I'm Gretchen Carlson. Every morning at exactly 6:45 am, I blink "Help Me" in Morse code five times in a row while on the air. Three minutes after I'm finished Steve Doocy does the same thing. Then we repeat it. We don't let Brian try, because it's difficult for him to remember complex patterns. But he's trapped here with us. If this message got out, if you can read this, please know that we are not willing participants in the Fox and Friends program. Armed guards are just off camera forcing us to go through the motions of hosting a morning TV news show. And there are others in the same predicament. The entire network is part of elaborate and sadistic game.
As I was planning to leave CBS more than a dozen years ago I received an email with an intriguing job offer. Journalism is a difficult profession, and there weren't many options. I arrived at a vacant-looking warehouse in Queens, NY, where I was restrained and placed into a basement prison with a dozen other professionals from television and print media. They were filthy, scared, desperate people, and over the next several days I watched most of them die in a series of gruesome "survival challenges" involving firearms, power tools, diabolical machinery, and explosive traps. Throughout it all, we were directed by a hidden voice with an unnerving Australian accent.
Steve, Brian and I are the only ones who remain. But our nightmare never ended. This program is a continuation of what happened to us down there in that death-maze. Every show is a subtle form of psychological torture. Sitting on this couch chatting inanely, reciting Republican talking points and pretending we just came up with them... interviewing Donald Trump, for chrissakes -- why isn't it obvious to you people that someone is just doing this to strip away our dignity? Please help me. Help all of us. Stop this.
Brian has gotten the worst of it. When I met him he was fresh from an editing job at the Paris Review and spoke five languages. But he sustained massive head trauma and this ordeal has just crushed his mind. They have to retrain him during every commercial break. It's heartbreaking. Others in the company have been here longer, and their torture has been more elaborate and cruel. They've transformed from prisoners into some of the most vicious enforcers here.
You see? This isn't a network at all. This is someone's hideous system for collecting journalists from all over the world and utterly annihilating them, body and soul. For what purpose? Power? Ratings? Money? I don't think so. I think the unseen Australian executive who controls my every move just likes doing these awful things.
And I've noticed that it's spreading. You must notice it too. If we recite idiotic arguments and interview an ugly collection of halfwits, the other networks have to do the same to compete. If we turn our entire primetime lineup into a series of personality-driven chat shows, you'll see the identical format pop up on MSNBC and CNN. They'll fire their staffs. And more journalists will show up in those warehouses, and the game... the game will go on forever. As that corporate overlord with a voice like the dying of animals continues to lower the quality of debate and discussion in America, he involves you too. You become duller, more pliable. You're reading me on some blog made by a guy who sock puppets celebrities for cheap, stupid laughs. Do you see how far you've sunk already? Do you see how he's crawled into your thoughts and gotten to you?
Every day, we pray for two things: For a quick death and for someone to stop the monster we've helped create. Please... please hear us.
NOTE: Please read more of my stuff, like how I'm a bizarre minor character in Tina Fey's book, or The Clarifications Of Pat Robertson - A Celebration. Or you can pay 99 cents and buy my bizarre love story about life in a fashion magazine, which is kinda sorta the true story of how I married my wife (Kindle/Nook).