(This is a guest post from francoBeans, one of my favorite bloggers.)
Hey. How you doin? Nice to meet you.
I’m a little nervous. Can you tell? This is my first time, so be gentle with me.
Actually, who am I kidding? Feel free to ravage me like the band aids did Patrick Fugit in Almost Famous.
Now, why am I here? I’m here to bring some very pressing information to your attention. No, I’m not talking about pig flu. There’s a much more significant threat to the public welfare. As reported by Variety, even reality [TV] producers say they’re out of ideas.
I’ll wait for your hearts to be still.
Even though at first glance I may seem like the reality-TV-hater prototype, I’m actually pretty far from it. If you ever saw Finding Forrester, there’s a scene where Forrester answers a challenge to his reading of The National Enquirer by claiming it was “dessert.” And what’s one of the best parts of being an adult? Dessert, whenever you want. And so, sometimes, I get a hankering that nothing other than TV that keeps it real can cure.
So to hear that reality TV is out of ideas? Insert *heartbreak*. They’re even bringing “Who Wants to be a Millionaire?” out of syndication. I just won’t have it, kids. I just won’t sit on my couch for it. Regis Philbin is a broadcast disaster. I don’t like his face or the fact that he breathes, for that matter.
With a toad-like vocal timbre, Tom Brokaw often interrupts purposeful, interesting broadcasts to reminisce about the Greatest Generation — a generation of men and women who survived two of the biggest challenges this nation has ever faced. Well, this is our moment. This is our time.
And this is my offering: The Real World – DC.
Now now, we’re not going to be funded by MTV. We’re also not going to do it anything like Bunim-Murray Productions does it. We’re going to do this like The Cosby Show did that episode where they tried to show Theo what the real world would be like.
Remember it? It was called “Theo’s Holiday.” They turned the house into the reality a grown-up would face, complete with Rudy as Mrs. Griswold, a banker. Because what “real world” experience allows you to become a celebrity just because you lived in an awesome house you didn’t pay rent for and you got into a bar fight, and then constantly invites you to do stupid human tricks every summer in exotic locations? None, that’s what.
In case you’re wondering, this will be a no-budget production scrapped together with whatever equipment and personnel we can find amongst ourselves and our friends and scattered across the streets of DC.
Since I’m not a huge fan of being in front of the camera, I will not be one of the seven strangers. This is where you come in. Do you want to be one of these strangers? Do you have a camera with flash (the iPhone does not). A camcorder, maybe? How about an empty house (the safety of the neighborhood is not determinative — fear of senseless crime and screaming, confrontational locals is real, and that’s how I keep it). Oh, and we need someone to be in charge of snacks, like crackers and stuff for late nights in the edit room (read: my kitchen).
This is my heart, bleeding before you. This is me down on my knees. Will you join me? Will you help me keep reality TV as real it deserves to be? Or will you stand idly by as TV that keeps it real, goes off?
Read Full Post »