Every time I flip channels and come across the American television programme Extreme Makeover, I am not sure whether to consider myself lucky or unlucky. Perfectly healthy men and women write in to the show, requesting extensive surgical intervention to help change their lives for the better. They cite that their relationships and overall desires are frustrated because of their poor self-image and self-esteem. They win a place on the show based on their outpouring and, I suppose, viewership demographics. They are then whisked away for several weeks and painstakingly and incisively reconstructed from top to bottom, far removed from their friends and family. Each person undergoes, it seems, 10, 20 or 30 procedures — and they emerge looking like people for whom life was destined to be good after all. Viewers get to see ”before” images, the removal of the bandages, the shock and delight of the patient and finally, the party at which they are elaborately reintroduced to their family, since they left home looking as roughshod as they had felt. The utterly supportive husband or wife is completely thrown by the epiphany in front of them, tears of joy abound and the afterlife begins in earnest.
One family that submitted a request was introduced as ”the Bushes”. They attested that their son George, a former alcoholic, philanderer and military service vagabond, was in need of an Extreme Makeover. The many upsets in his life had badly affected his self-esteem and world-view, making him overly cynical, and they admitted that he looks ”creepy”. His mother sobbed that he was her favourite boy and she had done everything to protect him from others and himself. His brother said he had always looked up to him and would do anything for him. His father said his only concern was that his son be president for as long as he could and if ”this makeover thing” would help, so be it. Laura, his wife, just smiled and waved at the camera, perhaps hoping she would never see him again. George himself declared that it was ”God’s will and the wish of the American people”. This bold move by the ”the Bushes” conclusively proved that The American Dream was in full swing. Messages of support poured in.
While George lay in recovery, the American people’s lives continued. In the afternoons, gay men walked their dogs in and around Dupont Circle. The ritual involves single owners grooming their dogs to cute perfection and, in not so quiet admiration of each other’s canines, chatting one another up. On warm afternoons like that, there’d be an unofficial dog show under way everywhere. Canines are very important in the United States. They have special rights and, according to a CNN report, have now been classified as ”dependants” in Canada. Dog-owners are legally dog ”guardians”, as responsible for their dog’s welfare as they would be for a child’s. One owner proudly shared that she sends her beloved dog on expensive holidays, exceeding even the cost of her own. Her dog goes on ”Canine Retreats” where each dog has its own plush room. Barbra Streisand sang a eulogy to her late dog on Oprah and major luxury clothing brands such Gucci sell designer dog outfits worth thousands of dollars apiece. Cat leashes are not much cheaper. Canines and owners alike agree that an Extreme Makeover could do for Bush what it had done for them: forget the world’s incessant melodramatic wining. The greeting card from the powerful American Canine Guardians Association (ACGA) was well received on behalf of the president at the White House.
When George did eventually re-emerge from surgery, media leaks revealed that while there, he had been shown samples of what he could look like (and subsequently feel like) if he wished. He didn’t like what he was shown and said he wanted to look like the person he admired most in the world: his father, ”but younger”. It was no surprise then that when he paraded his new look to the world, people squinted, turned their heads upside down, turned to look at each other quizzically and shrugged their shoulders, switching the channel to National Geographic, a cold beer and fries in hand. ”He ain’t done change nuthin’,” one guy exclaimed, disappointed. ”I can’t believe I ever believed any of it in the first place,” his girlfriend snapped. The last word went, of course, to the dog, letting out a bored ”woof!” ”Spoof!” I’d say.