As we were watching this joker go through the horrible test of having to choose the twelve prettiest girls out of a lot of 25, a thought came across my mind: all these shows have a hoard of good looking women and only one man - they're going to run out of women at least twenty times faster than they do men. My mind wandered still, as I weighed both my hatred for shows of this nature and my newfound mathematical discovery, where do they turn when they do run out of the world's shallowest yet good-looking women? The answer is simple. I can see it now. Imagine, if you will, some good looking young man is flown out to some exotic island that everyone in the world would like to visit but never will, and he's told that he's going to be given the opportunity to meet, date, and eventually marry one of a group of single women. He'll giggle and smile and rub his hands in a greedy anticipation while all the women at home watch with their hearts having jumped into their throats from seeing how attractive the fella' really is. Then, on some gorgeous, clear, windless, panoramic, sunny morning, with birds flying through the background and palm trees bronzed in the morning light, a boat approaches the beach. The bachelor is standing stoic with a conqueror's confidence and a boy's excitement while wearing the finest beach-wear that Banana-Republic has to offer, and beside him stands Jeff Probst (the one man who gladly sacrificed all significant recognition just so he could host shows like these) with a smile that reveals deep in his mind he's in on a little secret. When the yacht is as close to the beach as it can be, people in bright and colorful garb board a smaller landing boat to make it to the beach and then, finally, the man of their dreams. I can see it now, the rising, yet corny music, the smooth yet odd zooms into the faces of the bachelor and that annoying Jeff Probst fella' (damn that guy's everywhere), and the far away shot from the beach of the fast approaching landing craft. Break for commercial. You're on the edge of your seat now, aren't you my little reader? Well, read on. All crappy shows like these have some kind of wacky twist thrown into the first episode just to keep you hooked for the initial two hour pilot episode. Just enough to get the ratings through the roof to prove to higher up network executives that this show does indeed bring in the viewers in droves. The rest of the season? Who cares... It's the first episode that hooks. The first episode of American Idol full of Simon's quick wit and off the hip insults that make us smile when others are made to cry. The first episode of Joe Millionaire when we see if a man would actually lie to the faces of twenty (something like that) girls about having inherited fifty million dollars. Who cares about, or really minds, missing an episode or two after that? Back from commercial. The ship's landing, the bachelor on the beach is losing his mind, Jeff Probst, well, he's pretty much just standing there in pseudo-adventurer gear being Jeff Probst, and then the girls on the boat become clear and visible. They're all genuinely happy to meet the bachelor - the gorgeous man who is the potential life-long mate for one of them. The bachelor, upon seeing clearly his now beach landing fate(s), looks horrified in his eyes yet managing to maintain a quivering smile. The women getting off the boat are ugly and hideous beyond all reason. All the networks, after having shoved these G-d awful shows down our throats for so long, with so many sequels, on so many channels (both network and cable television), they literally ran out of gullible gorgeous women, and had to finally scrape the bottom of the barrel. Oh, don't give that whole 'inner beauty' bullshit. How many fat chicks, chicks with one leg, or chicks with horrible acne have you seen on any of these shows? That's right, NONE. And as far as the networks are concerned, those are the ugly beasts at the bottom of the barrel. I'm sure they're all capable of writing world-peace inspiring novels or generating some medicine that can cure everything (except for the acne of course), but apparently there's no IQ test in he screening process for the next show's, or season's, suckers. I could imagine each and every episode of this show - the first, and probably the last, of these mate-for-life reality shows. Oh yes, it'll be the last. How do I know? The ugly chicks would only fall for a scam (show) like this once (if at all), and that's it. The 'bachelor' would look like and ass (more so than he does now) regardless if he backs away from the final girl or gives up and takes her out of what we'll all believe to be pity, Jeff Probst will finally be out of work and therefore out of our faces, and I, Bensmash, would be hailed as televisions newest hero - the man who, comically, put an end to reality programming. Hot damn. I tell ya', I should sell tickets to my brain. You'd be amazed at how much fun goes on in there. |
