Posted on 09/09/2003 1:43:15 PM PDT by PJ-Comix
Matt was trying to explain how it felt to put his left hand on the naked right breast of a high-priced hooker.
"Instantly, I felt life come into me," he told the television camera, and when he said "me" he clearly meant "a very specific part of me." Matt recalled deploying the counter-measures: He thought of Rosie O'Donnell and of baseball, which is no longer the American pastime but still stands unchallenged as a gender's pre-eminent distracting mental image. He envisioned hitting a home run but, dang it all, when he rounded third he pictured that naked, high-priced hooker waiting for him at home plate. Summing up his attempt to remain at ease, Matt adopted a forlorn visage and remarked: "It didn't work too well."
At this point, you probably have questions. Who is Matt? Why did he have his left hand on the naked right breast of a high-priced hooker? And, more to the point, Rosie O'Donnell? A crisis of that magnitude -- hand, naked breast, high-priced hooker -- demanded the mental imagery of at least Bea Arthur, and quite possibly all three Golden Girls.
The meeting of Matt's left hand and the high-priced hooker's naked right breast occurred during the premiere episode of The Joe Schmo Show, a new series that airs Tuesdays on the U.S. cable channel Spike TV, which brands itself as the First Network for Men. And may I just say: It's about bloody time. For too long now all those other several hundred channels have catered exclusively to women, denying the unfairer sex the opportunity to regard chesty ingenues and live sporting events and chesty ingenues competing in live sporting events. Now, mercifully, there is at last a manly oasis where manly men can watch manly programs that are about, I can only assume, manliness. (Note to editor: Please place preceding three sentences in a special font -- sarcastics.)
Joe Schmo is a parody of reality shows. This sounds simple, but it's made more complex by the fact that during the past couple of years, reality shows have themselves become parodies of reality shows, which means that Joe Schmo is in fact parodying parodies. Spike TV also airs a lot of Star Trek: The Next Generation and I'd imagine that, were he called on to speculate, the android Data might warn that the parodying of parodies could prompt the television universe to collapse upon itself and cause a rupture in the space-time continuum, or at least the brain of a defenceless television critic. And then he'd probably go on about how he's fascinated by humanity and wishes to be more human and golly wouldn't it be interesting to have emotions and you'd have to kind of back slowly into the turbo lift, all the time thinking to yourself: "I should have just asked the freaking Klingon."
So here's the gimmick: The cast of The Joe Schmo Show is, with one exception, made up exclusively of actors. The exception is Matt Kennedy Gould, an amiable, twentywhatever law-school dropout from Pittsburgh who delivers pizza for a living and lives with his parents. Matt thinks he's on a show called Lap of Luxury, on which nine strangers must live together in an opulent mansion, with the victorious contestant winning US$100,000. But everyone else is actually playing a reality show stereotype: Among others, there's the gay guy, the conniving bitch, the virgin, the war veteran and the asshole, who is actually referred to on the show as The Asshole, a brash flaunting of profanity in prime time apparently being a hallmark of the First Network for Men.
The show is both repellent and fascinating, and there's every chance it's fascinating because it's so repellent. Matt is quite possibly the least annoying person ever to be cast on a reality series. He's a nice guy, principled, mannerly, a bit doughier than your typical reality-show mandroid. He's genuinely blown away by the presence of smoked salmon in the lunch buffet. When a fellow "contestant" brings up the topic of the show's jackpot, Matt immediately says he's not in it for the money. He then clarifies: "Getting that money will change my place in life. I've slacked off a lot and a lot of people my age are ahead of me, but ..."
Someone interjects: "So why ARE you here?"
Matt: "Because I have nothing else to do."
From that point on, anyone with even a reasonable facsimile of a heart is going to cringe as a massive, multi-million-dollar infrastructure is deployed for the sole purpose of exposing Matt to ridicule.
So on one hand, you feel just awful for the guy. The other hand, alas, is more likely than not to be wiping away tears of laughter. This is a very funny show. To their credit, the producers have not made it easy on themselves, nor their cast. The conventions of the reality genre are mocked so lustily that there are moments you simply cannot believe that Matt doesn't catch on.
There's the whole Hands on a High-Priced Hooker game, for one. That might have got some folks to suspecting -- although, as we learned, Matt's mind was otherwise occupied at the time. There's the Lord of the Manor Immunity Showdown, on which contestants compete for the right to wear the Pimped Out Immunity Robe. And let's not forget the Riches to Rags Eviction Ceremony, during which the show's host solemnly remarks of the evening's ousted contestant: "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, (contestant's name), you're dead to us." At which point he hurls a commemorative plate bearing the contestant's image into a fireplace. Yes, these are what folks in the detective business like to call "clues."
I can't say with any certainty how it will get there, but I think I have a good sense where this program will end up. Given the premise of the series, it seems implausible that the producers would decide on a cash prize of only US$100,000, which is a pittance compared to the Survivor windfall. It's fake money, so why not say the winner gets a million bucks, or two million, or five? I'd wager the reason is that at the end, after the secret is revealed and the abject humiliation captured, they're going to give Matt the money.
And should Matt ever again find his left hand on the naked right breast of a high-priced hooker, and suddenly feel life come into him, he can simply think back on how he felt the minute he found out he was Joe Schmo. A naked Bea Arthur would be positively arousing by comparison
I haven't watched it yet, but have the Spike Lee station on now and I think it comes on here at the west coast at 9 PM.
Do I have the time right?
I hope I didn't miss it...
Hey are you still doing those book threads, I been away for a while and haven't caught up if you are.
Then they'll reveal the scam somehow. I have no idea how. Then the next 45 minutes will be Schmo's reaction and the aftermath.
I could watch an hour just on his reaction to the fact that Kip is neither gay nor Cuban.
Plus, Schmo obviously gets the $100,000 (at least) so that will also be fun to watch. I'm betting he gets the $100,000, plus the Utah trip, plus that other trip, and probably a car or something.
He was a priceless patsy, and they need to REALLY reward him so the producers and actors don't end up looking like schmoes.
Plus, he should get to marry Ashleigh, who really digs his sweet nature. Sure they'll get divorced in a year, but that's one less year spent living in his parent's basement.
Schmo's a very nice guy. I can easily see why law school didn't work out.
Season finale in two weeks.
You have the time right but not the station. It's SPIKE TV, not Spike Lee TV.
Hey are you still doing those book threads...
Yes, we're doing a dicussion right now of The Choirboys.
Throw your TV out of the house and use your time for more worthwhile activities.
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.