Respect Authority

I realized with minimal dismay on the train this morning that, with half the week gone, and despite having finished Real Chance of Love (which, by the by, I’m pretty sure I’ve been calling Real Chance AT Love the entire time - thanks a lot RA fact checkers), Nip/Tuck and Top Chef, I appear to have completely lost track of Fringe, Fox’s quirky and mildly successful attempt at replicating ABC cash cow Lost.

See, Fringe made the mistake that so many episodic dramas are making these days - these exorbitant and self-serving breaks, that come out of nowhere and go on for weeks, or sometimes months. I realize I’ve long since stopped understanding many shows’ actual seasons since television producers apparently took the writers’ strike as carte blanche to stop and start the release of new episodes whenever they fucking feel like it. Read More ›

Managing to make even your clip show/pre-season-finale episode hilarious is no small feat in reality television, but Real Chance at Love did not disappoint. They never do. The whole thing’s worth my time, but around 3:28 there’s some stellar personal hygiene clips for people who, you know, would rather do something more productive with their 12 minutes.

P.S. Sans Aaron, I’m 93% hopeless so if the above doesn’t work, use this old-fashioned link.

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.
Read More ›

A few weeks ago I unabashedly condemned Sharon Osbourne for her inability to instill fear in the two dozen sluts featured on Rock of Love Charm School. Echoing those sentiments last week, I had legitimately started to worry that VH1 had lost its touch. This week I was proven wrong. 

Anyone who’s seen even a smidgen of Rock of Love knows the two bitchiest bitches in all the land are Megan and Lacey. The former uses tig bitties and an abnormally long torso to distract fellow contestants from her evil machinations, and the latter might seriously be a demon come to Earth in human form. Both have weasled their way through various seasons of various VH1 shows, and both have convinced me that given the opportunity and appropriate weaponry, I would be completely capable of murder.

Well, although she didn’t boot either girl this week (even Sharon Osbourne answers to producers), Sharon cursed both girls out during elimination, to the extent that cursing out can be done on cable television. Needless to say, I feel vindicated in a way that makes no sense considering I don’t actually know any of these people.

I realize the fact that Gary Busey is batshit insane may not be news to most people, and it’s definitely not news to anyone who’s ever seen him act, or speak, or try to assimilate with normal human beings. But rarely has Busey’s complete and utter craziness been put on display so compellingly as on the second season of VH1’s Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew.

Although during the days of so-called “radio stations,” I was actually an avid Loveline listener, and have always respected Dr. Drew’s ability to spot a victim of sexual abuse faster than you can say “little girl voice,” for some reason Celebrity Rehab has never appealed to me. All the more surprising considering it combines all of my favorite things: reality television, celebrities, drama and dangerous addiction. While VH1 has long been my entertainment source for the first three, I typically turn to more serious programming when it comes to substance abuse — shows like Intervention, for example, which I can’t watch without devolving into a quivering mess of emotion.

Perhaps this explains my aversion to Celebrity Rehab — VH1 is free to stomp on the sanctity of love, marriage, teamwork, pride, etc., but they would do well to leave addiction to the professionals. In a sign that my soul is not yet entirely black, I just can’t find it in my heart to chuckle as someone struggles through heroin withdrawal. I’m human yet.
Read More ›

I was pleasantly surprised to stumble across the premier of VH1’s A Real Chance at Love last night, as my affinity for reality television competes with my affinity for substances that affect short-term memory and I had completely forgotten it was on. Indeed, what a lucky coincidence, as within only ten minutes of the show’s debut episode, my faith in VH1 — slightly lacking after two subpar episodes of Rock of Love Charm School – had been completely and utterly restored.

For those who don’t know (although if you don’t know what I’m talking about, you likely haven’t read this far), A Real Chance at Love is of the fifth generation of VH1 reality television spawned from The Surreal Life, whose first season debuted in 2003. I know this because I have map of said generations on my wall at home. Seriously. Read More ›

It seems things like the stock market and imminent election have so commanded my intellectual attention that I can no longer focus on what really matters: reality television. 

Rock of Love Charm School with Sharon Osbourne premiered Sunday night, sucking in VH1’s immediate reality audience with promises of scantily-clad and likely drunk females fighting over everything and nothing. By debuting the show just after VH1 success story I Love Money’s reunion special, the network all but guaranteed a stalwart audience would watch the new program, which takes up the same time slot and happens to feature half the same characters. 

But after being thoroughly disappointed with the IL$ reunion (no physical contact, no unseen clips and host Craig Jackson should hang himself), I was even more disheartened to watch Charm School get off to an underwhelming start. These are women that love many things: tattoos, alcohol, Bret Michaels and money, but one thing none of them love is good manners. Read More ›

It takes a confident man to lose to a girl. Or at least one so poorly versed in the English language that it’s impossible to interpret whether he’s embarrassed or not. So went Whiteboy’s tragic defeat during Sunday’s season finale of I Love Money, otherwise known as the apex of VH1 reality programming.

For those poor unfortunate souls who didn’t watch every amazing moment leading up to the finale, I’ll sum up: the show starts with more than a dozen contestants, and they love money. Throughout the course of the season it became apparent they love other things too: bikinis, alcohol, and wearing bikinis while drinking alcohol. But mostly, they love money, and through a series of completely ludicrous “physical” challenges, each attempted to win some ($250,000 to be exact). Read More ›