Friday, November 14, 2014

I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For



Raise your hand if you enjoy television reality programs. Don’t be embarrassed. What’s not to love? Where else can you find such a corn-ball-ucopia of butter-eatin’, toothless, moonshine swillin’, tantrum-throwing misfits that look and act more like sideshow carnies than TV stars? Well, besides the bus station or nearest freeway off-ramp.

I’ll admit that this particular reality genre is not my cup of tea. No offense, but since when did we need closed captioning to understand simple English? Okay, SofĂ­a Vergara is a bit challenging at times, but she’s so darn cute. If I offended anyone I apologize.  I’m not here to spit on your gator wrestlin’ parade.

I confessed a few posts ago that I actually watch a few reality programs myself. Most are of the “I’m going to make you waste an hour of your time while I search for something I’ll never find because it doesn’t exist” variety. It’s a genre bandwagon that P.T Barnum would have jumped on without hesitation and beat within an inch of its life. I’m sure the producers are snickering all the way to the bank.

But is this type of program really that popular? Does Bigfoot poop in the woods?


The answer to the first question is youbetcha. As for the second question, I am of the opinion that he does not. Surely someone would have stepped in it by now or at least noticed their shovel missing.

I’ve once again been wood-shedding some new reality concepts of my own, because I’m pretty sure I can search for nothing just as well as the next guy. After all, I am 100% convinced that my car keys exist but I can rarely find them, so looking for imaginary beings, ghosts, lost treasure, aliens and giants shouldn't be a stretch.

The first is “Finding Elvis” where I would follow clues like cities where the most peanut butter, bacon and black hair dye is purchased, and allow the viewing audience to text in sightings a la “America’s Most Wanted.” Every week I would question 7-11 employees and jumpsuit manufacturers far and wide (no fat Elvis pun intended) until I found the King of Rock-n-Roll, no matter how many seasons it took.

Or perhaps “SNIPE: An American Legend.” Armed with infrared, heat sensitive cameras and a truck full of Nacho Cheese Doritos for bait, you could watch spellbound as I spend weeks searching the darkness for the elusive Snipe, who we all know is stealthier than Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster combined; a larger-than-life creature that has been hunted by thousands of Boy Scouts but has yet to be seen by anyone. This would be reality TV at its finest.

I was at first torn between the Snipe and the infamous Jack-a-lope, but the former is a true legend while it was brought to my attention the latter can be found (why am I always the last to know) in every tourist gift shop east of the Rockies.Author’s Note:

The last is “Switched at Birth: Search for the Lost Kardashian.” It’s pretty obvious to just about anyone who watches television that something went horribly wrong at the hospital 27 years ago. Rob K. (hereto referred to as the “Shemp” of reality TV) cannot possibly be a Kardashian. Number one, he’s not photogenic. Two, he has no business sense (Socks? Really? Someone should fill one with nickels and whack him a few times), and number three, he’s male and not even cool. If Kardashian girls were spiders, they would have eaten him a long time ago.

So, with a camera crew in tow, we (I’m thinking Bruce Jenner in drag as my female sidekick) would interview nurses, search hospital records and doggedly track down every lead until we got to the bottom (no Kim jokes, please) of this mystery. My money is on Zac Efron. Same age, born in the same area, good looking, talented. What??? I guess you’ll have to watch the program to see if I’m right.

K.G.