, though she witnessed him pigging out like a troglodyte, she still referred to him as a gentleman.”

“Well, Janet if you’re expecting me to call you a young lady after that disgusting eruction of yours, you’re sadly mistaken,” he replied in a notably harsh tone.

“What are you going to do, pull an Alec Baldwin?”  Being bolder than brother, and eager to get under her father’s thin skin, but also afraid of her father's wrath, she sported a smug smile and then giggled nervously. 

At that point, big Ed stood up, pulled back his minatory frame from the table, his face flushed with a burgeoning anger.  He stormed off to the computer where he logged in at Bakersfield.com and began reading the latest religious rant from paxchristi3. 

Reading the rant may not solve the separation of church and state issue for him once and for all, but he figured it may help separate himself from the pesky roaches, and shelter himself from the deleterious effects of his incorrigible children. 

TO BE CONTINUED THE NEXT TIME INSPIRATION RANDOMLY HITS.