Respect Authority

Remember how in Batman Forever Jim Carrey’s Riddler steals people’s intelligence while simultaneously beaming television directly into their brains?

Well, Jim Carrey failed — ostensibly because Batman is the shit — but I’m 98% sure he wouldn’t have if Bret Michaels had signed on to beam Rock of Love Bus directly into the collective psyche of the masses.

It’s not that I expected ROLB to be bad, nor did I approach it with the same trepidation as Rock of Love Charm School, or the first few episodes of I Love Money. Bret Michaels, trashy girls, alcohol: these are the makings of great television, and VH1 would have been hard-pressed to fuck this one up. What I didn’t quite expect, however, was that the network, with its ever-lowering standards of both dignity and decency, still had the power to shock me.

I think I’ve mentioned this in the past, but the overall strength of ROLB is the fact that it’s predicated on the idea of Bret Michaels being an active rock star. In fairness, the first episode does include an actual Bret Michaels concert, and it does seem to be rather crowded – but being able to sell out a show in middle America does not, for me at least, equate to being the object of desire for 20+ women who would give up a few months of their lives to compete on national television for your affection. I mean, I’m pretty sure even Hootie still sells out a few shows.

Nonetheless, outside of the fact that every goal-oriented statement made by one of the girls is centered around how sexy, famous or impressive Bret Michaels is, it is as usual the ladies themselves that make the show a real treat. The show’s first casualties pay tribute to the caliber of its contestants: three exceedingly normal girls were booted for not “talking to Bret enough,” which in the VH1 world means they kept their clothes on. Bret also dropped Nikki, also known as “DJ Lady Tribe,” who during her photo shoot delivered a love rap to him she had jotted down on the back of an STD fact sheet. Gia, a blonde that more or less dry-humped (another contestant) on stage during Bret’s concert, was kicked off for being too “fun.” Basically, producers dropped the girls too boring for television, or too likely to cause a lawsuit down the line. I’m not even confident Nikki, who drunkenly stumbled her way through the elimination ceremony, was conscious she had been kicked off until production assistants helped her off the set.

Among the dozen or so girls remaining, there are a few characters I’m more than looking forward to seeing in action: Brazilian Marcia, who gave Bret a kiss on the lips only minutes after upchucking 10+ shots of Tequila; Ashley, who Bret correctly pegs as a Juliette Lewis lookalike, except if Juliette Lewis had birthed a mentally-challenged transvestite with Paris Hilton; and Brittaney, a 40-year-old former porn star whose huge saggy boobs actually play second fiddle to her stalker-like attachment to Bret.

Even Beverly, a down-to-earth (if you didn’t get this about her personality on your own, she reminds you about 70 times) and sincere Bret Michaels fan, is a force to be reckoned with. Her presence on the show is painfully awkward because we’ve all known enough of these girls in our own lives to comprehend her imminent destruction at the hands of a dozen former strippers. Beverly may know every word to every song, but she really doesn’t belong there.

(Fun Fact: Just to emphasize the importance of these particular VIPs, Tranny Paris already has beef with both the Brazilian Regurgitator and Bashful Beverly).

In short, though this post is anything but, Rock of Love Bus is everything I expected — and then some. In the first 90 minutes of the series (probably 70 with commercials), there was stripping, simulated public sex, alcohol-induced vomiting, drink-throwing and, most importantly, a tequila shot taken from a part of the body so inappropriate even VH1 couldn’t air the clip. Hats off to you, Bret Michaels — I am totally along for the ride.