On my lunch break this morning, I came home, sat in front of my television for an hour of brain cell genocide when I had to make an important decision. Do I watch Bring It On: All or Nothing or Who Wants to be a Millionaire? It’s a common complaint, but out of 300+ channels, these are the only things that even remotely piqued my interest. Lucky for you all, I went for Bring It On, and while it’s nowhere near as good as the original, it is one amazingly bad flick. Lucky for me I tuned in just in time to watch Hayden Planetarium krumping:
And then I had a revelation. Everything bad is secretly good. This explains an infinite number of things: why Meg and I routinely quote lines from Center Stage (Meg is far better at this game than I am), why the Snuggie has its own Wikipedia entry, and why Kristinia DeBarge was able to release that trash heap of a song.
So this makes for quite a conundrum. Meg and I have been brainstorming about a good product to invent to fiscally supplement our current meager incomes. And while we routinely scoff at the likes of the Go Girl and the Kush and the Comfort Wipe, we may need to divert our attentions from the cure for cancer to an Automatic Ass-Hair Braider. I was going to characterize the biochemical processes of motivation, to make a wonder pill of will power, but I should probably look into making something that’ll make your farts smell like fresh linen instead.
When did this happen? When did we stop inventing televisions and clock radios and focus instead on vibrator/razor combinations? Is everything that is worthwhile already invented? Last time I checked my compendium of science fiction movies, we still are in need of flying cars, teleportation, and time travel. So if we can get on that instead, I’d really appreciate it. But I have a theory as to the cause of all this obsession with making the trivial aspects of our everyday lives easier.
Hear me out. Survivor was one of the first reality TV game shows, which was the first time your average Joe Schmoe got their first taste of fame and maybe a little bit of fortune. Once Survivor got big, a new batch of TV shows came out for other types of people. You have your Bachelor/Bachelorette/Who Wants To Get Syphillis types of shows, for the lonely people out there who are moderately attractive. American Idol/So You Think You Can Dance/Whore Out Your Talent for Fame shows for people with an actual talent who are moderately attractive. Deal or No Deal/Wipeout/Shows Where Moderately Attractive or At Least Generally Likeable Who Have No Discernible Talent Compete for Money and Fame. Notice anything similar between all these shows? There’s no room for ugly people on reality TV shows (unless that show is The Swan and you are receiving plastic surgery to be not so ugly anymore).
So now everyone who is moderately attractive (or wants to be more moderately attractive via The Biggest Loser or Dance Your Ass Off) is getting famous and making a little money. What about everyone else; those with, shall we say, a face made for radio? How can they get a piece of the pie?
Well, the majority of them are watching their more attractive neighbors and friends eat bugs with Joe Rogan for money, or race around the globe for money, or remember the lyrics to songs with Wayne Brady for money. But a minority of the rest of them can somehow get financial backing to produce the first genius idea they have while on the can. They aren’t going to get famous (Does anyone know who invented the Snuggie? Didn’t think so.) but they can make a few bucks.
And the cultural landscape is primed for a few moronic ideas. Of course people are going to need something to help them wipe their fat asses, because they are too busy watching other fat asses lose weight on television. And while they’re watching TV, they get cold, but don’t want to take their arms out from their blanket to change the channel because Hole in the Wall just doesn’t translate from Japanese television, so naturally they need a Snuggie.
In conclusion, if Mark Burnett had never produced Survivor, then Germany would never have produced the ShamWow and that guy would never have punched that hooker, and Billy Mays might still be alive (R.I.P.).
So I’m not sure what this post says about me, since I was able to reference all of these trashy reality TV shows. Either I’m slovenly and physically repulsive, or I’m slated to invent the next Peekaru. Probably a little of both? In the meantime, I’ll be working on that motivation pill. Once I work up to it.