Thursday,
July 20, 2000
It Ain't Real
Less Someone Gets Hurt
(Cause
that's what keeps us watching, yo!)
When the hell is
our dummin' country gonna get enough of this so called Real TV?
Absolutely not a single thing is real about anyone or anything
in these shows. When was the last time 'unscripted' equated 'real'?
It used to be called Improv back in the day. Because believe
me, the only thing taken away to make these shows real is the
script. Ya still got your directors and casting and edited over
production, actors cameras and lights and sound booms, sets...
everything but the damn script. And if fuckin' shows.
First off, the
mother of all these bastard shorties, the Real World. Since when
do a buncha outta work nuckers livin' in a huge loft constitute
reality? An' I ain't never seen southern whiteys roomin' with
Big Apple Brothas (not to mention a fag and a doper thrown in
the mix) not end up wit no chalk outlines on the front stoop,
yo. What kinda fucked up landlord is gonna set his fool ass up
for a corpse in his crib? At least the first Real World housed
mostly New Yorkers although they did fly in that one ignant southern
bitch to get the conflict goin'. But that weren't nuttin' compared
to the next few where they bused everyone's asses in from other
cities or flew 'em in from overseas, yo. Cause in the Real World,
you ain't housin' wit no redneck hick if you a downtown nigga.
He ain't even gettin' an interview. An' the only time I seen
a place housin' that many peeps, they was either all Mexican
or all Chinese or seven black kids and theys' mom.
If this were the
Real World, forget the Hollywood casting call. Where I come from,
gettin' a room ain't about looks, charm 'n the possibility of
conflict. I's gots to show proof I's got a job allows me ta 'ford
the place, decent credit and a slew 'a homies willing to say
I'm the blackest angel theys ever met. An' I ain't never walked
into an interview with a potential roommate who was a.) white
or b.) well, white.
Real TV. Bull.
The only way a black man can walk down the street wit'out being
hassled by a panda is if he's got a fuckin' camera crew followin'
'im. I mean, you can bet that brotha in Philly weren't no Survivor
(although you can bet he's winnin' the million dollars).
Speakin' of. Survivor.
Now, I watched these sum bitches struggle to catch fish for two
God damn weeks and yet theys still alive and fulla energy. If
this were Real TV, the only things survivin' by now on that island
am the fish. Wit'out there seemingly endless supply of rice,
they'd be punchin' each other in the faces in da hopes a' gettin'
voted off for a fat philly cheese-steak and a forty.
Now, I ain't sayin'
they ain't somethin' interestin' bout these shows, specially
Survivor. But it's the shit that ain't real that makes it so
interesting. It's all about forced interaction and prearranged
conflict. Pickin' and choosin' personality types that'll charm
or disgust the audience while simultaneously ripping each others
throats out. But Real World weren't gettin' enough ratings just
by casting contradictory cake holes or terminally ill homos,
so they started forcin' the roomies to work together on shit.
Business, radio, community center... anything to avoid the split
house London debacle of a bored night group and pretentious day
group. Survivor puts a million dead prez's up for grabs and places
a bunch of stooges in a every dog for itself competition. And
finally, the worst yet. Big Brother. Who gives a fuck about a
bunch of attention hungry lazy ass wanna bes who get free room
and board and will be rewarded for not pissing off the wrong
people. So they can't so much as wipe theys ass without a buncha
freaks starin' at 'em via modem, yo. Theys just a buncha soon
ta be homelss mutterin' about theys one big chance to win half
a mil by charmin' a dozen people while dissing those same peeps
behind theys back.
Real TV my dark
alley. If these shows were real, they'd be 'like peeps' congregatin'
wit 'like peeps'. A big house fulla milk whitey corn breads all
tryin' be more intellectual than the next one. Or a whole buncha
brothas pissin' off a whole buncha sistahs as they down they
forties and try to get laid. Or a buncha homos in a cable only
one hour a week sex act. Ya, I's be stereotypin'. But ya know
it's true.
Okay, I do 'preciate
them Real TV shows what show home videos of stupid folks gettin'
their asses wasted. Notice how ya never see no brothas gettin'
washed away by fitty foot waves?
Peace yo!
--
That Cavortin' Bastard
