Since I started listening to my iPod shuffle around campus, my life feels a lot like a movie. When our character is entering Green Library, it’s the Wagner tune, “Ride of the Valkyries” whose loftiness contrasts with the utter insignificance of the moment. The contrast is so off-key that it produces a smile.

Before I got an iPod, I only felt like I was in a movie sometimes. It would happen when I was in a car and everyone was silent, but the car stereo kept playing. The characters, weary of a day’s journey, stare blankly around in the car as we hear a soft tune that makes us feel bad for no reason.

It’s “In Limbo” by Radiohead as our character thinks what to write next.

To be honest with you, these pseudo-scenes always felt much more real to me. In your typical cheesy, phony Hollywood flick, you can always count on good guys to win, where winning ranges from saving the world to having sex with some hot woman. I keep thinking to myself, “Why can’t movies be more like life? Why does everything in movies and television shows need to be so phony?”

At a dinner table, feeling disquieted by the silence, I ask, “Why does everything in “The OC” need to be so phony? I mean, other shows are phony, too, but they at least have some grain of truth.”

Feeling suddenly enlivened, I ask a friend at that dinner, “Did you know that there is no minority character in ‘The OC?’”

“Well, not many minorities live in the OC,” my interlocutor tells me.

“I checked the demographics,” I say. “It’s only 64.81 percent white.” And all my listeners fall into hysterical laughter.

Having charged the most popular show on campus of phoniness, I feel a certain burden of proof on my shoulders. Just explaining that there are no minorities doesn’t make it totally fake. For a conclusive argument, I need to use my most valuable contribution to life, Baran’s Razor.

In science (and other fields), there is a philosophical idea that goes by the name of “Occam’s Razor,” attributed to 14th century English logician William of Ockham. Formally, Occam’s Razor states that entities required to explain an event should not be multiplied beyond necessity. This means that given two competing explanations of a situation, choose the simpler one. (The notion of simplicity is a controversial one, but I don’t have space to discuss this controversy.)

For example,suppose paper sheets started flying around in a room. You are given two competing explanations: (a) a mysterious soul threw them around or (b) the wind blew in through the window. Choice b is in many ways the simpler explanation and therefore is to be preferred according to Occam’s Razor. Occam’s Razor “shaves off” all explanations except the simplest one.

Having paid my homage to a fellow philosopher, I’d like to present Baran’s Razor:

Baran’s Razor: In any given situation involving people and their interactions with one another, choose the most boring explanation that accounts for the situation.

So, let’s see Baran’s Razor in action. Remember the cute girl (or guy) who just hazily glanced at your direction? Well, pal, she wasn’t looking at you. She was waiting for her friend and looked to see if her friend came. And you know what, she probably has a boyfriend.

This particular example might give the impression that Baran’s Razor always favors pessimism. This is wrong. What Baran’s Razor favors is boredom. Let me illustrate with an example. Remember that girl who you thought hated your guts? Guess what, she doesn’t even remember you. She doesn’t have enough knowledge about you to form any opinion.

Armed with the lethal weaponry of Baran’s Razor, let us return to “The OC.” First, all of the characters (except the protagonist) in the show are good looking. This is just too exciting to be true. There is an ongoing drama of internal conflicts, of confusions, of feuds and break ups. In one episode, one character may ascend to the height of morality and in the next descend to the pit of egoism. Such emotional drama and character trait fluctuations don’t happen in reality. These are too exciting, and life is too boring. Consequently, Baran’s Razor entirely shaves off “The OC.”

I can hear my cerebral readers saying, “What about the times when we have real drama? What about the time I got so drunk that I almost killed myself? What about the time I made out with this girl because she was too drunk to notice anything?” My view is that these incidents are to be regarded as statistical anomalies that have no bearing on the general trend that Baran’s Razor captures so vividly. If 999 of 1,000 coins are copper and one is gold, I’d side with the man who says “all are copper” instead of the man who says “all (or even some) are gold.”

One option is to suspend our boredom by indulging ourselves in TV drama like “The OC.” Alternatively, we can create drama in our lives and get into silly struggles with our friends and loved ones. This can have negative consequences. Albert Camus writes in “The Rebel” of a woman who committed suicide. She thought the rocks down a cliff were like those in Emily Bronte’s “Wuthering Heights” and decided to throw herself off the cliff. Neither the onscreen nor real-life version of drama is a viable option for me. I tend to value truth and common sense rather highly.

My proposed solution is that we unite in solidarity against the monotony that so intrusively underpins our reality. Once we have given up on the notion that our lives won’t be poetic, our interactions become more interesting and real. As Jon Winokur wrote, “So, ennui sufferers unite! You have nothing to lose but the blahs.”

It’s “End of the Movie” by Cake as our character finishes his column.

Cihan feels that his piece doesn’t hit the nail on the head but the Facebook group “F*#k the OC” does. E-mail him at cihanb@stanford.edu.