For a variety television show, Eat Your Lunch had a lot to say. Guests were chosen randomly from crowds gathered outside the shoot, and challenged to perform tasks they could not have known about in advance. A small child might be asked to perform quantum calculations. An old man might have to do as many jumping jacks as he could. A woman in a wheelchair might be sent to navigate a narrow staircase. Failure was always and often an option, and was rewarded with showers of confetti and celebratory music. No one had to be the best, or even any good at all. That was the whole point of the show. Ordinary people unable to do things. It drew a huge following, both live and streaming. Thousands showed up at an hour’s notice at previously undisclosed locations for selection. The show might be taped practically anywhere at any time. It was never regularly scheduled. The hosts, who were also picked from god knows where, were also volunteers who had no idea what they were supposed to do from moment to moment. The whole thing not only seemed amateurish, it really was. This was the anti-show demanded by a populace long sick to death of scripted perfections created by people who knew what they were doing and were damn good at it. Down with excellence! Down with competence! The hell with all of that. This was the hour of the jerk who blows smoke in your face just because. This was precisely the spirit of the age.