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Real TV Shows
I Wanna See:



Real World: Mental Hospital

That Bastard Sez:
"Yo! Dude! Chill!"










Survivor Special Olympics
"Where's my Yoguht? YO-GUT!"

That Bastard Sez:
"In the land of the tards, Corky is king."









Real World: Ghetto
"Dude! Who let the crackhead in?"

That Bastard Sez:
"I hate when that happens."










Death Row Survivor
"I's gettin' da pardon!"

That Bastard Sez:
"For winnin' the first challenge, yo, you gets the soap on a rope!"






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

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