So it’s another slow Saturday; I play tug of war with the dog, eat some chinese food, and flip on the television after drinking a few beer.
“I bet you’d rather give a back massage to a grizzly bear with a handful of razorblades than mess with me” exclaims Earl (he looks like an Earl, although I didn’t read his oval shaped name-tag), as he boasts about how he enjoy his job repossessing cars.
It seems I’ve landed in the middle of yet another reality show.
This one about car repo-men, subpoena-servers, and security guards at wrestling events. I’m not sure if there was more actual dialogue or more beeps to cover up the foul language: “you @%@ ain’t gonna take my @#%@’n car, no you @%@% ain’t!!” Apparently Lurlene (she looks like a Lurlene, I didn’t read her 1982 Camaro’s vanity license plate, so I can’t be sure) didn’t take kindly to Earl’s brother towing away her car (she kicked his tow-truck). I believe throughout the entire episode, the poor camerman was told at least 8 times to “get that @%@n camera out of my @%#$^#n face.” Hey, he’s just doing his job.
So I got to thinking near the end of this crap how many reality shows there must be at this point, since “Survivor” got the ball rolling in the late 90’s.
We went from a show about self centered assholes playing headgames with each other to a show about eating bugs and making people do stuff that one wouldn’t do unless under the influence of PCP. Shortly after that we had groups of married couples who hated each other and we followed their race all over the planet, including some third-world countries (“hey, help a brother out! how about selling that video camera and feeding my @%@n village! “Sorry, I have a flight to Paris to catch, and so do the 8 couples behind me; you’ll probably see them in 10, 20 and 50 minutes from now.”)
I think in the past 2 years the reality craze (at least among producers) really took off. Following the bounty hunter and his quest to find bad guys on a small island while purchasing larger and larger vehicles to contain his wife’s breasts, we now have shows following an exterminator in the deep south, people who can’t drive, people who can’t lose weight, people who write parking tickets (!), people who purchase crap out of storage units (!!), rednecks who build motorcycles, teenage sluts on MTV, a family with 8 kids who is trying to climb out of debt, families who need a fat, childless, unmarried British nanny to teach them how to parent, a myriad of talent shows, aspiring chefs being yelled at by a pompous British-Hitler with an apron, a guy who chased dangerous animals (who gave his life for the cause, no less), dozens of “Cops” shows and their imitators, kids alone in a ghost town, people with 86 cats in a house full of garbage that they won’t throw away, one about @%@d up families trying to save their even more @#%@d up relatives by getting them a flight to Arizona, one about getting women married to a rich guy, and one about wannabe models who’s combined IQ doesn’t match the temperature in Sarah Palin’s backyard.
There’s even a sitcom about a reality show. “The Office”; has to be the best of the bunch.
I’m sure I’ve left out a few. I’m actually ashamed I know that these shows exist (Thanks to John for giving me even more).
Even when our own realities don’t suck we enjoy watching other peoples’ realities, as long they turn into a trainwreck.
I never did care much for Nascar, but alas, millions do.