The Levels of Reality TV Entertainment

One of my favorite topics, Reality TV, developed a new wrinkle. New York Magazine identifies the downfall of reality TV: it's not real. I discovered this article a few months ago and kind of forgot about it. As the Writer's Strike burns on, something must be said of our future propects for prime time entertainment as they chew up and spit out their contestants.

Jay McCarroll's split-second design fame no where near matches the experience one gets from clawing their way through the fashion world from intern to success. The designer's name was instantly known around the world but he couldn't get a job if his life depended on it.

Even while Project Runway champions skill (not that Survivor doesn't champion grunt work as a skill and Big Brother, surviving boredom as a skill), it still manages to drain their subjects of all their integrity in the industry, leaving even their most talented, like Austin Scarlett, to turn down bit parts on crappy sitcoms and once again return to the clawing. Scarlett managed to tear himself into a pretty good job, no thanks to his patrons in the reality TV world.

Perhaps such a fate beats that left to those veterans of the early reality show formula. Eric Nies, who made young girls swoon for a short time on the original Real World, enjoyed a quick career with some exercise videos. Now he's set to air in some ill-fated TV series but he hasn't had acting work since 1995 when he played a "Hip MC" in the Brady Bunch Movie. He hasn't even been invited back to the Real World/Road Rules Challenge for a number of years. Certainly, this was not what he'd intended when he signed up to be one of the first reality stars.

Newer victims of the same formula, like Howie Gordon of Big Brother, may be destined for something darker. On his Web site, Howie has posted video of himself doing a commercial for a shoe store in Syracuse. It might remind one of something that cocky guy from high school sent to everyone to prove that his "career" is really taking off. Unfortunately , he fails to mention that he's only in the commercial because he's working at the shoe store.

Of course not every reality show is out to exploit everyday people just looking for a chance at fame. Some of them exploit those who are already kind of famous for a few more moments. The Simple Life gave us some pathetic role models while Hogan Knows Best bores us with the daily activities of a retired wrestler. And we keep watching.

I will note that our attention has granted success to those savvy enough to use it. Rocco DiSpirito of Top Chef fame used his Bravo connections to sell a cook book. And Nick Verreos manipulated his fifteen minutes into a stronger career than he had before. There has to be a couple happy endings, right?

Anyhow, what viewers should really be considering is how much time they are willing to invest in shows so apt at exploiting people just like them. Or maybe a bit more talented. I guess it is rather similar to those ancient lion's dens where Christians were ripped to shreds. This time the lion is TV.

A Wish List

The glossy pages slipped out of its plastic covering, making a crisp, clean sound. Joey's fingers anticipated the feel of the comic book's binding in the tips of his fingers. But he was hardly satisfied by simply touching it. The teenager had to have it. If it wasn't for the nosey cashier rearing his pimply face over the counter, Joey thought, he'd have taken it.

Of course, Joey would do no such thing. His acute conscience would not allow it. The other boys at school would have said that he just didn't have the "balls" but Joey knew better. As he read the adventures of JumboMan, he could feel his own superpowers growing. He was destined to be a good guy. His failure to steal revealed how strong he'd become. One day, his alterego would be complete.

Joey slipped the plastic sleeve back over his prize and replaced it on the shelf as the pimply watched from the counter. As he exited, his feet hovered just over the ground. Of course, to the untrained eye, he only appeared to be walking.

What Ages Me Most

Another birthday approaches. This one wears a ski mask and wields a tire iron over its head. I can see it lurching toward me even though I'm blinded by the headlights shooting into my eyes from behind the dark figure. I've fallen to my knees, spitting out pathetic petitions like blood dripping from the corners of my mouth. But it won't stop coming. It's never been quite so mean to me before. But the mercy has ceased. Death will arrive behind it one day. I pray it will have a long journey before that time.

Wikipedia, v.

Ever since I discovered the fantastic location online that can answer so many of my questions, I've made it my goal to verbize it. Don't know who won the best actress oscar in 1931? Wikipedia it. It's so easy.

At the moment, Google is getting so much free press just for the fact that characters on TV and people on the street so naturally say that they "Googled" someone whether it be an upcoming date or a presidential candidate. The same fate could be awaiting Wikipedia if only the brains behind that site would take advantage.

Granted, it seems like it might be a bit of a mouthful, especially when you get into changing tenses. In casual conversation, it might be slightly more difficult to say, "I know that because I wikipedia-ed it". But once we've got it thoroughly installed into the vernacular, we could probably shave it down a bit and still be understood.

For instance, we could cut out some of those excessive vowels, i.e. "wikipedied". And one day, "wikied" might be the "street slang" version that all the kids are using.

Wikipedia could have one bright future if only they'd market better. Maybe they feel it's below them b/c they've got that ".org" thing going on. They should really get over themselves though.

From day to day, I always have a few people rattling around inside my head. Now when I say “people”, I mean memories of people or images of them in one way or another. Generally, these images represent individuals with whom I wish to have a word. But it should be relatively apparent that since I leave them in my head rather than directly contacting them I’d rather just imagine having a word with them. I feel that would be more satisfying then actually having to talk to them.

The majority of these images symbolize those who have “wronged” me. Whether they be ex-boyfriends or the new girlfriends of ex-boyfriends or people who were simply friends at one point in time. I place quotes around the word “wronged” because I’m making an attempt to keep things in perspective. For the most part, these people hurt me but were not necessarily out to do that. Mostly, they were out to please themselves and, in the process, they “wronged” me.

Sometimes I walk from work to Grand Central to let these images dance around. Pretend as though I got the opportunity to face them and show them that I don’t give a damn. Little do they know they’re still captured in my brain.

I guess they might know if they ever found my blog. Lucky for me, I'm small time.